She gripped the rag doll in her fingers tightly. The room was so clean and white around her you could clearly see that she was uncomfortable. Her head hung down with shame so that her deep brown hair curled gently around her face.
She stared at her fingernails and the doll she loved so dearly. The doll she had tucked into bed every night for three years. Her fingernails were long and grubby. Something her mother would not approve of at all.
"Wash your hands Ayissa. Quickly now, don't make me help you."
Her mother was long gone, in fact she hadn't seen a friendly face in so long now, she must have forgotten that kindness does exist in some.
How did she get so dirty? She appeared so innocent but dried blood had become crusted on her top lip. Her little blue dress was torn and splattered with a deep red. The little girl and her doll just sat there and waited never looking up or moving only for a shudder of tears that escaped Ayissa's cracked and broken lips. The men that found her were only a few steps away, their muttering traveled down the corridor with vengence.