Hearing as you are, there is water dripping about, though echoing seems to mnove where it is with every drop. Drip, drip, drip. Like the water torture, only just out of sight. And a raspy breath, slowly drawing in and out. It seems foreign but is in time with your own. Chains rattling. Nothing else.
Sight, taste and touch are impared. The darkness coupled with the chains make it impossible for any hope of being able to feel or see anything. There is too, the distinct taste of blood, which permeates through taste and smell. Is it your own? Or have you done something that would condemn your mind and your conscience? Perhaps forced into acts that could not be redeemed.
Head sinking low, out of fear of what will happen to you. Whatever lies in the shadows does not want to be seen, and until it does, the unkown is all that will be seen and heard. While it hides itself, nothing can be done. Just waiting for the inevitable fate to take place.