Obviously

You might not be able to feel the horror of having your mind rewritten but you can certainly still appreciate the magnitude of your loss. You needed to fix this. Somehow. It was almost worse than the fear or the pain, thinking about your wishes, your family, your life ... and feeling nothing. The more you think about it the more you are certain of your conviction. You had to fix this. You spend the next hour or so sifting through the data, trying to find an "undo" or at least hope of some kind, to no avail. You do however find out what some of the vials in your collection are capable of:

M-55: A hormone cocktail meant to form strong attachments between the subject and whomever was with them during the effects. You raise an eyebrow. It's basically a love potion. Or maybe an obedience potion? It's hard to tell from the notes. Hm ... 'tendency to make the subjects somewhat over-emotional.' Maybe I could ... no, no. That would never work." Would it?

R-15: A submission treatment designed to make the subject more compliant, though side effects ranged from "feminization" to "impaired intelligence". You stare, uncomprehending, sure you must be reading the description wrong. This one was obviously a bimbofication/slavemaker cocktail, made to convert girls into ditzy sex toys. Your lip curls in disgust, "Well, thank God I didn't prick myself with that one." You're starting to feel your captive was justified in blowing up the lab.

R-21: An evolution of the bimbo treatment, this one was made to minimize the side effects of its predecessor while maximizing the subjects submissiveness and obedience. It looks like the culmination of all the research from both R-15 and M-55, the researcher documenting it seemed very proud of the accomplishment. There was an extensive guide on how to properly administer it for the best results. "They might as well label it: How to make slaves. Who the hell was running this?" Sadly, almost a dozen people/governments with fewer morals than money immediately sprung to mind.

H-48: A "localized hormonal/nanotech rebuild" for the male genitalia. You smirk. Whoever was funding that lab must be having some difficulties in the bedroom. You quickly scroll past it.

P-34: The bigger, badder cousin of P-32 and well on its way to being an actual super-soldier serum. Instead of just boosting the adrenal glands like yours had, P-34 seemed to cause tissue density to skyrocket. Which lead to greatly increased strength and resilience at the cost of a significantly higher metabolic rate. The description noted that, while a kill-switch had been installed, P-34 subjects tended to become somewhat egomaniacal and resisted control more than previous iterations.

You stare blankly at your notes. Nothing. A wave of calm ebbs through you, all the more obvious from the lack of frustration. You hated this. Everything you'd done, all the expressions you'd made since you woke up: facades. Reflexive movements for emotions you no longer felt. You had to fix this. Somehow. A low groan sounds from under the bed. You'd almost forgotten about your captive and cringe slightly: you probably should have checked on her. It would have come naturally yesterday. Maybe she could shed some light on the situation? Hopefully she wasn't just a hired hand. She probably won't be very forthcoming if you treat her like a captive ... but she did try to kill you. "Maybe I can act sympathetic? Try to convince her I'm on her side? It's not like I have anything to offer her ... 'If you help me, I'll let you go!' Right." You sigh hopelessly. This was going to be virtually impossible. Your eyes fall on the bag of vials. "'Enhanced obedience'. Hm..."