"You don't destroy someone by hurting them. You do it by making them ask: 'Was I ever real?'"
[Scene: Day 5 — Chamber 027-B | 06:21 AM]
She awoke mid-sentence.
"—am Arisa—"
The collar zapped. A low, internal hum shut her voice down instantly. Her mouth twitched. Her throat felt blistered.
The lights above flickered in a slow, nauseating pulse.
Her hands were curled beneath her body, wrists bruised, dirt under her nails. There was no bed anymore — just cold tile. Again. She didn't know how long she'd been down here. Could've been two days. Could've been seven.
A screen blinked to life on the far wall.
"Cognitive Compliance Test #4 — INITIATING."
Status: Emotional Integrity — 32%
Threshold for Breakdown — 40%
Then came a new voice — not mechanical, not feminine.
A man's voice.
"Good morning, Ash."
Her head snapped up.
She knew that voice.
"Riven…?"
She barely breathed it.
The collar didn't shock her this time. It warmed. A faint reward.
She dropped her gaze.
[Scene: Riven's Private Terminal — Remote Access Mode: ENGAGED]
He sat cross-legged on his apartment couch, curtains drawn. Two monitors lit his face — one showing Chamber 027-B, the other a dashboard of live telemetry:
Obedience Response Time: 3.2s
Cognitive Fragmentation: 59%
Self-Identity Rejection: 44%
He swirled his glass once. Then typed a command:
Command_#0211: Inject False Memory File (Tag: Volunteer Submission)
Description: Subject recalls signing herself into the system.
He pressed [EXECUTE].
[Scene: Chamber — Flash Override Begins]
Her pupils dilated. Lights in the room strobed once — red to white to black.
She blinked.
Suddenly, she wasn't in the chamber anymore.
She was sitting in a bright office — a clipboard in her lap. A pen in her hand. Her own signature already scribbled across the form:
"I, Arisa Valen, willingly submit myself to the E.H.I.S. Behavioral Program to correct my emotional volatility."
The hallucination felt… real.
Her father's voice spoke beside her.
"This is your path now. Accept it."
She turned. But the seat next to her was empty.
The clipboard vanished. The room melted.
She was back in the white chamber, hands trembling, gasping for breath.
"No… no, I didn't—sign anything—!"
But the memory wouldn't leave.
[Scene: Audio Conditioning Protocol — Hour 2]
A hidden speaker hissed to life.
Then: her own voice played.
But it was edited. Tilted. Weaponized.
"He exists because I let him."
"They were never friends. They were pets."
"Riven? He's beneath me."
It was her tone. Her pitch. Her inflection.
But she couldn't remember saying any of it.
A mirrored wall emerged again. But her face was gone — blurred. Her collar and her body remained. But the identity… lost.
"Subject Identity — Corrupted."
"Reflections disabled."
Then came the whisper:
"You don't exist unless we say you do."
She backed into the corner. But there were no corners anymore.
[Scene: External Orders Panel — Riven's Interface]
He issued the next sequence:
Command_#0243: Assign Name-Trigger Conditioning
Effect: Subject experiences calming sedation only when addressed by Riven as "Ash"
Then he activated the microphone.
His voice streamed directly into the cell:
"Sleep, Ash. Not because you want to. Because I let you."
She dropped instantly.
[Scene: Loop Ritual — Unknown Hour]
Later, she was marched into a narrow corridor. Three screens awaited. Each displayed a scene from her old life:
Arisa mocking Samuel at lunch.
Arisa making Tony cry during a joke gone too far.
Arisa turning her back on Riven as others laughed.
Then a static screen. Her name faded.
Arisa Valen — DECEASED
New text burned in:
Ash — ACTIVE SUBJECT
A mechanical voice repeated:
"Arisa is gone. Say your name."
"I… I am…"
She hesitated.
The collar buzzed.
"Say it."
"Ash."
Reward pulse.
The screen changed:
Name Acceptance — 53%
Autonomy Retention — DETERIORATING
[Scene: Riven – Payment Console Update]
BTC Transfer Complete
5.00 BTC – Tier III Custom Reprogramming Package
Features: Memory injection, emotional reset, remote voice command, identity erasure.
Status: VERIFIED
He closed the transaction log and sipped slowly.
She wasn't broken yet. But she was cracking perfectly.
[Scene: Final Trigger – Father's Message]
When she returned to her cell, the lights were red.
A screen lowered from the ceiling.
It played a video.
Her father stood before a dark backdrop. Face tired. Voice level.
"You brought shame to our name. You were given everything. And you wasted it."
Her eyes widened.
"This is not punishment. It's your reset."
She screamed.
The collar blocked the sound.
Her fingernails dug into her scalp.
"This is what love looks like now," he said.
The screen didn't switch off.
It just looped.
Again.
And again.
Until she curled up and whispered:
"My name is Ash."
Not because she believed it.
But because her brain needed the pain to stop.