Fallujah, Iraq
It was pitch black and the prisoner didn’t know how long he’d been out. He was concussed and his ears rang at unbearable levels. His head throbbed. Everything was surreal and dreamlike. The bag that covered his head wasn’t quite allowing enough oxygen and he felt nauseous and wanted to wretch. But if he let loose, he knew he’d run the risk of drowning in his own vomit. He decided to avoid it at all costs.
He instantly began to meditate and focus his mind internally to calm down and not panic. Slowing down his heart rate and breathing would be an integral part of critical thinking and formulation of his plan to escape. He had no choice. He simply couldn’t allow himself to give information to the enemy. If it came down to it, he realized, his life would need to be taken - and most likely, he would need to see to it himself.
Focusing on nothing, or just on breathing was hard. He’d always had trouble with that part of meditation, so, as his mind began to wonder off and contemplate the fate of Montez, Jensen, and Meier, he forced every bit of energy and willpower to moving back to the here and now - his breathing and heartbeat.
No one could get to him as long as he stayed hidden within his own mind.
How had it gone wrong? When did their reinforcements arrive? And, how many were there really?
Stop it, man! Focus! Focus on survival! You have to get back! Just like before. You got this. Don’t let her win! She can’t hurt you anymore… No, you idiot! Don’t let THEM win! Forget about her! Focus on RIGHT NOW! You have to get out of here alive. Slow the breathing. Let the heartbeat take care of itself. Just slow down, man. Take it easy!
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