I woke up here, head pounding, and my body shaking. Went to stand up, but found myself chained to the ground and wall. Shackles on each ankle, locked to a bracket on the floor about a metre from the wall, with chains about as long as my arm. My wrists have chains as long as my leg bolted to a bracket on the wall. I can only tell that it’s morning because I was blinded by the light when he opened the door sun rising from the east, I realise the door faces north. He came in, bringing us a bread roll and a cup of water. He closed the door, but wearing the gas mask. Seeing the mask I suddenly realise the stench filling the air around us. It’s unbelievable that I hadn’t realised before; I’d obviously been knocked out for a while to get used to it. It smells of rotting flesh, a public loo that hadn’t been cleaned for over a year, combined with the smell of stale, stagnant water. The man seems to be dragging a crate over to the south wall, I can’t see much but then I hear a scraping noise, hearing a splat, splat, splat as the scraping continues. The rotting flesh smell is worsening. I’m chained to the eastern side, so with the flickering light of the candle on this strange man’s back I can see that he’s bent over to the ground. Chains rattle; I hear more scraping, more splatting, and then strange moans of pleasure coming through the gas mask. This scares me a little.
