The Person I'd Become

A microfiction inspired by a photo I once took

You — I mean YOU, personally, Mr. or Ms. Whoever-You-Are — you probably will never know what it’s like to go through the six months I’ve just gone through. Good for you; not so good for me...

The forced addiction was bad enough. But the piecemeal dismemberment of self which followed — that nearly finished me...

By the time I emerged, the person I’d become would have been unrecognizable to the person who'd entered the program: now physically fit, apparently unable to forget anything, and quite capable of killing a man with my bare hands. Or a woman, come to that. And probably a child (although the occasion hasn’t yet arisen).