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She was a girl in her twenties. She was dressed in a light white dress, a little dirty, torn in some places. There were no shoes, so her ankles and feet were scratched and abraded. I carefully rolled her from her stomach to her back. There were remnants of cut rope around her wrists. Taking out a knife, I carefully cut them away, and underneath I could see red-purple stains. She had probably been held captive.

Skin as white as snow. Her lips alone stood out in a faint pink hue against her pale face. Her hair was shoulder-length. Wet, sticking to her cheeks ༻꧂