34
Neil stared at the wall opposite him in his cell without seeing it. He had drunk the coffee brought him, and eaten the sandwiches and small packet of biscuits provided, but the nourishment had done little to make him feel better about his situation. If anything, it made him feel worse for it rid him of the last vestiges of the drug and alcohol induced separation from events he had been feeling.
He was more conscious of where he was, and what was going on, than when he arrived, with the result that panic gripped him and left him afraid of the moment when the door to the cell would open and announce the beginning of his interrogation.
He wished he hadn’t sobered up.
Just when he felt he couldn’t take it anymore he heard the rattle of keys. He looked to the door in time to see a face a
