The torture continued without end.
Day after day, night after night.
Sunny screamed when he had the voice, and remained silent when he lost it. A long time ago… decades ago… he still had pride, and endured the torment without giving the torturer the satisfaction of hearing him howl, cry, and beg.
But there was no point. Pride had no place here… only pain.
Anyone should have died from the inhuman agony he was subjected to and the terrible wounds dealt to his body. But Sunny didn't die… was unable to die… and so, there was no end to his anguish.
Every morning, his wounds were gone, as if he was born anew. Every morning, the torturer returned, and the cycle continued.
The torturer, himself, never asked Sunny any questions. It was as though he was tormenting his prisoner just for the sake of torment. However… the master of the dungeon never seemed to enjoy his cruelty. He never reveled in the agony of his victim, and instead seemed almost sad while performing his duties.