[Some Prison]
The gaze of the warder pierced Siegfried's spine like a sharp sword, causing a stinging pain in his back.
Siegfried lowered his eyes, using his body as a shield, and silently sliced his left arm with a dining knife.
Probably to prevent prisoners from committing suicide, the dining knife is made of wood and is very blunt.
But Siegfried applied enough force and managed to cut a scar on his arm, while ensuring it wasn't too deep to bleed and attract the warder's attention.
"Another day," he thought.
His arm already bore seven scars new and old, counting from the day he was captured, he had been in the hands of the rebels for eight days.
One table, one chair, one bed, one toilet, twelve warders in pairs taking turns to monitor, this was his cell.
Siegfried never understood why the rebels tortured him for only one day.
