Don't Lose Sight of Me

7

How do we know what we know? How do we learn knowledge? Is it through science? Think about the scientific method: question, test, analyze, conclude. The same science tells us dairy is part of the food pyramid when most of the world is lactose intolerant? Do we trust science even when it's fueled by big companies than fueled by questions? Do we trust science when it once told us that someone as sick as was Steve was a waist of oxygen?

Do we learn through our parents? Are we just products of their thoughts and experiences manifested in a slightly different person? Should we listen to their experiences clouded by biases and human errors? We are nothing but our brains, and who helps develop them—our parents.

Is history a source of knowledge? History is written by the winners, the losers don't get to tell their story. So who's story are we missing? Can history be knowledge if it's one sided?

How about numbers? Can numbers lie? Well who's telling them? In what context? I crave logic, I've based my life off of it. It's the only thing that makes sense to me. It's an easy road to follow. But what is logic? And who dictates what is logical and what is not.

How do we know what we know? How can we trust it? How can I trust this reality, and the knowledge I've learned. What can I trust? I can't trust what I see, what I hear, what I feel. So how do I know what's real or not.

I don't know what kind of drugs they had me on, but the torture of their choosing was all mental. I'd have these hallucinations, dreams really, that they manipulated to see how I'd react to them. They learned my strengths, but mostly my weaknesses through them. Not to mention all my hallucinations involved someone else close to me so they also learned their weaknesses as I saw them.

Wanda told them about my dreams. She'd watch them trough my mind and report back to them. She'd tell them everything.

I don't remember a lot of them, but oddly I remember the feel of them. I've suppressed things as illogical as emotions for as long as I can remember, so it's ridiculous that those are what stuck with me. The world is funny in an unfair, twisted way. What I was trying to ignore seemed to be the only real thing in this whole experience.

The handful of hallucinations that I do remember were like nightmares. Someone ended up dead, it was either myself or a loved one. Always someone close to me appeared. Always in the same room too, a dark, concrete room. There's always a choice too. Do I let them kill me or do I kill them? By giving me a choice HYDRA learned my deepest boundaries. What do I do to protect myself, what would I do to protect others. How do I kill a person as quickly as possible.

The one that stuck with me the most, plays over and over again in the back of my mind. It's like it's printed on the back of my eyelids, every time I close my eyes I can see it. I can feel it, I can hear it.

The room is pitch black like it always is. And then the light flickers on, as someone enters the room. The hum of electricity is the only noise I hear. The person doesn't step into the light, only their presence is felt. I'm outfitted in my uniform, but stripped of weapons. A little boy is snuggled into my chest, I'm holding him to me. I allow it. He's shaking with fear, whimpering and trying to keep quiet all at once. He doesn't want me to leave him. I wouldn't anyway, he's mine. Somehow he's my responsibility. I don't recognize him, I don't know him, but I put a hand on his back rubbing circles trying to calm him. When I lean towards him to try to talk to him, he doesn't utter a word. His eyes, his big blue eyes avoid the spot where a person holds. I forgot about them. I stand up, he comes up to my thigh. I stand, holding my ground and I expect the other in the room to make themselves known.

As the person steps foreword the boy whimpers. I pull him behind me. It's just Steve though. I let out a sigh in relief.

"What's going on?" I questioned him as the little boy sobs behind me. He's grabbing at my uniform.