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?"

"Yeah, what a fucking dick. I don't care if you hate someone at the ranking, you don't intentionally try to hurt them." Craig huffs, focusing on his teeth.

I look back at my poignant reflection. It's not like you tried to kill me during the combat tournament or anything, but okay. My thoughts dance on the ridge of my tongue, scraping at my inner lip.

"I'm just glad the ranking is over," I ponder; the only thing escaping my throat. "It was a pain dealing with all those kids in one place. It's a hell of a lot quieter around here now." I throw my wash towel on top of my head and twirl my hair every which way. "Plus, they stuck me with all the cool kids, so I have no right to complain."

Hal rinses his the bristles of his toothbrush and softly smacks me on my right shoulder. "Man, you're a kiss-ass." He starts for the door, chuckling in his own little bubble. "Love you, man. You deserve to be here."

"Thanks, Hal." I hang my towel over the bony knots under my hairline. The Corporal departs the washroom, shooting a finger-gun at me.

Craig spits into the sink and cleanses his mouth beneath the faucet. He glances my way between sips. "Lee said we're learning tactics tomorrow. Formations, shit like that." He taps his toothbrush on the edge of the sink, drops trickling into the bowl. "And none of us even have a fucking gun yet. You know, how are we supposed to learn about warfare if we don't have any weapons?"

"Yeah, it's kind of stupid, isn't it?" My eyes follow him in the mirror as he curls around me. Something stirs inside me as that crop of wheat-like hair passes the edge of the mirror. Before he can reach the exit, I jolt my body in his direction. "Craig, wait. Can I talk to you for a second?"

He smirks with his head pressing back in intriguing confusion. His toothbrushing utensils rest on the base of the sink Hal used. "Yeah, what's up? Are you okay?"

I tug on the ends of the folded towel behind my neck. He gazes at me with a true grin, and a calmness cloaks me. "It's about us."

"Us?" Craig fluffs his hair to cover some of his forehead in a gentle manner. I know he isn't trying to tempt me, but each one of his behavioral movements draws me into him. "Look, Slater, the past is the past. I've gotten over the whole ordeal with you and Major Talbot and the combat tournament and the fight in the barracks. I'll accept you if you can forgive me for being a misunderstood prick."

"What? No, I meant, like, us. Like what happened on Friday night, Saturday morning?"

He frees a breathy laugh. "Dude, what are you talking about?"

The radiance from the lights over my head stings my face. I swallow, blinking several times. "You know, when we went out on Friday night? We were at that club, Ambiance, and we made out right next to the dance floor. Or at least, got close to. I wasn't that willing to go that far at first but," I say, out of air. His eyes crease at me, and I reel myself back. "Okay, now I know this sounds kind of bad, but-"

"Are you making this up?" Craig bites with a tilt of his head. A flash of ferocity only witnessed from before the ceremony. "You better not be making this up."

"I'm not," I vindicate, stepping away from him. "You were pretty faded that night, so I don't blame you for forgetting some of it. Somehow, you didn't pass out until you got back to my house. We made out there, too, and I wasn't so conservative that time."

Craig turns to the mirror, criticizing his appearance. I made it sound a lot worse than it really was, but there is no easy way for me to tell him any of this. Usually, when someone blacks out after heavy drinking or smoking, everything that happened to them during that time is alien. He consumed a lot on Friday night from the hand of Sergeant Lee, so if he is going to blame anyone for what occurred that night, let it be Lee. I just went along with what Craig was doing.

It felt right at the time. But standing here now, watching Craig contemplate what he missed, I am starting to think that the night I spent with him wasn't as great as I perceive.

"I'm sorry, Craig."

"You're sorry?" He deflects the second word with a blaze and a violent twist in his head. "What, you think because I'm gay, you can make up these lies to tell the rest so you can make me look like a perv? Well, if anyone is the perv, it's you, kissing boys while they're drunk so they don't remember. If that even happened."

I pull on my neck towel tight enough to burn beneath my hairline. "Look, it did happen, and I'm sorry it did. If I knew you were gone, I wouldn't have done it."

"Who else knows about this?"

"CJ and Mai were sitting next to me at the club, and they saw us together. Other than that, no one else. But they could have told anyone; I don't know if they'll keep quiet."

Craig untenses and spins to the mirror. He grips both sides of the bowl of the sink, his fingers curling under his palm. "I can't believe I trusted you."

I pace in his direction. "Me? I didn't say a word to anyone. How can you be mad at me when you were the one who wanted me to kiss you? Those guys were only witnesses." My hand rests on the drained, white wall between the mirrors as I stare at him from the side. "You really don't remember anything from that night?"

He ducks his head with his arched nose pointed to the gutter of the sink. "Man, I don't even remember going to the club. All I know is that one minute I was picking an outfit to wear, and the next I was throwing up in a bucket next to my bed. It was like I passed out."

The sweat slicking my hand lets it glide off the wall. A lump rises in my throat, torching everything that passes. "Do you remember driving to my house?"

"No," he groans, a frown trickling under his nose. "Slater, I'm scared. I don't even know if I'm angry anymore, I'm just scared."

The raven-colored lines decorating my arm simmer beneath my skin. A wave of shock courses through each vein to my hand and up to my shoulder before kicking my heart. My ribs solidify as the ripple continues up my neck and sharpens the tendons. A ringing greets my ears, along with a white flash over my vision. The roar creates a jarring within my skull before a towering voice overpowers it.

We need to talk. Right outside in the backyard. Come alone or I kill them. Do not test your luck.

"You're damn right we do," I growl, cramming my teeth together.

Craig peers up from the sink. "What?"

I march past him, eyes geared toward the door handle. "Look, I'll tell you everything later. But I have to go." I swing the door my way and stride into the hallway, ignoring the door slam behind me.