Matias De Rossi sat at the metal stool with his hands tied behind the chair and his feet tied together for what seemed like a year to him but it was only a few weeks. He had lost his count.
He couldn't even tell when the sun had risen or set, not even sure if it did. Who knows, the world has already ended during the time that he was in that cell and no one has ever remembered he was still there.
He hadn't slept though he had lost consciousness a couple of times due to tiredness from fighting to stay awake and struggling to get out of that place.
He had not seen or heard anyone since he got there and only the sound of the tray of food and water falling from the ceiling through a piece of rope and a pulley only to stop in front of him. That is how they feed him. No fork or spoon, and with his hands tied behind him, he has no choice but to eat like an animal.
