Thirst, hunger.
This is the only feeling Jack Frost has left after seven months.
He couldn't remember how many times he had opened his sour eyes. Maybe it didn't mean anything - the world in front of him was still the same.
There is only darkness.
He groped for the ventilation pipe in the corner in the dark, raised his fingers with difficulty, and tapped lightly.
He hummed the song silently - even though his dry and hoarse voice could no longer make any sound.
His teacher once told him that music saves the soul. But music saved his soul, but it failed to save his life
Rotting in the pit.
Those were a pair of blue eyes, filled with fire and deathly silence that burned everything, and filled with the tide of thousands of mixed emotions. Top down
looking down into the dark cell.
——Deep in the blue sea.
Conception: