Conditioned To Kill - Far Cry 5

THE NIGHTMARE

Part 8

THE NIGHTMARE

      It was cold that night.

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Cecelia wasn't sure where she was. The room was dimmed and only a projector with pictures of wolves biting animals and dead deer was playing.

Strong. Weak. Strong. Weak.

Her eyes were unblinkable and stiff when she stared at it. She didn't know what else was in the room with her. A few more mumbles and that was it and she figured that there were other people in the room with her.

She wished she could move, but she couldn't. Something was keeping her in place. If she looked from the projector she would see her arms tied to a chair. Her head was spinning. The surroundings became blurry and spun and then they didn't and then they did. It was a continuous cycle.

Someone had drug her whilst she was in the chair.

The noise in the room was unbearable. Music was playing too loudly for her mind to cope.; speeches of some sort were played in between the music. Words such as: "The weak have their purpose."

Cecelia felt lost in all of it, like she'd fallen down a rabbit's hole so much so that there was no returning to climb back up again. She was drowning and no muscle of hers would pull her up again for air.

The music; the moans; the speeches.

"The weak always see themselves as heroes. No matter their cause, they think of themselves as warriors. But they're not warriors, they're children. They are not strong, they are weak. And they are being hunted."

The speech was loud. It poisoned the minds of those in the chairs and it was a disease for the mind to be tempered with like.

Cecelia wasn't sure if she had adjusted to all this -if she'd been classically conditioned or if she'd been indoctrinated, her eyes were tired of looking at the same thing.

Strong. Weak. Strong. Weak.

The door to the room swiftly opened, causing her gaze to meet the door. Someone walked in. Someone she didn't know. It made her blood run like icicles; it made her sweat a waterfall. She wanted to close her eyes -she couldn't. And she know why.

An ache erupted in arm as a pick was somewhat injected into her bloodstream. She began to panic; she began to feel dizzy. That someone that had walked caused that pain. Little did she know but that someone had re-administered the Bliss intake that was suppose to keep her indoctrinated for what needs to be forever.

The speeches were mixed with forsaken music that kept on ringing and ringing and ringing. Almost ear-deafening. It boomed against Cecelia's eardrums. Fighting for survival.

Her head was falling but it was stuck in the place. She fell down the rabbit's hole. Deep enough to be controlled. To do what? Train and sacrifice.

The someone who had came in, left and locked the door on their way out.

Cecelia was in turmoil.

More and more and more. More and more and more.

She wanted scream -she couldn't. She wanted cry -she couldn't. She wanted to be free -she couldn't.

More and more time passed of Cecelia just sitting in the chair looking at the projector. Her thoughts going white and what become of them was nothing. Her thoughts were of sacrifice. With a flick of the slides, the pattern of the wolves and the dying wildlife changed to a video.