GREG

I stared at Nikita from a distance; she looked like she had lost everything, including her purpose of living.

Her hair was dishevelled, her gown was stained and wrinkled, her eyes, once bright, were dim and lifeless, red-rimmed from crying, and her body was pale and white. Tears continued to stream down her face, mixing with droplets of sweat that clung to her skin. She looked utterly broken, as if the weight of her sorrow had consumed her entire being. Her wet and tangled hair framed ...