A short story

And so it was, as he lay there beaten by a cruel vicious God, he finally woke up from the hell he'd been enduring. They nearly had him, the other members couldn't understand his desire to leave. They warned him that leaving would result in pain, misery and ultimately death, but at that moment it seemed like the preferred option. He noticed that his heart was still beating, this was good news, something to build on. His ties weren't completely broken with the outside world, they had needed him out there at one point, enthusiastically recruiting new members. He'd converted a few, and was still too weak to rectify this. This would have to be left till another time, once the body and mind had healed sufficiently from the battering they had endured. He knew this was war, no-one should ever have to suffer like this again, but at the moment he needed to rest. 5 years of damage was not going to be reversed in a few days, that would be as insane as the brain washing techniques used to induce his current state. He could feel his anger, but there was something else returning. Was it laughter? Perhaps even sarcasm? This was a positive sign, sarcasm had been frowned upon. The deprogramming was kicking in. Plenty of physical rest was called for, but the mind was still spinning, or untying the knots that had been tied so tightly in his brain. Crazy thoughts were snapping and being gobbled up by new or perhaps old rational thoughts. It felt good, really good. Things were still shaky, but he hadn't been beaten. Not a chance. 

Here was his dilemma, should he try and save his friends? He decided against it. He doubted anyone would contact him. He'd dumped people who had left the group and was now disgusted by his behaviour. They preached " unconditional love ", but it would appear there were conditions attached. 

A good sleep and the knowledge that there were others out there who had escaped filled his heart with joy. The tiredness had shifted swiftly and that old zest for life was creeping back in. Still none of his old friends had been in touch. A hearty breakfast was in order as he chuckled round the kitchen. Order was being restored and he felt it was better to laugh at the insanity than cry over the years lost in it. Perhaps that would come later? He doubted it. He wasn't powerless at all. Years waiting on the group removing the self-pity had only increased it. This was better than any miracle he had heard about. It was freedom.