I was a US prisoner at Gitmo. It got worse than you can imagine, but this is the real horror.

**Warning: very graphic.** The best way I can explain it is that Dadelander came in through my mirror at night, when I was sleeping. That’s the only reason I saw him at all. Otherwise nothing about the experience would have been any different from a dream. Dadelander was tall, maybe six feet four. His body was unremarkable - a short, dark blue suit, no tie. He had a pale face with no hair and sunken brown eyes. I remember the eyes most of all. They were completely empty. He stood in front of my bed and waved his hand in a slow, backwards motion. I couldn’t feel anything when he did it, but something made it clear that I had to get out of bed. I stood up. Everything around me was foggy, with sharp lines where the real world and the illusion blended. There was a desk in the corner, next to the nightstand. On top of the nightstand there was a lamp. On top of the lamp there was a fly. I remember the fly most of all. Everything else is foggy, but not that fly. It moved around in circles. I could see its wings. I could see its eyes. Dadelander waved his hand again, and I walked over to the nightstand. I picked up the lamp, and the fly flew up and disappeared into the fog. Dadelander waved again, and I threw the lamp at him. It hit him squarely in the chest and shattered into a million pieces. He didn’t react. He just stood there, waving his hand. I picked up the nightstand and threw it at him. It hit him squarely in the chest and splintered into a million pieces. He didn’t react. He just stood there, waving his hand. I picked up the desk and threw it at him. It hit him squarely in the chest and shattered into a million pieces. He didn’t react. He just stood there, waving his hand. I picked up the fog and threw it at him. It hit him squarely in the chest and shattered into a million pieces. He finally reacted. He looked at me with a mixture of sadness and disgust, and said “What a waste of potential.” Then he was gone. When I woke up my head hurt. There was a large bandage wrapped around my forehead. I sat up and put my hand on it, and it started to bleed. I stood up and walked to the shower, turned it on, and stepped inside. There was blood on my feet. There was blood on my calves. There was blood on my thighs. There was blood all over my body. I looked down at my feet and saw that my toes were missing. I didn’t remember feeling any pain when I threw the nightstand. I got out of the shower, dried myself off, and went to the cafeteria. There was blood all over the floor. There was blood on the walls. There was blood on the ceiling. I saw a familiar face. It was Dr. Zaydan. I walked up to him. “Where am I?” I asked. He didn’t answer. I repeated my question. “Where am I?” I asked. Still, he didn’t answer. I repeated my question again. “Where am I?” I asked. Then he did answer. “You’re in hell,” he said. “You’ve been in hell since the day you were born.” Then he was gone. I sat down at a table and waited for someone to come over to me. It wasn’t long. I heard footsteps coming from my left. I looked up and saw two guards standing next to me. One of them was familiar. It was Lieutenant Colonel Drake. I tried to say something to them. I tried to ask my question again. I don’t remember what came out of my mouth. I don’t remember what they said back. I just remember feeling intense pain. I woke up in a hospital room, bandaged from head to toe. I called out for someone to come and see me, and a guard walked in. “You have a visitor, prisoner,” he said. “Do not speak to him. Do not look at him. Do not do anything but sit there and pretend you don’t know who he is.” I looked up and saw a man walking in through the door. It was my father. “Dad,” I said. “What are you doing here?” “I came to see if you’re okay,” he said. “I heard there was a problem with your experiment. I wanted to see if you were all right.” “I’m fine,” I said. “Thanks.” He looked at me funny. “Thanks?” “Yes,” I said. “Thank you.” He looked at me even funnier. “Thanks?” he said. “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” He looked at me like I was crazy. “Thanks?” he said. “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” He started laughing. He laughed for a long time. I don’t know how long. Finally he stopped. “Are you okay, son?” he asked. “I’m worried about you.” “I’m fine,” I said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” He laughed again. After a while he stopped, and said “Are you okay, son?” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” He laughed again. After a while he stopped, and said “Are you okay, son?” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” He laughed again. After a while he stopped, and said “Are you okay, son?” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” He laughed again. After a while he stopped, and said “Are you okay, son?” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” He laughed again. After a while he stopped, and said “Are you okay, son?” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” He laughed again. After a while he stopped, and said “Are you okay, son?” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” He laughed again. After a while he stopped, and said “Are you okay, son?” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” He laughed again. After a while he stopped, and said “Are you okay, son?” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” He laughed again. After a while he stopped, and said “Are you okay, son?” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” He laughed again. After a while he stopped, and said “Are you okay, son?” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” He laughed again. After a while he stopped, and said “Are you okay, son?” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” He laughed again. After a while he stopped, and said “Are you okay, son?” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” He laughed again. After a while he stopped, and said “Are you okay, son?” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” He laughed again. After a while he stopped, and said “Are you okay, son?” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” He laughed again. After a while he stopped, and said “Are you okay, son?” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” He laughed again. After a while he stopped, and said “Are you okay, son?” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” He laughed again. After a while he stopped, and said “Are you okay, son?” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” He laughed again. After a while he stopped, and said “Are you okay, son?” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” He laughed again. After a while he stopped, and said “Are you okay, son?” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” He laughed again. After a while he stopped, and said “Are you okay, son?” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” He laughed again. After a while he stopped, and said “Are you okay, son?” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” He laughed again. After a while he stopped, and said “Are you okay, son?” “Yes,” I said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.” “Yes,” I said. “

I was a US prisoner at Gitmo. It got worse than you can imagine, but this is the real horror.

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