Lies & Harmony Trilogy

Chapter One: One Face, Two Souls

Learning not to cry out at just a glimpse of pain is the first thing I learned. The screaming is a way to distract myself from the pain, and if I use that all up, I will have nothing to anchor me from the tidal wave of pain that will eventually overtake me with its torture.

     Brendan took me to Vainglory within a day. I sat in the back of the truck for hours, listening to the rumbling of the engine and feeling every bump of the truck. Tears streamed down my face, making wet stripes down my face before the doors finally opened, and I was pushed out to the glaring sunlight.

     I don’t remember much of the scenery, but I remember being awed and momentarily forgetting my fear. It was flashes of light and gold. Silver and glint. Before I could fully comprehend what I was seeing, something sharp was jammed into my neck, and the world grew fuzzy and dark before I could even scream.

     Now, I am here.

     Where is here, exactly? I don’t really know. It’s just four walls that I am now contained into. With every day, I feel like the world is getting smaller and smaller until all that’s left is the space between these four walls. There is nothing else beyond these walls except for death. At least, that’s what I’m beginning to believe.

     When I first woke up, I pounded against the cold steel door, screaming for release. Rush, Rush, Rush, I cried all day and night until my throat became sore and I couldn’t speak anymore. It may have been my imagination, but someone keeps laughing at me every time I pound against the doors. Sometimes it’s just one voice. Another time, it’s a plethora of voices all mixing together that grows louder within the moment. Sometimes, someone from the other side just kicks the door, letting it vibrate all the way to my side when they shout, “Shut up!”

     I’m pathetic, really, when I whimper and slump to the floor.

    Everything else was a little clearer the first few days. There was a sense of purpose so clear that I could almost feel it filling my body with adrenaline and power. Then it would ebb away slowly when the day (or night?) progressed into nothing. The same happened day after day until it was rare to feel anything at all.

     Anything besides the pain, of course.

     I knew something was important when I arrived here. I had something to do. There was something that needed fulfilling, and I needed to escape. I had searched for other exits. I had tried to break open the door and run, but nothing ever worked.

     Now I don’t even remember what I’m supposed to be doing. All I know is that there is something out there, but I can barely remember what it is.

     Something about this place is blurring my memories. Memories, memories, memories — why does that word sound familiar? Something about betrayal, lies, and omission. A place with white-washed walls, sharp needles, and cold voices.

     I can’t remember.

     And I don’t know why.

     Maybe it has something to do with the fact that someone comes to inject me with dark liquid every day. At first I fought it, but then I eventually gave up because I knew it would be worse for some reason if I kept fighting it.

     I can’t fight it.

     It’ll hurt even more.

     Sometimes, the people outside these walls think I know things. Except I don’t; I don’t remember anything besides the pounding of my head and voices that drift in and out. Then they lash out at me with all their burning hatred and anger. Sharp items are pierced into my skin — the cold blade meeting my warm flesh. It hurt more than I thought it would, and I would scream, scream, scream.