Smooth, white tiled floors and walls. An uncomfortably cold room to keep him docile, with nothing but an uncomfortable bed as company. Not even the smallest amount of daylight to be seen.

It's been that way for nearly 3 years now.

Jiko sat with his back against the wall, legs crossed and arms locked tight into the box-like cuffs. They weren't the most comfortable, no, but he'd grown accustomed over time. His eyes only peaked open when footsteps passed by his cell door.

What is it now?