Day Two
Roberto cannot see. With perspiration irritating his eyes he has learned the futility of keeping them open. There is only darkness and the frustration of blinking away sweat. He has learned to keep them clenched closed.
He can hear, but there is no sound other than his voice... and the noise of his childlike whimpers... which serve to bring self disgust and disconsolation. Verbal pleas, uttered in exasperation between geysers of vomit, proved fruitless. He now stifles any intentional utterances, but for the initial hours of his confinement did find himself begging.
He tastes the bile of his stomach juices. But worst is the smell. As his tormentress so insouciantly suggested, the induction of the cloudy liquid brought forth a purge. The wrenching of his gut caused his bowels to o
