This is Hell. I'm in Hell...
James Skinner looked around his tiny cell, trying to get his eyes to adapt to the darkness, trying to memorize where everything was. On the right side of the room was a pile of straw that served as his bed. In the far left corner, there was a hole in the floor that served as a toilet. The hole wasn't connected to any kind of plumbing system, so his waste merely dropped into the darkness below. He half-suspected that the hole actually opened up over a cell on one of the lower levels.
For three days, he had languished in this tiny unlit cell. They had taken his clothes when they locked him up. All he was wearing was a sort of apron that only came down to his knees. "It's only intended to keep you from pissing all over our floor when we torture you," the guard had explained.