Brink Of Insanity

The days seemed to roll into one for him and he could barely tell the difference between night and day. His eyes had gotten accustomed to the darkness of his holding cell and he could almost see the cracks on the wall, the peeling of the paint on it.

The coldness from the damp walls was his constant partner, it seeped into his skin clinging to him, boring into him - his fingernails, toenails, chewing every inch of his body but he couldn't complain not when he was left at its mercy.

He has been stripped off of almost all of his clothing, the only thing left on him was shorts that barely reached his knees. His both hands were chained to the wall and too many times to count, his knees had buckled but the chains locked onto his wrist held him up, digging into the skin.

Relieving himself was an embarrassing feat, a pail was brought to him and he did his business while standing, one of his hands unchained, and after he was done, the pail was taken away and his hand was chained back.

Damon w