Masked

“Take your mask off!” 

I spun around, and to my horror, discovered that I was suddenly facing a Guard.

He was dressed in navy, top to bottom; his slitted eyes glaring at me through the eyeholes of his gas mask.

My heart leapt into my throat, and I could hear blood rushing in my ears. “What…” I stammered, even though I knew perfectly well what he had said.

“Mask.” He pointed at my face, “off.” He made a tearing gesture.

My heart was beating, positively hammering against my chest like a helpless, trapped animal. There was no one to protect me now, no one to fend me off like how Cecilia had always done. Could this…? No, I refused to think of the possibility of my secret finally being out… After all these years of hiding, today of all days… This could not be.

“Did you not hear what I said?” He repeated, a hint of menace seeping into his voice.

“Yes, yes sir.” My voice trembled. 

“Sir” was the only proper way to address a Guard, that was the first thing all of us had ever been taught.

“I told you - mask off.” 

I flinched away as he reached out and tried to tear off the straps of my mask. What hid beneath, I knew, was the secret that would one day lead to my doom.

It hadn’t always been this way. Pages of memory flashed through my mind as I stood there, the tsunami of fear and dread crashing down on me. We didn’t always have to wear masks because of the toxic fumes that threatened to encapsulate the city, but then again, a deformity of my face didn’t always mean a painful death either.

I turned to run away as he came bearing down on me, his hands outstretched like claws.

I screamed, and his face twisted with disgust and irritation-- nobody ever screamed here; nobody ever dared make such a sound that would rouse the other residents of our calm, glorious city.

Even as my legs carried me away from him, I knew it would be no good. I was helpless. How could I ever outrun a Guard with such perfect genetic modification so that he could win any race? How could I ever escape a Guard whose aim was so perfectly trained so that he never missed a single target?

Even as I ran, or rather stumbled, through the thick fog of pollutants; I knew it was no use.

And sure enough, seconds later, I felt my bloodied face pressed against the cold pavement, my mask having been torn off.

I looked up at him. “What do you want?”

I saw his eyes widen as he caught a glimpse of the long scars running down the side of my cheek: scars that were raw, bruised, and perfectly visible.

My game of hide-and-seek was over.

“You--” He pointed a shaking finger at my face and I winced involuntarily. “You -- Impurity of our kind! Traitor to our fair race! Stain of our polished reputation!”

“What have I done wrong?” I croaked. 

But even as I spoke, I knew what I had done wrong; or at least I knew what they believed I had done, what, in their perfectly geared and flawlessly sculpted minds, I was. 

Not a who, but a what.

***

The room was empty. My vision was blurred as I lay there, all energy drained, the needle still embedded in my aching flesh.

Twice a day a Guard would come to bring me food, but other than that, I was alone. I was left here, dying; left here to die. 

The room was filled with mirrors, mirrors from top to bottom, wall to wall -- Everywhere I turned I saw my scarred face, my deformed features; every inch I managed to crawl was torture. But of course, this was what they had intended all along. There was no sunlight, no fresh air, no laughter, nor any other sort of human necessity.

Didn’t I tell you, in their eyes, I was something lesser?

They told me lies of why they had made me come here. They told me stories of how they were going to collect my genetic information, encode them, and make sure “such an unfortunate mishap” never happened again in the splendor of our history. Maybe that was true, but I don’t think that was the whole story, was it?

***

The day before they promised to let me go, I saw Cecilia through my unfocussed vision.

I was in such pain that I writhed uncontrollably, twisting and squirming on the ground. And still, that needle stayed intact.

“You’ll be free tomorrow.” Her voice seemed strangely distant, ghostly even.

“Yes.” I hushed back.

“Aren’t you happy?” She looked hollow, half-translucent; as if she wasn’t really there at all.

“The thing is,” I stared into her face for the last time; her face, which with one last blink vanished from view. “I don’t think I’ll survive. They told me when I was going to be let out only until they were sure I would be dead within the next day.”

Darkness swallowed me like an insurmountable tide.