Haze

1

Paradise - Cold Play

1922

"Welcome to the haze."

Perhaps it's because the world around me was filled with purple hazed shadows. Fumes that leaked up our nostrils and filled our lungs. Perhaps it was the starvation that filtered in every belly, like an endless hole in the pit of each gut. Maybe it was because we sent our children, our fathers, and mothers to a war that never ended. A war that no could remember starting. Maybe we grew bored of the streets that seemed black and white, where the sun's rays couldn't pierce through the dense purple clouds. Perhaps that is why.
Why we sunk into the depression.
Then, when the earth thundered beneath our feet, when the very ground seemed to crackle with flames and heat. The darkest of nights could not hide the golden lights that shone down as They arrived.
Some called them The Angels. Others spoke of Aliens or Demons. We whispered in hopes that we were saved.
The wars that had raged for decades, ended. The sun broke through the clouds. Food grew on fields that had been dry for years. For the first time we felt the joys of being alive.
We celebrated.
Then we were torn apart. Like turkeys being fed up for Christmas, we were docile and tame.
When the guards dragged us from the hovels we called home. When they shot the hearts of anyone who didn't listen. When they sliced crying babies necks with a line of scarlet blood to hush the frail cries.
Who could blame us for falling to our knees in the puddles of rain on that never ending night? Who could blame us for bowing to the enemy that had ripped us from the lives we always knew?
Dragged us from our families and stuffed us into crates. Shipped away to unknown places, ripped from the only life we knew.
We didn't understand any of it. How could we? All our lives we'd been lied to, deceived by half truths and stories.

I didn't have it that bad. It could have been worse for me. I was lucky. I was privileged. I was still a piece of shit, still a low life scum on the bottom of Their shoes, but I was useful. Or that is what They always tell me. Useful for now. One wrong move and I'll be killed, or sent to a new war. A war that seems worse than the hundreds that raged Before.

"Hold out your wrist." I do as I'm told. I'm behaved like that. Tamed. I follow the rules. I keep my eyes on the black shiny tiles of the floor. I never look into Their eyes. I never make a mistake. I am calm, polite, respectful. I do not talk, unless invited. I have the scars to show what happens if you behave in any other way. I watch the needle near my veins, held in a red silk glove. The contents pure, glowing, white. I call it the Haze. It snakes up the veins like ice. I feel my emotions, my running thoughts flood back inside the boxes of my brain. The key clicks in a lock and they are impossible to remember. It's a relief to not wonder how I got here, it is a puddle of calmness and it controls my racing memories,

"Ok Vessel, back to your room. Sleep, then you'll be collected for work." I realize that She is talking to me. My eyes stay focused on the tiles. You never look at Them in the eyes. I've got the running scar that itches on my ribcage to show where that gets you. I lower my neck further in an attempt to bow and she laughs, pushing me softly away from her. I hear that They are incredibly beautiful, but I have never looked up from the tiles. Well, not that I can remember.
I am treated well. Locked in my room. Four walls of silk white wallpaper, a plate full of food that matches the white room. The floors are white and so is my skin. Snow white and pale, flesh that has forgotten the sun. Even my hair long and unkempt is a harsh bleach blonde. The only colour in my life is the ripples of scars that sing purple on my body. Sometimes I stare at the older ones, pushing at memories I both wish and never want to retrieve,

"Eat." A voice rings in my bare room. I do as I'm told, eating the pale tasteless food. Everything in my world is bland and dull, and yet I am lucky. I am able to eat, to sleep, to rest. I do not fear for my life in every second. I am not in the War.

I am lucky.

I am empty.

I am tame.

I am everything they wish me to be and I will never be anything more. My past life does not matter. My future doesn't mean anything. I live to serve, and I will serve to survive,

"Sleep." I am even grateful to the unknown Being that calls commands into my room. I never have to think. The voice is my constant. Sometimes I wonder what He looks like, who He is, why He has the job of over watching me, but then I shut the thoughts away. Yet, sometimes His voice is the only thing I can remember when They give me too much Haze. His soft deep voice is the only thing that can stop my hands from shaking, just a simple word like Eat can calm the side effects of Haze.
I listen and obey the Voice. It stops me from poking at the fragments of memories that sometimes swirl on the surface of my brain.
I do not want to remember.
I do not want to see who I have become to survive this life.

"Sleep." My eyes drooped closed as I lay on the icy tiles, my back pressed against the wall for the slightest bit of warmth. My mind struggles to shut down. The thoughts a consent swirl.

I am good. I am strong. I am lucky. I will behave. I have too.
But deeper down a quiet voice calls. A lost voice. The voice of who I used to be.

You are weak!
They have tamed you!
Look at how they use you!
You have betrayed us.

It's a voice that terrifies me. A voice that speaks of the unspeakable. To break out to go back to...
Go back where?
Where is that? Where is the place my inner thoughts urge me to go?
I squeeze my eyes closed tightly. I do not want the thoughts. The Haze is meant to take away my memories. It's meant to wipe that hushed voice that whispers in my brain.
I think that is what scares me the most. I don't think the Haze is working on me anymore.

"Sleep Vessel." The voice calls out again. Soft, consent, calm. I clutch my hands tightly, digging my nails into my palms to stop my racing brain. If I don't sleep, then They will enter my cage. They will force me to sleep. I can't remember it happening, but I know it to be true. So I slam my mind shut, unclench my fists and calm my racing heart.

I will sleep. I will behave. 

I will not remember.