Pain

Pain was liquid, he'd discovered. When he got back to his cell after another round of interrogation, he would sit on his bed and watch the red, see-through liquid trickle down his body, onto the floor and into the puddle in the corner, where the floor dropped a foot. He had dipped the little finger on his left hand in the red liquid, because it was numb and it hurt if he touched it with any other part of his body, and drawn a line on the floor, and when the puddle of pain reached the line he would drown himself in it.