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He barely resmbled the man I remembered. It was like a spit in the face to me, a complete mockery. The world took a man I loved and disfigured him into some poor mockery of himself, better off having no resemblance in the slightest.
There was really nothing left of his face. All that remained was a dark, empty void, with it's one singular eye staring back at me. It was sickening, like the void that seemed to consume me for many days and nights after the incident.
I wish not to remember those days.
He was wearing that same suit he was wearing when I met him. He used his finest care towards it, seemingly wearing it everywhere he went. I look at it again. It was fuzzed and ripped, from the many years worth of slight snagging and tears he went through in that dark hell.
It was all painful. I hate to see him this way. Maybe he would have been better off dead. Maybe.
However, that slight resemblance to the man I remembered, the love of my life, gave me hope. He wasn't gone yet.
There was one thing that stayed exactly the same. It was the shine, an ever so slight gleam, in his eyes. And that gave me hope.