I’m shivering uncontrollably in a corner of a large gray room. I am engulfed in an all-consuming cloud of fear and anxiety. Every movement I make is jittery and awkward. I close my eyes and open them again, trying to get them to focus. Nothing is staying still, and I don’t know if it’s just me going crazy or if everything is actually spinning and changing shape.

I shift my eyes to the lights, wondering why they keep going on and off. Or maybe they’re not. I place my head in my shaking hands and close my eyes. In exactly sixty seconds I will black out again. 29, 28, 27… I am not sure what day or what time it is. All my days have consisted of is counting down the seconds until I will be submerged in complete darkness again.

The shrill ringing in my ears is the first indicator that it is getting close, next, breaking out in a cold sweat. Last, there is the feeling of tiny bee stings all over my body. It’s as if my whole body has been lit on fire—the most unimaginable pain.

I open my eyes and begin the countdown again. My neck is sore from the constant twitching and looking fearfully from side to side.

What have they done to me?

3, 2, 1…

I SLOWLY OPEN my eyes and blink as I look around. I’m no longer in the safety of my corner. I’m lying flat on a bed. I have tiny wires hooked to various parts of my body. Thankfully, the shivering has subsided, and my vision is clearer. I see a woman completely absorbed, reading a screen while moving the wires strategically around.

“What’s happening to me?” I ask but realize I never opened my mouth to speak. I have been locked in that gray room for so long I forgot what it is like to actually talk to someone. This time, opening my mouth to speak, I ask her the question.

She turns to look at me, her slick black hair covering half of her pale face, and says, “They are breaking you.” Her voice sounds uniform, like she’s been asked this question a lot and replies with the same answer each time.

I look down at my body and realize I am completely naked. I immediately take my hands and try to cover the areas that should be covered.

“Why am I not wearing clothes?”

Her shadowy eyes shift from the screen and look at me. “It is part of the process. Now calm down and lie flat or we will have to use restraints.”

I do as I’m told. “Why are they breaking me? And what does that even mean?”

“Things can only be fixed once they are broken.” Her cryptic response only confuses me more.

I’m about to reply with another question when I suddenly feel paralyzed. I can think, but I can’t control my body. Not even my mouth. I try to shift my eyes in her direction, but not even they will move. I begin breathing rapidly from the anxiety the feeling of being stuck in my own body is causing. I hear sounds and see the white suits working above me. It’s as if I’m bound by my own body, stuck in a cage that I cannot escape. I scream, but no sound leaves my lips.

I feel intense burning all over my body. I’m pleading silent cries for them to stop. Everyone who is above me has their eyes covered by a white mask. I wish I could at least gauge their expressions to get a clue as to what is happening to me. The woman said “breaking” me. But what does that mean?

The white suits are speaking so quietly that it sounds only like a quiet breeze. I wish I knew what they were saying. Shouldn’t someone have informed me of what I would be going through?

The pain is unbearable. I wish I could move my mouth to at least clench my teeth. Maybe Plath was right. I should have chosen death. But, in that moment, death sounded like an undesirable option. I wish I could rewind time. My body would have been laid peacefully to rest. Instead I lie here with intense pain radiating throughout every part of me and no clear explanation of what is happening.

I OPEN MY eyes and realize I must have finally fallen asleep. Or maybe they felt sorry for me and put me out? I slowly move my fingers to make sure I’m really able to move. To my relief, I can. I move my hands over my body and feel that I am now fully clothed.

I slowly pick my head up. When I feel confident, I sit completely up. I’m in a white room and on a white leather couch. What is their obsession with white? I run my hands over my face and through my hair. For what seemed like eternity, my body went through hell. Now I feel…good. Like really good.

I jump when I hear the doorknob jiggle and quickly stand up. My legs are a bit shaky, and it takes a moment to steady them. I watch as the door cracks open and stiffen as a white suit walks towards me. His voice deep, he says, “Orion, it is time for your test. Come with me.” He starts walking, expecting that I follow. I hesitate before walking behind him.

We enter a long hallway that looks like a clear tube. I can see things going on around us and below us. I also see that there are tubes all over the building, weirdly resembling a hamster cage. Everyone is wearing white. Including me.

“Can you please tell me what I should expect during this test?” I ask, but he shakes his head no and continues walking.

We walk into a room with a table and three chairs. Of course everything is white. I’m instructed to sit down on the far end of the table that is secluded from the other two empty chairs.

“They will be here in a moment,” the man in the white suit announces.

My voice demanding, I ask, “Who will be here?” My breathing picks up when he doesn’t answer and leaves the room.

My eyes fixate on the two empty chairs, and I shift around uncomfortably. I hear the door open and quickly sit up straight. I fold my hands in front of me on my lap and look straight ahead. One man wearing a white shirt and pants sits down in one chair. His hair is shoulder length and blonde. I look down at my feet when the next man walks in. Only he is in jeans and black boots that are very familiar. Oh shit…

I quickly look up at Plath who is discretely shaking his head and demanding with his eyes me to remain calm. Is he crazy? The blond-haired man starts speaking. That is the only damn thing that just saved Plath from me kicking his ass.

“Orion, we have a series of questions. We need to know if the past few months have done anything. If not, we must repeat the process until successful.”

Months? I went through that hell for months? I furrow my eyebrows as I look at the man and then to Plath who is still shaking his head. “Proceed,” I say through a clenched jaw.

“Do you remember anything before accepting the Constable’s offer?”

I’m about to scream yes but notice Plath shaking his head no again. He intensifies his expression. I think he wants me to play dumb.

“No…” I sound a bit unsure and notice Plath looks semi-relieved. I sit up straighter and with more confidence, I say, “No. No I do not.”

He looks over at Plath. “You have no remembrance of this man sitting beside me?” His eyes find me again.

“No,” I lie again.

“Are you sure?” The blond-haired man’s forehead creases as his eyes search mine for the truth.

I nod my head. “I am sure.” Plath is sitting unnaturally still and staring directly at me.

“Next question.” He pulls something from a folder in his lap and sets in it front of me. “Please look at this photo and tell me if you have any remembrance of it.”

I hesitantly look down and almost gasp. Plath has made it clear to play dumb. The picture is of Sage, dead. I take a deep breath and do my best to remain calm.

“This picture is of a girl. Dead. Am I supposed to remember her?” I’m proud at how convincing I’m being, but this act could end any second. I’m on the verge of breaking, and if this isn’t over soon, I’ll lose it for sure.

The man’s mouth remains in a hard line as he places the next photo on the table. It takes every ounce of strength I have to not completely fall apart. It’s my father. Dead.

My body begins to shake, and I play it off as being cold. I feel tears burning my eyes and force them not to fall. I look up at the man. “I have no idea who this is.”

After a series of simple questions about my life growing up and pretending to know nothing, I pass the test. I’m not sure how I do. Inside I feel like a complete wreck.

I wish I could have asked questions about my father’s death. I wish I could have had a shoulder to cry on. I wish I could scream at Plath for betraying me. I wish I could march up to the Constable and ask why they want me to forget everything.

The man and Plath leave the room. A white suit walks in, and it’s obviously a woman. The tight-fitting suit exaggerates her curves. She instructs me to follow her. I stand to my feet and wrap my arms around myself as I follow her.

“Will you please tell me where you are taking me?” I ask as I try to keep up with her fast pace and keep my tears at bay.

“We are going to the cafeteria. It is time for dinner.”

I follow her through more tubes and try to ask questions, but she ignores them all. I take a deep breath and let it out. I try to push the image of my father far from my mind. If I don’t, I will lose it. And one thing I know for sure, I don’t want to go through the breaking process again. Not ever.