Her brother ate ravenously, gulping the cold water as if the taps had run dry. He wasn’t the only one who seemed to have been starved and maltreated.
When she waved goodbye, she did not know that it would be the last time that she’d gaze into those vacant brown eyes. Human beings were dispatched like postage stamps, no reply to sender, leaving blood stained hands that no amount of water could cleanse.
Stunned by the news that an executive order had terminated those anonymous lives, Macbeth now pales in comparison.
Conscience was murdered that night.
Her corpse lies unidentified.