Christophe was cleaning off his shovel. He sighed. "Merde (shit)... I've should've been more careful..." Christophe mumbled to himself. He was smoking a cigarette, as he cough a bit.

He tied his brunette hair back, because it got in the way sometimes. He had cuts and bite marks all over his skin, as he clunched his fists, as a way to hold back tears.

"Nom de Dieu... (Goddammit)..." He had just been brutally attacked by guard dogs.