Inside of a worn down barn house, far past the few stables of animal enclosures, there was a boy no older than 19 years old. Blake twisted and turned on top of the bronze-colored hay. The prickly hay was obviously uncomfortable, it continuously poked at the boy, it's repetitive bristles made his back and sides itch achingly. Unable to endure for much longer, he sat up, scratching his body.
His long white — almost grey hair swayed and landed on his back, other parts covered his face. The boy himself was pale, it looked as if he had missed out on most meals, his skinny body was sore and red from sleeping on top of something so uncomfortable, still, this was better than sleeping on nothing at all.
The smell of horse and pig excrements immediately assaulted his nose, however, he continued to breathe like normal. He had grown to realize that no matter how much he covered his nose, the smell would still remain.
