A twisted, pale figure writhing in agony, chest bare and hideous. Tight, rigid cords of sickly green veins webbed across the boy’s body and limbs, like ropes under his skin. Purplish bruises covered the kid,...

Sometimes it is easier to feel the veins wilted and empty than to sense the coldness of blood in fear

I try to grasp the colour of my blood and all I feel is life slipping through the colourless veins.