Want to hear brand new horror stories brought to life, live? Join me every Sunday at 7 p.m. Eastern Time on the Doctor No Sleep Podcast YouTube channel, where I narrate fresh, never before heard stories in real time. Just search Doctor No Sleep podcast on YouTube, and make sure you're subscribed with notifications on so you don't miss it. Being out of my tiny cell was like waking from a nightmare.

Seeing another human's face was like cool spring water to a desert-weary traveler,

even if that face was scowling and positioned behind the heavy

plastic visor of a guard helmet. I strolled along down the corridor, not daring to ask if I was

going back with the general population. Fantasies of playing chess with my old cellmate, Dorian,

surfaced in my mind. I barely gave any attention to the depressing thought

that my fantasies no longer involved being a free man again. Those were too grand to contemplate,

and too depressing when they inevitably came crashing down. The two guards escorting me,

one in front and one behind, brought me through a series of security

doors. As we reached a windowless containment chamber door, I noticed a cracked water pitcher

sitting on the concrete floor nearby, like one that would filter water. Only this one was

missing the inner components, leaving only the cracked and scuffed outer shell.

The lead guard picked the empty pitcher up, shoved it into my bound in front of me hands,

and then opened the door.

Get in, the other guard said, punctuating the command with the boot to my backside.

I stumbled into the cell, those old feelings of defiance coming to the fore again.

On the outside, back before I pissed off the wrong, powerful man, I had been fairly calm and quiet.

Back then, anyone who knew me would have said I was the least likely guy to fly into a rage.

But my time as a prisoner of the foundation had changed me. So as I stumbled

into the cell, I had to quell the urge to turn around and hurl the water pitcher at the guard who

kicked me. It was too lightweight to do any damage, and only would have earned me another beating.

The bruises for my last one were only now fading. As the door closed behind me,

...