"How long had it been?" He looked above and, saw nothing but pitch-black from the darkness.
The door was not entirely devoid of light. Next to him, above the wall that he leaned on, burned a candle over a stand. Its cheap animal wax has turned to a stub and the flame was dying. It was the only light he had—no, it was the only light they all had.
Gaunt and sickly faces shone in black and brown. They were silent like the night and, without hope.
"Why did I go with that man?" he regretted.
He looked at the wooden bucket near him; his piss bucket. He wanted to clean himself, but such things were denied for the ones there; for they were slaves.
The pungent smell of urine made his bladder tighten. "I hate this," he felt himself disgusted. He stood up, went to the bucket and pulled out his cock. Yellow streams flowed in an arc and fell and his face reflected over the ripples.
