He rotated the hourglass around, searching for any other inscriptions, any clue as to who may have imprisoned him in this cold stone cell. Those were the only words, carved almost imperceptibly into the side of the smooth black wooden base. Suffer The Little Children – he felt a sudden relief as he recognised it was just a biblical inscription. Why leave an overlarge egg timer with a biblical reference to children here with him? A headache started over his left temple, pulses of pain throbbing through his head. His hands left his chest to hold his head, holding it tight as if that might lessen the feeling that his brain was attempting to force its way out of his skull. A groan of pain escaped his dry lips, causing the dogs to pick up their heads from the cold flagstone floor, watching him with an intensity that would have frightened him had his eyes not been screwed tightly shut against the agony.

The children. He’d not thought of the children for years now, ever since the orphanage had closed. He had hoped the sickness would go away with the temptation and until recently that had seemed to be the case. It was just as well, a man in his position being caught with child porn on his computer. It didn’t bear thinking about. Just the idea of being locked up in prison with those he’d put away – marked out as a judge and a paedophile – he wouldn’t have lasted long. That thought alone was enough to deter him from visiting those sites on the dark web where he knew he could find ready access to the most depraved material.

People would never understand – he loved those children. He knew they wanted it as much as he did. He started crying, lost in a well of self-pity at the thought that he might die here, alone and unloved. No tears fell, he had none to offer.

As the hours wound on, he entered a delirious state. He entered a world where he held all the power, where nobody could stand in his way, where he had friends in very high places and they all shared the same secret. They had all had their favourites at the orphanage, safe behind their shields of respectability, safe behind the Sisters of Holy Mercy who took special care to beat the sin out of those children who seduced men like him. “We were the victims.” His voice was a faint croak.

Who had done this? Who had the temerity to do this to him? Anger replaced the pity and self-loathing. When he got out of here someone would pay, he’d make sure of that. The headache that had incapacitated him lessened as he fell into a fitful sleep.