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The scars themselves ranged from long incisions that stretched down his chest and right down his belly like the sharp slice of gutted livestock.
Robert had an ‘X’ crossed over his heart like someone had taken a knife to it and unfolded the skin out like the petals of a flower to drive their fingers in between the gaps of his ribcage.
He was thinner than Sonar had initially guessed from looking at the way his uniform hung from his body. Rail thin and gangly in all the wrong places. He had muscle, of course, more than Sonar had expected to find, but no part of him looked healthy.
…He looked young.
“This isn’t a show, by the way,” the dispatcher ground out as he finally turned his head back to where Sonar was slack-jawed staring. “Didn’t your mother teach you not to stare?”
. . .
Months pass, and Sonar learns to map out the soft parts of Robert...How long will he have, though, before the consequences of Robert’s secrecy catch up to him?
Exhausted and with nowhere else to turn, will his walls finally come crumbling down?
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