(A/N)

He twirled in place, allowing you to get a nice, good look at his emaciated body. His spine juts out his back, the skin clinging to it desperately, joints dark and angry as if the bones had been trying to escape his own body. The aforementioned scars dig deep into his skin and shine under the cruel lighting of the room that you reside in. A shudder of revulsion washes through you as your lips turn up, a grimace crawling itself over your face.

...What happened to him?