I walked inside the cold, moldy smelling room, and came face to face with a beaten face.
He was older, withered, with gray, peppery hair. His face was a disformed mess of blood and bruises. His left arm hung loosely in his restraints, it was clearly broken. Blood caked his tattered clothes, his gray hair had brownish-red splatters of blood speckled throughout.
His right eye was bruised shut, blackened bruising covered the entire right side of his face, his lips were cut open, trickles of blood falling from his mouth.
He was more dead than alive.
His one, non-bruised, eye flickered up to me. It was bloodshot, and dark as he took in my presence.
"If they're trying to use another intimidation tactic, this one is definitely not going to work." His voice was raspy and try as he motioned to
