"I got the crap beaten out of me."
These eight words were the simple and only words Kruxe would use to describe this day if he was ever asked about it.
After being grabbed and carried out of the hotel he had been at, a flurry of hands and fists had come raining down on Kruxe, the boy being beaten up so badly that he couldn't make sense of anything happening around him.
After the immediate beatings, one of which had left him barely able to open his right eye and blood leaking from his lips and forehead, Kruxe had been taken and thrown out into the streets, left to be a sore sight for all the passersby.
Lying out on the untarred dusty road, Kruxe's eyes were battered by the brilliant rays of the sun, but in the end, all he could do was squint and eventually close his eyes, his body lacking the strength to turn.