5 days In hell.

My hands were tied. My hairless chest swathed in blood. My captor fed me now and again, it wasn't much, but it was food. He allowed me a glass of water and led me to a bucket on the other side of the room so I could do my business.

He wore a blank, white mask; he rarely spoke. I was in fear for my life.
The cuts on my chest were caused by being whipped with a bike chain.
I didn't like being able to see what he did to me, why wasn't I blindfolded? He got pleasure from allowing me to witness his punishments.

There was a smell of rancid meat in the air, mixed with regurgitated puke. Rats scurried across the floor, carrying small pieces of raw meat, meat from what, I don't know. The only light was a low watt bulb hanging from a beam above my bucket. What I assumed was a generator, buzzed with menace from behind the metal door that was keeping me from escaping my nightmare.

My cold, dank surroundings revealing ghostly apparitions. Spectres and ethereal beings roaming in the shadows. Were they real? I don't know, they seemed real enough. What was real was the fear and trepidation I felt whenever the metal door opened. The light causing temporary blindness, the figure standing silhouetted in the doorway, was real for sure.

I lay on a mattress, my hands stretched and secured above my head with a rope, the rope was attached to an iron ring coming out of the ground. My eyes would adjust and I would be able to see a figure approach, his haunting white mask, showing no expression. He sat on my ankles that were bound together with duct tape, I would wriggle and try to throw him off, " get off me, who the fuck are you?"
nothing worked, he was robust. A glint of metal shone in my eyes, with an expert touch, he sliced off a nipple. I bit on my tongue and screamed through the pain. After a few seconds the pain increased, the expressionless masked man stared at me as he daubed alcohol on my torn skin. I drifted in and out of consciousness, often seeing that shiny metal approach my broken body.

I think it was the second day when I awoke from a painful and disturbed sleep. Time was irrelevant, I could only guess how long I had been there.
No matter how much I struggled, I could not free myself. There was very little strength in my body, I had to stay calm and preserve as much as I could. My Inflamed wrists were abraded from the hemp rope that cut deep into my flesh. Both nipples had been removed and sanitized with alcohol, I could see blood on my fingers, my nails had been skillfully removed from both hands. My throat was raw through incessant screaming.

I drifted in and out of reality, the idea of letting my body and mind shut down began to appeal. The silhouetted figure emerged out of the doorway, the light from the side of freedom, nearly burnt my retinas causing me to squint and scream at my captor. The door closed with a ghostly squeak and slammed shut. Through my half-closed eyes, I saw the silhouette approach. He stood at my left-hand side, tilted his head like a confused puppy, put his finger against the mask's lips. "shh!"
My screaming stopped, that was the first time I had heard him utter anything. It was a plain, nondescript shush, there was nothing extraordinary about the sound, but a kind of recognition came upon me. "who are you, why am I here? please let me go." It sounded a little toady but maybe he had a little empathy, maybe he would feel sorry for me. The masked man bent forward a little, raised his index finger and shook it from side to side, along with a slow negative shake of his head. I gathered as much spit as I could and launched it toward his bent frame.

He staggered back and yelled, "dirty fucker." I saw his foot coming at me with speed, it connected with my ribs, my kidneys screamed in pain. I stopped breathing for a few seconds, then, for the first time in over forty years, I cried. My eyes weren't the only wet things, my bladder emptied itself, my urethra screamed as razor-sharp urine soaked the mattress around me.
Once again, I slipped into unconsciousness and awoke with no idea how long I had been out. After a few minutes, I raised my neck to have a look around, at the bottom of the mattress, sat a man in a chair.
"I need to go to the hospital, I'm going to die otherwise, oh and you need to change me, I've shit myself." Again my words seemed to fall on deaf ears. He sat; staring, I thrashed my bound legs, up and down and screamed. "Well talk to me then you sick fuck! say something." With great speed, he arose from the chair, the chair tipped over and before I knew it, he was sitting on my chest, with his hands around my throat. The grip tightened just enough to cut off my air supply for a few seconds, he then released the grip. This was a rare opportunity to overpower him. My legs were bound with duct tape but they weren't strapped down like my hands were. He leaned forward, put one foot on the ground to ease himself up, that was the moment I struck. With as much force as I could manage, I raised my legs and struck him in the balls. There was a pained grunt as he toppled onto my left-hand side. The masked man whimpered and rolled away from me. I tried to lift my legs off the mattress and swivel around to continue my attack, the attempt was futile, as I had no leverage to reach him. He lay motionless for at least five minutes, then crawled toward the door and left.