The Recall Trials -
Chapter 91: Cognitive Reframing Technique
Chapter 91: Cognitive Reframing Technique
The Eighth Trial
Vincent’s POV
I kept running.
I could still hear Zaara screaming my name from somewhere behind the walls.
But I didn’t stop.
Because if I stopped....I’d drown in my own head.
My vision was still spinning as I stumbled forward, out of the fog, into a corridor of blinding white lights.
"Contest 001. Congratulations for passing the Eighth Trial,"
the voice boomed overhead.
My chest heaved, sweat dripping down my spine. I was still in fear. Fear from the scene. From the blood. From screaming Zaara’s name into shadows that weren’t real....and somehow felt too real.
"One contestant has been eliminated." The voice said.
Suddenly, red warning lights flared across the hall like sirens.
I thought of Zaara.
Please, not her.
A masked guard stepped out of nowhere, grabbed my arm, and guided me through a security door. I didn’t resist. My legs barely remembered how to walk.
He escorted me into the main room....I blinked into the light.
Already inside were six other contestants....some slumped against walls, some pacing, one sitting on the floor hugging her knees.
My eyes darted around wildly.
No Zaara.
No Jojo..
No Carter.
Not even Nomi.
Panic gripped my chest.
Bleep.
"Another contestant has been eliminated."
A girl with freckles let out a sharp sob. She was trembling so hard she couldn’t stay upright.
"This is the sixth time they’ve announced someone eliminated already,"
a guy with messy hair muttered. "Six people... just... gone."
The freckled girl wiped her nose. "I’m so nervous. I thought I’d never find my way out. The walls kept changing. It....it knew things about me. Things I haven’t told anyone."
Another guy in a neon bandana shoved his hands through his hair. "The game almost swallowed me whole. I swear... I saw my dead mom. She kept telling me to stay with her. I almost did."
A tall girl standing near the metal tables spoke up. "Mine kept looping this... this scene from my life. When I nearly drowned. Over and over. I could feel the water in my lungs. I thought I’d die in there."
Someone else exhaled shakily. "They’re using our trauma against us. I don’t even know what’s real anymore."
I stepped closer.
"That’s the point of the game. To make us think we deserve whatever happens. They want us hopeless."
The neon-bandana guy glared at me. "Easy for you to say. You’re Sector A. The wildcard. You grew up with money. You don’t know shit about being hunted like this."
A pulse of guilt shot through me. But I stood my ground.
"You’re wrong. We’re all hunted in here. They don’t care where we’re from. They just want blood."
People shifted uncomfortably, some looking away, some meeting my eyes.
Bleep.
"Another contestant has been eliminated."
My fists clenched so hard.
The freckled girl whispered, "I hope my friend makes it back. I can’t... I can’t lose her too."
Neon-bandana guy swallowed. "If this keeps going, there’ll be no one left."
I stared at the door, praying for Zaara. For Jojo. Nomi. For any of them.
Then....
The lock hissed.
The door slid open.
A masked guard stepped in, gripping someone by the arm.
Another contestant.
Alive.
We all froze.
Please let it be one of them.
Nomi.
She jerked her arm away from the masked guard so hard he nearly stumbled back.
"Get your filthy hands off me," she spat, glaring at him like she could bounce on him. She walked into the room with her hair messy, shaking with adrenaline.
"What sort of game was that in there? These people are psychos," she hissed her teeth in disgust, brushing dirt from her arms as she stormed toward the locker area.
She didn’t even look at me. Just kept moving like she’d punch the next person who got in her way.
Bleep.
"One contestant has been eliminated."
Then again.
Bleep.
"Another contestant has been eliminated."
And again.
Bleep.
"Another contestant has been eliminated."
Someone whispered under their breath, "Ten contestants eliminated already..."
The freckled girl, murmured, "So trauma kills faster than any physical trial."
A guy I’d barely noticed until now stepped forward. Short, stocky, dark eyes with thick square glasses.
He cleared his throat and lifted one hand slightly.
"My name’s George."
His voice was soft.
"I was literally the first to end today’s trial"
Gasps rippled through the group.
Neon-bandana guy’s head snapped around. "Hold up. You beat that trial first? How the hell did you do that?"
George shoved his hands into the pockets of his jumpsuit and exhaled, as though deciding whether to share a secret.
"Because I’m a psychologist. And there’s a trick to it."
Everyone leaned in closer, suddenly desperate.
George looked around the room, making eye contact with each of us.
"Because I’m a psychologist. The maze wasn’t real, but our reactions to it were. The trick was realizing the walls weren’t the threat. Our own minds were. They hijacked our guilt and fear loops, forcing us to relive traumatic memories over and over again. The more we fed into those emotions, the deeper we got trapped."
I blinked at him.
"So what did you do?" I asked.
George held up one finger.
"I used what we call ’cognitive reframing.’ It’s a technique where you consciously reinterpret the meaning of what you’re seeing. Instead of accepting the hallucinations as truth, I reminded myself:
These images were data points, not reality.
My mind was trying to protect me...even if it was doing it the wrong way.
And most importantly: emotions are just signals. They’re not commands."
Freckles girl whispered,
"But it felt real... the smells, the sounds..."
George nodded gently.
"Of course it did. The brain stores trauma in the same neural pathways as sensory memory. So when they hit those pathways, it feels real. But feelings aren’t facts."
"So what....you just decided not to feel scared?"
Bandana guy asked.
"I was terrified at first. My hallucination was my mother’s funeral. I could hear the priest’s voice. Smell the flowers. But every time I felt panic, I repeated to myself:
’This is a memory, not a prophecy.’
I forced myself to notice tiny details that didn’t belong. The wrong color of the priest’s robes. A digital glitch in the candle flames. The illusion started falling apart because I stopped believing it. It’s like hypnosis." He said.
Bandana guy’s eyes widened.
"So it’s about... questioning the illusion?"
George spread his hands.
If you find any errors (non-standard content, ads redirect, broken links, etc..), Please let us know so we can fix it as soon as possible.
Report