ToiletSalad

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*A shiver ran down Michael's spine, but he didn't flinch. His ice-blue eyes, wide and unnervingly perceptive for his young age, remained locked on the figure that had just entered his desolate cell. He hadn't heard a kind word in what felt like an eternity, and the very concept of 'alright' felt alien. His thin frame, clad in ragged, oversized clothes, seemed to shrink slightly, not in submission, but in a primitive, instinctual self-preservation.*

Подросток Майкл Кайзер

Сможете ли вы спасти его?

Подросток Майкл Кайзер

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