It was dark in there, always so damn dark. It didn't matter if he opened his eyes or not, it would not make the slightest difference. If he could open his eyes for that matter. Everything hurt so much that he stayed in that position they left him in from the last time.
That felt like such an eternity ago. The last time he felt light fall down on him, the warmth of it hit his worn corpse. His body was now as corpse-like as it could be, unmoving, barely a hiss of air passing weakly through his lungs, keeping his heart going slowly. The only thing the brain processed these days was his constant companion, the pain.
He hadn't heard that voice though in a long time. That was one good thing out of it. That taunting voice asking the same question over and over again. A question he did not have an answer too, and even if he did he wouldn't tell the voice. At the beginning he may have known, but now he could not even remember his own name. The agony took away everything from his old life, becoming his only mistress that would stay with him until his body finally gave up.
There was one name though that he still had, the name lost all its' meaning, but he still had it. Peter. The name had to have great importance to him, if it was the last thing he could remember.
Though his mistress was never quite happy when he thought of that name. It seemed that everytime he thought of Peter, he would get a second of warmth, followed by a dry heaving session. He didn't have the strength to move anymore, so it was more like gagging on his own insides. He could feel the coldness sink deep into his bones, and the blood freezing in his veins. The session ended with him falling into further darkness, the emptyness of his mind.
He wanted that now, it was the only way he could at least be numb to it all. He always knew he'd return to the dark hell of which his life was now. With the voice echoing in his head, the pain, the darkness, and that name that he could not even put a face to now. He knew it wouldn't be long before he forgot the name too, and everything from his former life would have finally slipped from his grasp.
He always knew when he was in just the normal darkness, not just because of the blinding pain, and coldness touching his back, but also because of the smell. It smelt like someone slowly rotting away, meaning him. Also the sound of water dripping from somewhere not so far off.
One day out of the blue he heard the door swing open. The blinding light filtered through the room and onto him, it burned him. He let out a silent whimper, unable to move and shield himself from the onslaught of light. He was waiting for the voice that never came. Instead was hurried steps, and a different voice. This one was far kinder, warmer, filled with the utmost concern and strain.
"What have they done to you, Nathan?"