The tension drained from his rigid frame. Craft took a deep breath and stopped fighting the compulsion to answer her questions. “We were introduced to the program as an experiment. The best of the best taking war fighting to the next level. Once we’d signed on the dotted line, we were released from our units and reassigned to Team Fear. Before we knew who was on the team, we were injected with shit that made us lose our minds.”
“Wait. Describe it.” Her features were animated, curious and engaged. “Losing your minds how? What does that look like?”
“It looks like grown-ass men rolling in a river of glass. Horrific pain. Sensitivity to light. Headaches. We lost time.”
“Meaning?”
“We blacked out. Woke up bruised or bloody. Couldn’t remember training. Hell, half of that time, I wondered if I’d sold my soul. The doctors took months to titrate the proper dosage, which varied by individual.”
“Why did you stay?”
“Honey, do you really think they gave us a choice? We signed up for the program. We stuck it out. End of fucking story. Once the men in lab coats normalized our dosage, we no longer felt fear.”
She rested her elbows on the table, leaned on her folded hands. “Was it worth it?”