A large awkward microphone is pushed towards me on the table that I am seated before. Beyond, I can see a giant TV camera with a red light on top. Hot lights bear down on top of me, and I can feel a trickle of sweat form on my brow. I vaguely can make out the form of an audience seated in escalating rows behind the cameras.
I look down and see I’m wearing a cream-colored uniform bordering mocha-colored wrists.
“And you say you were brainwashed?” a voice says. I look up, and it is a white man dressed in a suit, his black helmet-shaped hair swept to one side.
“Yes. That is correct. We never used biological weapons on the civilians of Korea but we were made to believe it overtime,” I find myself lying into the mic.
“Believe it, how?” the man presses.
“Torture. Deprivation. Coercion. They have their ways.” I reply.
[Deleted]
YOU ARE READING
[Del]'s Diary
Science Fiction"Del" wakes up drugged in a seemingly empty hospital -- locked in a room. Everything she has ever known has been deleted: her memories, her identity, even her name. But then the night visits start and she begins to be tortured by memories that could...
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