我还依稀记得爱德华的脸。那是一张何等支离破碎的脸。那些疤痕像雪地上雪橇划过的印记,触目惊心却又让人心疼。他的眼神恐慌忧郁,他的嘴唇苍白冰冷,他的发丝凌乱纷杂。第一次被发现的时候,他躲在古堡屋顶无比黑暗的角落里。旁边是许多各色的剪报,他把它们剪成好看的形状,贴满了那扇突兀的墙。他就这么一步一步的朝我们走来。他惶恐却又渴望,紧张地不停挥动着 I still vaguely remember Edward’s face. That is what a fragmented face. Those scars like snow sled across the snow mark, shocking but it makes people feel bad. His eyes panicked melancholy, his lips pale pale, his hair messy. The first time he was found, he hid in the dark corner of the castle’s roof. Next to many different colored newspaper clippings, he cut them into attractive shapes and plastered with the abrupt wall. He walked toward us step by step. He was anxious but desperate, waving nervously