Page 270 of Broken Oath

The lights stayed on.

At first, Wade had thought it was meant to prevent him from sleeping.

Later, he realized it was meant to erase time.

A man who didn’t know whether it was day or night began to lose pieces of himself. He forgot the sound of rain. The shape of clouds. The warmth of sunlight against his face.

Eventually, he forgot what freedom felt like.

Wade sat on the edge of the narrow bunk with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped between them.

Listening.

Waiting.

The habit had become automatic years ago.

The facility had rhythms.

Patterns.

Changes.

You learned them if you wanted to survive.

Three guards passed his cell every hour.

Meals arrived twice a day.

Interrogations happened whenever someone above them grew impatient.

And every few weeks, someone disappeared.

Sometimes the missing prisoner returned.

Sometimes he didn’t.

The steel door rattled.

Wade didn’t move.

He didn’t lift his head.

He didn’t react.

The guards hated that.

Good.

The slot opened and a metal tray scraped across the floor.

Cold food.

The same gray mixture they had served hundreds of times before.

The slot slammed shut.

Silence returned.