Snippet #2803237

Emile Fourneaux felt like two full days had passed. Now he was once again alone in his cell studying the ceiling. The first day had been a complete nervous breakdown where he had once again been rushed into the infirmary. He could feel his body rebuilt with more injections and more drugs. His mind didn't feel dull, which he suspected was half the point. They wanted his senses and his mind lucid and sharp.

Escape. Escape began to consume his thoughts. His guards could come in and out but always a pair of eyes on him. The room once again designed so close to nothing could be hidden. The furnishes were solid pieces. Nothing to chip away or take apart to assemble tools to escape. The cell door proved to be impassible. Perhaps he could fake a nervous breakdown? That seemed to yield a trip to the infirmary though even that was under restrains and heavy guards.

The Count resolved that would have to be the first part of his plan, though in order to escape his restraints he would need to get his hands on a tool. Any tool. Something that could negate a magnetic lock. Rudimentary education spun in his head. Working over the designs of his restraints from what he had seen and what he could possibly use in the room or even...

He took another stirred breath. It was apparent another interrogation session was going to be soon. It was the only time when he was outside of his cell. The thought of revisiting those sensations. He actually ran to his own toilet. PUKING out the contents to the bowl. Fuck... This place was doing a number on him.