Chapter 3: Loneliness, friend or foe?

The cell was so dark that sight was a useless sense, darkness dominated that cage; only when the moon was high William see the dark shapes of the bars projected on his worn face. The thick chain around his neck was hooked to a nail driven into the concrete, the boy had been tied up and caged like a ferocious animal. He had been hungry for too long, what he was served was nowhere near the food of humans. Two punches against the door then a dirty and rusty plate, filled with who knows what dish, was thrown under from under the entrance. Mostly they looked like leftovers from a finished meal, perhaps some human remains. No trace of the water and the fetid smell inside that prison was increasing day by day. The walls were marked with dried blood, scratches and lines marked with pebbles used as white chalk. In a secluded space of the dungeon, the muzzle of a mouse peeked out and squeaked every time that corner of the ceiling dripped. On the first day William let himself be led by the persistent dripping that thundered in the cell like a tap in the middle of the night. He crawled over to the tiny spring, opened his mouth wide and stuck out his white tongue in an attempt to hydrate. But it didn't take long to discover that they weren't drops of water, but tears of warm blood from upstairs. There were constant pleas, heartbreaking screams, suffering, full of despair. In that gloomy cage, in total solitude, the imagination was the only way to escape from terrible monsters like fear, madness and death. Fantasy was the only weapon to combat the agonizing loneliness that surrounded him. But his thoughts evaporated at the sound of a key inserted in the lock. The door swung open with a sharp creak and a black figure made its way in front of the red light coming from outside which caused serious annoyance to the boy's delicate blue eyes. The individual approached the skinny little body that remained crouched on the dirty ground.