"Names are the first thing to go," I heard myself say. "Can't maintain sense of self if you don't own your identifier."
He looked at me sharp. "Experience talking?"
"Continue."
Nathan pulled out another file. "Mathew Thompson. Veteran. PTSD made him desperate enough to sign anything that promised help. They told him they were developing new therapeutic techniques."
"Were they?"
"If you consider systematic destruction of personal autonomy therapeutic." His hands flexed like he wanted to hit something. "They broke him down completely. Taught him he couldn't make decisions without permission. Couldn't eat without approval. Couldn't shit without someone telling him it was allowed."
My fingers found the edge of the table, gripping hard enough to whiten knuckles. Each word was a mirror, reflecting memories I'd repackaged as training rather than programming.
"By the time local authorities raided the facility, Mathew couldn't function. Asked permission to breathe if someone didn't explicitly tell him to continue." Nathan's voice went rough. "He killed himself six months later. Left a note asking if that was okay."
"How many?" I asked.
"That we know of? Ninety-seven confirmed subjects across three facilities. Most were vulnerable—homeless, addicted, desperate. The Institute promised safety, structure, purpose." He laughed bitterly. "Delivered on all three. Just not how anyone expected."
"They weren't all like that." The words escaped before I could stop them.
Nathan went still. "What do you mean?"
"Some subjects—some of us chose it. Wanted it. The complete surrender, the freedom that comes from having every choice made for you." My hands shook slightly. I pressed them flat against the table. "It's seductive when your mind won't stop racing. When decisions feel like drowning."
"Bunny..."
"I was twenty-three when Gabriel found me." The words tasted like ash and honeyed poison. "Living in a studio apartment that came with a free cockroach infestation and view of a dumpster, working two jobs just to afford it. Paranoia and hypervigilance from a childhood that taught me everyone was a threat. Couldn't maintain relationships because trust was just another word for vulnerability."
Nathan stayed quiet, letting me unspool the thread that might unravel everything.
"I'm not too sure how they found me, just that they did." I touched my temple where phantom headaches lived. "Offered me a job. Said he ran a research facility that could use someone with my particular damage for research, with my particular life lessons."
"You believed him?"
"I wanted to." The admission scraped. "He was so calm. Controlled. Everything I wasn't. When he spoke, the chaos in my head went quiet. First time in years I could think straight."
"Classic manipulation. Target the vulnerable—"
"No." I cut him off. "That's the thing. He never lied. Never promised healing or normalcy. Said he wanted to see how far my mind could bend without breaking. Said he'd give me structure, purpose, a framework to exist within. All I had to do was sign."
"The contract."
"An obscene amount of pages that all read the same thing, I would be property. That I was volunteering for experimental protocols. That I was waiving all rights to autonomous decision-making within Institute grounds." I laughed, the sound like breaking glass. "I signed because I didn't believe they would actually cash in. I was hoping to scam the scammers, trick them out of their money and disappear. Who would have "All rights of refusal revoked upon activation," in a contract?"
Nathan reached across the table. I pulled back.
"Don't. I need to finish this clear-headed." I pressed my forehead against the cool window. "Sleep deprivation. Sensory manipulation. Rewards and punishments calibrated to reshape my responses. He was teaching me to be perfectly obedient, completely dependent. A pet who couldn't function without her master's hand."
"You got out though. Survived without him."
"Did I?" I turned to face him. "I live by schedules rigid enough to be pathological. Eat the same foods in the same amounts. Can only sleep if I've completed specific routines. Even now, even free, I'm dancing to his programming."
"You're healing. Growth isn't—"
"He didn't save me, Nathan." The words cracked something fundamental. "He selected me. Saw a broken toy that could be reshaped into what he wanted. And I let him. Begged him to, most days, once the initial phases ended."
Nathan stood slowly, approaching like I might bolt. Smart man. "You were vulnerable. He exploited that."
