It had been days since he had something to eat. He had lost feeling in his legs and could barely lift his head.

After his last punishment, he collapsed onto the cold hard floor.

He knew what he had done wrong. He knew why he was here, but for some reason he wanted to believe differently.

He wanted to believe this was all a big mistake. That he wasn’t the one who was supposed to be here. It was a case of mistaken identity.

Yet he knew that wasn’t true. He knew he was supposed to be there. He knew he deserved it.

He heard a creak in the floorboards. He hurriedly assumed the position.

His captor came down the stairs with a bottle in their hand. “Open up!”

He creaked open his mouth. His captor poured the contents of the bottle into his mouth. The liquid, which thankfully he realized was water, was lukewarm but it had been the only substance he had in days.

He tried to savor it. He tried to drink slowly, but his captor snatched the bottle away. “Get back in position!”

He returned to the position. His captor went back upstairs.

He began to weep. He knew he shouldn’t be crying because he deserved this. He deserved this abuse, this hell he was in was his own fault.