Jack stood on a roof of an office building in Cardiff. He looked out towards the bay in the near distance, and the Bristol Channel out beyond that. The breeze was cool against his face and he could smell that smell, a scent that was distinctly Cardiff. His city. His home. But the calm was displaced by a cloud up ahead. A cloud that appeared from nowhere and darkened the sky. It rained down until around him it fell like streaks of black and he was locked in darkness.

And then he opened his eyes, and he was again in that cell, in that hole. Alone.

The nightmares came more often. Twisted dreams that confused his mind and made him forget where he was. They weren't always bad, sometimes they took him somewhere, a moment in a memory that faded as he recalled the truth of his location. It didn't seem to be always with sleep, but they were waking and lucid and he wondered what was real and what not.

It had been ten months.

Another month after that and someone finally came down. They held a candle and the light of it burned into his eyes. He shrunk back from it, balled and huddled into the corner in which he'd barely moved from, but for to struggle to get the food that would sometime be brought.

It had seemed to shock the captors to find he was still alive. He'd pleaded then, asked for answers or just to leave, but it had been met with laughs and taunts and it seemed to fuel their urge to take him for what he hadn't had since he'd arrived. He was flogged again then and the whole experience was blurred and marked only by the sting of pain.

They had placed him then, bleeding and sore, back in the hole. Again, he'd been left.