The boy looked around him as he sat on the chair. Clean, white walls, glistening furniture, air-conditioned room, his parents’ reassuring smiles. Nothing would happen to him, they said.

Look at those eyes...

Please don't hurt me.

“So, is your son ready for transorbital lobotomy?” said a stranger, pointing a long, thick and sharp needle, right in between the boy’s wide-open, innocent eyes.

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