vance

Go, go, go.

They taunt, they accuse, they whisper relentlessly in my ears when I'm at work, before I go to sleep- and even then, I see them all in my new dreams, full of colour and terrifying because of it.

You let us go, go, go. They moan like spirits in my head, wailing, filling my mind with the cacophonous complaints of the dead. Now that Project Chrysalis has begun its interweaving path into the system, I shouldn't have to worry about them anymore. Chrysalis will save me from them, from failure.

But first, I need to be cleansed.

"Thank you." With the voices still buzzing about in my head, I retract my arm from the scanning device and allow a young man to lead me into one of the medical rooms. I've been putting this off for so long that it gives me some sort of relief to be able to walk to a medic and open up to them.

At a desk and holding a black pen sits a man of about my age, a white laboratory coat wrapped around him and three blue pens sticking out of his breast pocket. "Have a seat," he says, waving me over and I do so, pulling out the stool and sitting opposite him, watching him as he fills out a form. It takes him another five minutes before he signs it and sets the piece of paper aside, then turning his attention to me with a smile. "Apologies," he begins. "That was just... for another client."

I shake my head, refuting his apology. "It's quite alright. I understand."

I receive another quick smile from him before he pulls out a notepad and puts his pen to the paper. "Tell me, then, why you came to pay me a visit. I understand it's urgent- Vance, given that I'm not your usual doctor- so tell me, why did you come to me? Surely you know that only our best and most experienced doctors take care of the high council."

My leg becomes jittery underneath his open desk, my hands fiddling with each other in my lap. "I decided I needed a more professional opinion when it comes to regular civilians."

"Are you sure? I'm afraid I won't be as goo-"

"You save people's lives, that's good enough for me." I don't hesitate in my interruption, because I need to be clean before the next council meeting, and I can't afford to be persuaded to go to my usual doctor, who would with no doubt release any diagnosis to the council for evaluation.

"I don't save people's lives," he answers flatly. "That was what the ancients did, out of sentiment. I help people recover, I help to psychologically alter bad people, and I help with both bad and good diagnoses. My job is not to save people's lives, but rather to better, shall we say, citizens with problems, in order for Tetrahmon to continue being a functional, beautiful society."

Right. Keep it together. "Of course."

Clearing his throat, he straightens the lapels of his lab coat and looks up at me again. "Now, back to the purpose of why you're here in the first place..."

"I've been having... dreams, as of late."

He stares at me blankly, as though he's forgotten what dreams are. "Dreams, you say? Would you care to elaborate? What do you see?"

I shrug. "Not much, but I hear a woman's laughter at times, and on other nights it's jagged, red mountain peaks associated with snowy ravines and f-flowered meadows. Occasionally, it's me with a woman and a girl, and we're doing something together, and it feels like they're my family, but without faces, and yet it feels so real." I have to be honest, I've decided. Now that I've blurted out what happens, I watch his pen as it skims over the pages.

Worryingly enough, he has a lot to write down on the matter.

By the end of it, he heaves a sigh and slips me a set of five pills, all triangular in shape. The only thing I can think about is how their colour complements the blue glass of the table.

"I'm afraid that you've been diagnosed with a severe illness that's causing you to have these dreams- and your family, all of that, that's gone? False memory syndrome, Vance. Get them out of your head. Fortunately," he continues, as I watch on steadily, "these pills will help you sleep by eliminating all disturbances in your cognitive processes whilst you sleep - namely, the creation of false colour, illogical, abstract scenes or patterns, and formation of false memories. Naturally, though, there may be side effects."

My eyes dart up to him from the pills, my confidence in my whole decision dropping. "What sort of side effects?"

"It varies from person to person, so I can't tell you that. If anything does happen, stay at home and wait it off- they are all guaranteed to be temporary, and they really should not last longer than a few minutes to about two hours. If any symptoms persist, however, make sure you come straight back to me- here's my card- and there we go. Make sure you take half a pill each time before you go to sleep, dissolve it in water to take it, and make sure you fall asleep within thirty minutes of consummation."

Pocketing his card and the medicine, I stand. "Thank you, doctor," I say, extending my hand.

"It's not a problem. For the time being, I'll put you down in the records as having false memory syndrome: I understand the limitations of your job which could arise if they knew."

"But you cannot lie to Malcolm," I protest, although this is what I need in order to be part of Project Chrysalis.

The steady smile is back on his face, unchanged, relaxed, laced with absolute certainty. "I won't be lying, Sir. I'll just be delaying the truth."

▿

Blue powder taints the napkin as I crack the pill in two over it, dropping one half into a glass of after and putting the other away to rest with its companions. Standing, I head from the kitchen to my bedroom and climb into bed with the glass, setting it in my lap as I settle down in the darkness, my head resting against the headboard, eyes closed. The only sound that accompanies my soft breathing is the sound of vigorous fizzing coming from the solution.

As I had driven back home from the Medical Bureau, one hand in my coat pocket, touching the pills, I  considered simply throwing them away, ridding myself of them for fear of these side effects. What if they make me go manic so I blabber out everything I know, everything I've been hiding from the state? I would never be forgiven, I'd be ruined.

I'd be ruined if the Red Hand didn't find me first to kill me.

Taking in a deep breath as I review the risks, I pick up the glass and put the rim to my mouth, tilting it so the solution reaches my lips. Finally I down it, the medicine leaving a light, bitter aftertaste within my mouth.

Go to sleep, now, I think, as I make myself comfortable, a hand underneath my pillow, covers drawn up to my chin. "Go to sleep, Vance."

When I wake up the next morning, I can't remember my name.

a/n: here's another chapter of shiver! Once again, thank you to everyone who's been supporting me!

Don't forget to vote and comment, if you liked it, I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Sarah x