He could no longer remember how long he had been down here. It could have been a day, a month a year…time and memory had devolved into fleeting, hazy things in the wake of all of the pain, the blood, and the screaming. At least, he knew there had been pain, because his entire body throbbed with raw, incessant agony, and every time it dulled, his captor found some way to make it return, hotter and sharper than before. He knew there had been blood because he smelled its familiar copper tang, and felt it awash across his naked form. And he knew there had been screaming, because his throat was hoarse and raw. Beyond that, the details of how, why, where, when and who escaped him.