There was no telling how long I"d lain on the mattress, whether it was day or night, or how many hours had passed. Since Armstrong threw me back into the concrete room, I"d had nothing to eat or drink. My throat was parched and my stomach rumbled ominously, aching with hunger. The room was still freezing and I"d spent most of my time trying to retain what little body heat I could manage.
I"d dozed on and off and when I woke, a bucket, which hadn"t been there before, was sitting in the corner of the room. I investigated and discovered it was empty, and with a sinking heart, I realized this was my bathroom. This was where I was to apparently deal with physical necessities during my imprisonment.
Before falling into a troubled sleep, I"d spent a lot of time considering if what Armstrong had
