I looked up at the towering figure before me, well over six feet and his muscles tightly packed into his white T-shirt."You must be Liam, come in." Hi... large hand squeezed mine as he welcomed me in. His perfectly groomed beard complemented his slicked-back black hair and his smile showed his gleaming white teeth. Slapping me on the back, he explained my daily routines as we explored the shop. "I'm sure you'll get the hang of it soon, no worries. I like the hairstyle," he laughed as he ran his. The first week was filled with questions, attempts at bargaining. The second- nothing but insults, by the third he knew the game involved his mental anguish and though he cried for help at certain points, the inevitability of no answers seeped its way in. At week five, he knew by experience the voice would arrive soon, but he also knew none of his suffering would be relieved. Hunger took its toll. He’d started to become aware of the fact that he was to die in this place, not knowing how he got. More

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