Sam's eyes opened as he sat on the cot.  He felt good.  He was in pain instead of agony.  He opened his mouth, but no words came out.  He hadn't been fed, and felt a terrible thirst, casually looking around the dungeon and noticing the hose.  A few seconds later, he'd drunk his fill, feeling a bit strange that he'd simply passed out with all the lights on.  His fingers pressed against the cot as he lifted himself back onto it, scrabbling along the wall as he leaned over towards the light switch.  It was just slightly out of his reach, and the pain which was his constant companion welled up yet again as he finally grabbed the switch and plunged himself into darkness.<br/><br/>The room was not warm, and the clammy darkness was complemented by the smells of various bodily humours.  None of them were overpowering, yet it seemed that some kind of essence of misery and terror hung about the chamber.  Sam turned over, the chain digging into his skin as it wrapped around his body, and he idly wondered whether there was a massive pit lurking somewhere in the darkness, to complement the blade from above that was slowly and methodically disassembling him.  Every day, he lost more and more of himself, gradually being pulled towards oblivion.  Was there any point to this destruction?  He again turned over, trying to free himself from the chain wrapped around him.<br/><br/>He was here of his own free will, he knew that much.  He wasn't afraid to die anymore, and he wasn't afraid to kill.  He wanted, in a way he couldn't articulate, to take the world apart in the same way he'd been destroyed, to strip away that layer of fat which the ignorant call courage and ravage the muscles of the human soul.  The girls had said he was lucky, and he loved them, yet he wondered just what had happened to the others.  Who could be so weak that he could not accept the process of annihilation?  He wondered, though not in words anymore.  Whatever being bided its time in the dungeon, it had nothing in common with the boy named Sam who had entered the dungeon.  He felt the stumps of his legs, admiring the slowly blooming lattice of scar tissue creeping over the stumps.  In just a few short days, he'd be able to walk again, although not in the way a human being walked.  It would be a painful sort of canter, filled with agony at ever step, and yet, that would make whatever he was walking towards worthwhile.