His bloody mouth dripped onto your shirt, his nose buried in your shoulder. His eyes were shut tightly, tears mixing with the blood from where his mouth had been harshly wired shut by those who couldn't understand his soft-toned words.

You had barely known him for a week, but now you sat here, on the bathroom floor, after helping him get the wires out of his lips and cheeks, giving him the freedom to move and open his mouth. He had started crying and hugged you, which is how you'd lost your balance and ended up on your bathroom floor, Wireface, everyone had nicknamed him, in your arms.

Over the few days you had known Wireface, you had helped him write out sentences, helping him spell in regular English to communicate basic things. You also helped him draw small pictures to show emotions and tell stories. Thats how you found out that people had wired his mouth shut in the first place.

And now you sat here, Wireface crying silently into your shoulder. Whether from gratitude, relief, sadness, fear, or all of the previously mentioned, you weren't sure.