Whadya think?...

~ Jared woke up in the pitch darkness, shaking uncontrollably and miserably cold. He clutched the thin, ragged piece of cloth that his captors so ironically called a "blanket" closer to himself. His feverish mind went to his survival training, "...if you're cold the best thing for you is activity. Do something aerobic...". It was almost funny. Yeah, he'd do something aerobic, if only he could stand up on his own. Everytime he'd tried to so much as sit up he'd either fainted or gotten so dizzy and nauseous that he'd wished he'd fainted.
He was confused momentarily by a strange sensation on his face, but then roused enough to realize that it was only one of the many beetles that came swarming out of the drains every night.
This didn't bother Jared as much as perhaps it should have, but then he felt that they were at least an interesting diversion from the rats, and if worst came to worst he would rather eat the beetles then a raw rat.
So far that hadn't been necessary. He may have wished he were dead, but he wasn't starving. Several times over the past few days someone had come in and poured some thick, bitter, pungent smelling broth down his throat. Most often Jared had simply vomited it back up mere minutes later, but once in a while he kept it down. Apparently they wanted him kept alive for either more questioning or some kind of ransom.
Jared's last thought before slipping into unconsciousness was a hearty hope that he would be able to disappoint them by dying in his sleep. ~