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>David awoke to the sound of metal sliding across stone. A food tray was >being pushed into the cell, then the door closed once more and he heard it >lock; a shadow passed by the small square opening at the top. David got to his feet and went to the tray, grunting with pain every few steps. >The food was hot, and though it didn't smell like anything special, it was >food and it had been almost three days since he'd eaten anything. There was >a meat stew over something that looked like mashed potatoes and a hunk of >crusty bread. A plastic spoon was on the side, the only utensil. He heard >other sounds of trays being pushed into cells as the food cart made its way >down the hallway. A plastic spoon....well not like you can do much self-harm with a metal spoon... He started to eat slowly but had to push down the feeling of wanting to vomit. The abuse he had taken had made his body slow to tolerating food...he managed to eat it and came to the point where he believed this would be his final meal. He would die here....he no longer cared...he didn't know where he was and doubted anyone would find him. It was over.
