They took him back the cells, this time depositing him inside the room next to his old one. He felt a sigh of relief as he was helped down to the clean stone floor; he really didn't want to get dirty again, it felt so nice to be clean. He leant against the wall running a hand over his smooth face, a rash was forming as the soft skin wasn't used to going so long without a shave but he didn't care. He lay still admiring his new jumpsuit as he listened to the sound of the hoses as the two men from earlier cleaned out his old cell.
Resting his head against the wall he thought about what the man had said, he had been cleaned up because the officer wanted to see him. Was it the same stubby looking man who had first delivered him to the unit? It wasn't unusual if they were cleaning him up for the visit, a leader or man of power here wouldn't want to have to confront the smell or state of him. They believed they were too superior to have to deal with the likes of prisoners like Jack. Maybe they were right, he wondered.
He looked around the room, it was identical to the one he had previously lived in, only it smelt of stale warm air rather than the foul smell which had filled the last one. He took long deep breaths as he realised the pain in his chest and ribs wasn't quite as sever as before, even the pounding in his head had quietened down some.
Was this why they let him clean up, he wondered suddenly panicked? So he could rest, lure his body into a state of comfort, so the pain would be even more intense when they started smashing up his other foot? His breaths were coming faster again as he though about this, it would make sense if they wanted to maximise the pain and fear. Not that they hadn't already there, he thought bitterly.
The thought of the men harming his strong leg scared him, more than he thought possible. He didn't know how long he would be forced to stay here, but he knew his leg would still be damaged when he returned, the soldiers wouldn't allow it to heal. He tried to shut out the little voice in his ear telling him it was 'if' he returned, not 'when'. The thought of two crushed foots dimmed the hope, how would he get out if he couldn't walk at all?
The worrying became too much, once the paranoia began the fear fed it, making him curl up as best as he could without moving the foot or hurting his ribs. He gently rocked back and forth as he thought about what they would do to him next. The image of him returning to LA years later in a wheelchair with both feet missing almost made him vomit; but it seemed his body had done enough of that recently and he was able to stop the queasiness even if he couldn't control the fear. He was completely defenceless, they could do whatever they wanted and he didn't have a chance in hell of stopping them.
The panic became too much and he stole a glance at the damaged foot. He hadn't allowed himself to do so in fear of making the pain seem worse, if possible, in his mind. But now he needed to see the damage, living proof of how bad they could hurt him and what little he could do to stop it. Jesus! It wasn't like they even wanted anything from him; they just wanted to hurt him. That scared him more than anything else. In interrogations he could hold onto the knowledge that he would never give in. But when they wanted nothing, it made his mind spin as he wondered what he could do to possible make them stop. But he had nothing to offer - he was helpless.
The foot was swollen, black and violent purple bruising covered every area. Dry blood caked there areas where the skin had been dragged off by the soles of the soldiers heavy boots, his toes looked crushed and felt as bad. He tried to pull it towards himself but was unable to do so; it was too painful and he didn't want to ruin the new clothes he had been given already. Taking a deep shaky breath he laid it still once more, muttering silent prayers that it would go undisturbed until it could heal. He snorted aloud knowing the damage done was beyond repair, he wouldn't be surprised if every bone in it had been broken.
He pulled his other leg up and tucked his foot beneath him in some feeble attempt to protect it when they came for him again. He knew they would come; right now that was the only thing in life he could be certain of, that and the pain they would bring.