My body is not my own. Wake up, they command me, and my body wakes, but does nothing more, awaits further instruction.
My mind, me! I watch the world as if through a window.
They command: get dressed, stretch, jog, exercise, strip, shower. My body does these things, I have no say in the matter, opinion long since driven from me, agency a vestige from a different life.
I chose this, long ago. I, of my own volition, chose the Special Prison Unit. I knew full well what I was signing up for, I thought. I wanted the freedom it could grant me. I knew I was lucky to even have the opportunity, to have met their physical requirements. I thought I was ok with the cost.
I wash the sweat off me. They want us fit, toned. They keep us healthy, build our stamina. It’s not strength they’re after, or even our ability to take punishment. That plays into it, but they’d punish us even if we couldn’t take it.
No, it’s beauty they’re after.