Staring out at the man who was jeering at him with his piercing black eyes
Grasping the bars tightly, the thick rust cutting deep into his fingers
His lip had been cut in the scuffle for food last week
His hair shaved off, scarred from the strong hands pushing the razor through his hair, indifferent to his pain
Dirty with mud from the countless months he had been left to rot
Under his eyes were livid from the countless hours he had stayed awake, defending his clothes, his food, and his very life itself from the others
He stepped back into the darkness, waiting for his chance to strike
