The lights were glaring on this side of the glass, turning its surface reflective once again and hiding the previously revealed figures behind like a poor magician’s trick. However the door separating rooms remained open, sounds streaming through and echoing off the rusted steel of my prison.

I decided that they believed this an efficient method of interrogation; with my imagination running rampant, conjuring abuses and scenarios of far worse magnitude than any feeling human being is actually capable.

The grunts, thuds, and screams faded. I was poked once more on the back of the neck, my head snapping forward. Still I remained silent. A shout from behind me was acknowledged from the adjacent room.

I heard the sound of a power tool activating – a circular saw perhaps. Then the screaming began. I cringed as much as my bonds would allow – my teeth clenched tight.

And then it was quiet, the whirrings of the tool only echoes punctuated by cries of pain.

Just tell us, they said, and we’ll let your wife go.