Sleep was difficult in his cell. He was shackled to the wall and there was no bed, only the cold hard floor on which he could lay down. The day passed slowly, or at least it seemed to, given the fact he was not being beaten to a pulp in an attempt to get information out of him. As much as he preferred not being repeatedly punched in various parts of his body he was having trouble keeping his mind occupied. The one distraction he had was when his thoughts dwelled on his caregiver.
She was attractive, even in her bedraggled state, and the more he thought about her the more his body reacted. Odd to think he would get aroused thinking about her given his captivity and his need to figure a way out this place, but there it was. He hoped she would be there soon to bring him his meal for the day and possibly more.
He was brought out of his musings as the door opened to admit Shelle into his cell. She carried his food and a pitcher today rather than the normal bucket. She showed a quick smile before lowering herself next to where he lay and placed the plate and pitcher down. He lifted himself up onto one arm to raise himself up to her eye level.
"Your food," her voice soft and sweet to his ears, "and some water." She shook her head as she spoke, "I finally convinced them the water would benefit their purposes more so than your need for it."
"Thank you," he said as he lifter the pitcher to his lips fighting the urge to gulp the entire thing down. He took controlled sips, not remembering when he had tasted anything so wonderful. He stopped briefly to eat the food she had brought him.
"You seem better today," she commented.
"Thanks to you," he replied as he licked the last of the substance from his plate. "I have been in isolation before," he said as he looked around the room, "but never without at least a place to sit."
"Their methods can be harsh," she said looking at him with what he felt looked like pity.