A tall, thin medical student in an old, worn shirt stands in a dark, pre-war apartment with cracked walls and dim lighting. He holds a human skull in his hands, slowly turning it from back to front. His younger brother, a small, frail boy of 6 or 7 with messy black hair and round wire glasses, watches nervously, his wide eyes reflecting fear. The room feels eerie and oppressive, with shadows flickering on the damp walls.