The light had gone out not five minutes after Andrei left. There was an eerie silence left in the room, just broken by the young man's sobs. He touched his fingers. The stumps left. A question flashed in the back of his mind. How many more? Then, sounds started joining his sobs. First some kind of machinery, a low, uninterrupted hum. He kept imagining it was a meat grinder. Then a dripping liquid. The young man soon fell silent, trying hard to make sure it wasn't his own blood. But the rag was still not fully soaked. Then started the screeches. As if someone was running their fingernails through a blackboard. Then muted screams, from too far to actually understand the words. The young man could only imagine what was happening. Someone else. The madman was doing the same to someone else.
But he couldn't bring himself to care. He was sure the door was locked, so there was nothing he could do about it, he told himself. Plus, even if it wasn't, trying to help would mean seeing him again. Fuck, no. He couldn't possibly do that. It would mean... How many more.
His arm ached, like a bad toothache, muted pain ever present in the back of his mind. Andrei had bent the elbow well past its normal range. But his mind was focused on his hand, all the time, ever since the question had appeared for the first time. How many more. He kept touching the stumps, fully realizing his fingertips were not there anymore. Two already. Fuck. How many more. He couldn't think of anything else. How many more. The burn from the first day kept stinging. Probably starting to get infected. And he could feel the blood from today's wound soaking through the dirty rag. Fuck. How many more. Would he get out of here? … He didn't care anymore. Better that than more of this. And once he ran out of fingers? Fuck. No. No, his father...
His father hadn't managed to locate him in time. His all-powerful father. Was he even trying? He used to tell him how he didn't deserve all he had. Of course, he had deserved that lecture. But maybe he actually meant it? Fuck. He was going to rot in here for who knows how long. … How many more. He soon started mumbling to himself, unaware of the hidden IR camera recording everything. “Fuck, no. Please. Please, end this. I'll do anything...”
