Frustrated, Elio struck the wall with his fist. The pain that shot through his hand only served to underscore the futility of his situation. The wall hadn't even been marked.
The constant light eliminated any sense of the passage of time, creating a feeling of eternity in that confined space. Elio found himself thinking about the city beyond his cell. About the streets full of people, the soldiers defending the walls, the life that continued without him. How long would it be before someone noticed his absence? Would it even matter?
He stood up and began to pace the cell, four steps from one side to the other. It was a habit he had developed during his watches on the wall, a way to stay alert and occupied. Here, in this confined space, it served to keep the growing sense of claustrophobia at bay.