Jack shifted his weight heavily, trying his best not to move the swollen and mercifully painful foot as he did so. He wouldn't allow himself to look at it - he couldn't bear the pain and he knew the image of it would only make it seem worse. Besides, his imagination was drawing up a pretty good picture of how the damaged skin may look, it was good enough to make him gip until the image was pushed out of his mind.

Reaching up to the wall he scraped in another shaky line in the cement with his sore fingernail, 14 days had been spent in this cell. He made today's line longer as he had on other particularly rough days, planning on looking for some sort of pattern so he could try and prepare himself for when the worst of the soldiers would come. He smiled satisfied with himself as he shrunk back down to the floor tired, they could beat him physically but not mentally - they would never take his mind.

He felt his eyes drooping some as he slowly pulled the sleeve of his jumpsuit up, looking at his watch as his arm shook before him. He couldn't see the hands through the darkness so he slowly pulled the sleeve back down to conceal his watch before closing his eyes. He tried to shift slightly onto his side so he could sleep, but the sound of approaching footsteps alerted him of another possible visit.

Panicking he frantically shuffled to sit up against the wall; he would be a sorry sight to look at but he had to retaliate any way he could. He was panting from the effort of moving and his foot hurt more than any words could express, he wished he could numb it or fit somehow - but it wasn't possible.

He herd the sound of electronic beeps as the soldiers prepared too enter the cell and his breathing increased. He tried to stop himself from hyperventilating but couldn't, his hands shook as he wrapped his arms around his thinning frame. He pulled his good leg up towards his body as though to shield himself. His bad leg laid splayed out to the side, he felt vulnerable as it was open for more attacks, but there was nothing he could do to protect it if they decided to punish him again.

Two men entered and Jack looked up, slightly confused as he noted they were wearing a different uniform to the soldiers. They were also wearing rubber gloves, Jack felt his face burn red as one of them began to gag at the putrid smell of the cell; he'd become accustomed to it after being trapped with it for so long.

The elder of the two remained composed, as though he was used to dealing with the conditions.

"Up up!" He demanded.

Jack looked up at him wearily, there was no threat in the voice, it almost seemed compassionate.

"Up up!" He repeated, taking a step inside.

Jack looked down to his foot and then back at the man, who followed his look until he saw the mans leg. His mouth parted as a look of horror was quickly masked by unease. Jack placed one hand against the wall to support himself as he tried to lift himself up. No sooner as he began to try and move the man spoke again, gesturing with his hands to help the prisoner understand.

"Down…" he paused trying to find the right word in his vocabulary. "Stay, stay,"

Jack nodded and sunk back down to the floor in relief, he was sweating with fear at the thought of being moved anywhere, he didn't have the energy to stand, how could he possible walk anywhere?

The man turned and spoke rapidly to his partner who had stepped outside of the room to clear his airways. Jack saw the small figure move away before the man turned back to him and flashed him a reassuring smile before busying himself by looking at the ceiling - he didn't want to watch the man before him - the state of him made him feel ill.

Of course he dealt with this daily, it was his job; but he always tried to be kind to the prisoners as though he could offer them a small piece of hope. But it wasn't often they had Americans here, and the state of the man, he was clearly being given worse treatment than most newcomers; he didn't normally have to deal with them in this stage of their punishment. They had experts for that.

Minutes later the partner came back pushing a small, rocky metal table on wheels. The man looked at him as he wheeled it in, his expression telling him it was all they had. The elder man went over, put an arm around the trembling man as he tried to stand himself up. Jack couldn't help but flinch when the mans hand first touched his back as he tried to steady him.

He was leant over almost standing on one foot, his face squeezed shut as the pain invaded his body once more, all of his injuries adding to the discomfort and pain his foot caused him. He leant against the wall, thankful the bulky man was holding him up, sure he would collapse if it wasn't for the help. They manoeuvred him so he was sat sideways on the trolley like table, his legs dangling over the side as he sat with his head down and tears in his eyes as they wheeled him away.

Were they moving him on to the next stage, or were they going to finish the job? The trolley rocked but the trip was smooth, he was grateful for the caution the seemed to take as they moved him to a large room stationed at the other end of the prison unit. Once they were inside the room the man closed the door before looking him up and down with a frown on his face. The younger man spoke this time, his English slightly better than his friends.

"You see Officer Chow, you need clean."