Breathing heavy. Slow movements. Where is the Murderer? Pain felt all over the body. Blood could be tasted. The test has not finished yet. Silence is only heard, but the adrenalin, still pumps through the veins. Hot but freezing cold. Laying here, on some sort off straw, in a damp cellar. Feel like screaming out with this agonising pain, but I better not. The silence will be broken, and the Torturer may return. I rather lay in pain, in silence.

Heart races, like it will push through the ribs, and escape the chest. The silence is not present any more. The heart beat disturbs it. Will the tormentor hear? Will the Punisher feel this fear? Will is what I no longer posses. Hope is the thing I lack. No more feelings, except fright. The air I breath out turns to poison that I inhale. I can see it. And I feel the bitter nip of the chill.
Cold sweat drips. Mixing with the boiling adrenalin.

Eyes close. And open once more. Close again never to return.