(Otto POV)
I woke up to a bright room which I expected to be an infirmary. I fluttered my eyes to quickly get used to the brightness of the room. I looked around me and saw tubes in my arms. I immediately, out of reflex, ripped them out. A little blood came out because of the way ripped them out. I quickly got out of bed and stood upright for about 2 seconds before I basically collapsed and crashed into the IV bag I was connected to. I had caused it to fall over and crash into another and that fell over. Someone ran into the room and ran to my aid. I turned around ready to throw my left arm as hard as I could at whom ever was behind me when I stopped 3 inches from Doc's face.
Doc: "A-are you a-alright?" He says a little shaken from what almost occurred.
Me: "Does it look like it dumbass?" I say with heavy sarcasm.
Doc: "Alright I'll give you some sleep meds tonight, the guards are starting to get PTSD from your screams and sleep talking nightmares. It should help you relax a bit too." He says helping me up.
I go through what feels like a normal day finally. I toss the meds into the cafeteria trash bin when Doc gives me the meds.
I finally feel tired enough to go to cot once I head back to my cell at 2300 hours. I change and get into my cot only pulling a sheet over me. I let the darkness of the night overtake me in my sleep. Then a nightmare assumed comes.
(Flashback/Nightmare)
I sit there bloody in a rotting wooden chair. Destroyed cement walls surround me as man of Arab stature walks up to me with a blow torch and a machete. His dull dark brown eyes bore holes into my memory for the millionth time. He turns his blowtorch on and starts heating the burnt machete in his right hand.
Arab: "Otto, Otto... Your such a rebel. I heard something a rumor that Crusader Squadron's personal little relic didn't like what high command said a few days ago. Their little relic said something along the lines of 'Who the fuck do they think we are? Slaves?' Correct?" He grins with his sand colored turban on his head and his desert splotched uniform.
He takes the not burning machete and places it horizontally on my thigh.
"AAAAAaaaaahhhhhhh!!" I scream as I he pulls my head back by my hair.
Arab: "Hehehe. Puny. You may be physically modified, but the mind, the mind is more difficult to change. You see it takes more time to forcefully change. The way you can change it by force is to break the mind down to very survival. Offer no other way except to join and eventually you'll be joining. The question is, how long will it take you? How much suffering can you willingly take?" The man walks right up to me and get close to me with questioning eyes.
I slam my head into his and he reels back. I clench my jaw tight and wait for more torture to come...
(A/N I hope this is going well. I really need to get this going faster. Sorry for the shorter chapters)
