I remember the stark, white walls, the fluorescent lights that would scald your eyes, and the white training suits with your number emblazoned in a thick, black font on your back. That's all you were, a number. The meals were bland and tasteless. They were geared for nutrition, nothing else. You weren't allowed to talk to the other trainees. Training was all you knew, and God forbid if you were soft. Of course, I was.
All I could think about was how I was mutilating someone's sibling, lover, or friend. The blood on the training mats was usually mine.
That is, until the instructors had had enough. Then they took me into rooms and would whip me. Beat me. Break my bones. They would scream at me. My world became agony. They forced me to train through my injuries. Every time I moved, a white hot flash of torment almost blinded me. I was quite literally dying, incapacitated to the point I had fainted several times because the pain was so exquisite that my body was physically unable of handling it. But I couldn't cope with the mental pain that injuring my peers would cause.
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Anubis
Short StoryThe United States has fallen, and has given way to a new government. Their tactic is fear, and their tools are their elite soldiers. They are enlisted seemingly at random, torn from their loving families' arms to serve as puppets to the government...
