Defying Terror

Chapter LXV

September 8th, 2030, 9:32 pm

The mist between myself and the mirror diffuses into the white light of the bathroom, clouding the reflective surfaces on the wall. A film obscures my duplicate through the lens of the glass, and I streak an olive towel over the condensation to see my troubled face once again.

Swollen red hills decorate the landscape along my jaw and up to my cheekbone. Amidst these hills are tiny sprouts of charcoal hair hiding from strangers. I hope they lose their shyness and express themselves to others within the coming weeks. Or years. Anything to make myself less recognizable so that I could disappear from the world. My only hope is that I know my dad could grow the minimum definition of a beard when I was little.

There will be moments, scattered at random throughout my day, when a serrated knife will be driven into my skull to force me to remember him. The pain is the worst at night when I try to drift into unconsciousness. I would curl myself together, thinking of the times when I would await my father's return until the breaking sunlight angled itself into my room through the window in paper-thin bands. Another sleepless night.

While I appreciated the Captain's gift of my dad's dog tags, I fail to commit to carrying them around as I travel. Something like that is far too precious to lose, and with my status under the Medo's supervision, I don't trust myself in keeping them safe from anyone who may steal them. I would defend them with my life, but I would sleep better knowing they were at the Manchesters' house, draped around the outward post on the headboard of my bed.

With that, I have finally found a piece of Dad that I can have and remember him by. I would much rather have him here, but that blade in my skull twists every time I consider his homecoming. He never wished for me to be in the Imperial Guard as adamantly implicated in his final note. If he would see me now, with my own tags and refined black uniform, I think he would rather have a son in prison.

Prison over a life of dodging peril.

The door to the washroom cranes over the bright white tiles, crusted in gray cement. Craig and Hal infiltrate the fading warm mist, stepping with their toothbrushes and toothpaste toward the sinks beside me. Both are adorned in white t-shirts and navy-blue shorts; custom in Imperial Guard sleepwear. They wear light smiles under their noses.

They aren't fighting each other. They're getting along. Something isn't right.

Craig occupies the sink closest to the left wall. He glances up at the shiny, perfect mirror, then inspects the next one over, mine. Bolts hold down the mirror in front of me in the corners, and prominent smudges stain the surface. The Sergeant gives a brief laugh to himself. "Huh, this mirror looks kind of brand-new. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Slater?"

The days of the ranking, especially before Petry transferred me to Hal's group, are nothing but a haze. I can argue that it was one of the darkest periods of my late summer journey. The only person I could talk to was CJ, which is the only high point of it all. Luke Bradley and the twins would torment me until I bled inside and out. He was a ruthless enemy for sure, but in the end, I came out victorious. Someone that evil could never win.

The brawl between Luke and I in the shower room remains such a momentous incident with me. I had never gotten into a real fight before that night. Celestine had taught me how to defend myself but that was only practice. In the actual battle, I let my emotions overrule my principles, resulting in small knives of glass jutting into Luke's back. He made it seem far worse than it actually was, though I still pitied him at the moment.

I send Craig a similar grin as he squeezes mint-green toothpaste onto the bristles of the brush. "I don't know, ask Luke Bradley."

Hal leans against the edge of his sink, facing us. His mouth already foams from the scrubbing of his teeth. He pulls the brush away and spits some down the drain. "Craig, you should have seen this asshole. Total punk. You know he's the one who nearly broke Slater's wrist, right?"