Diaries: I Am Blade

Day Fourteen.

Two weeks. That's all it's been. Just two weeks. Not even a month. Fourteen days in this hell. It feels like forty. I only know the days because I scratch them into the wall by my bedroll, one scratch a day. Just to keep time. They don't like us doing that. They do things at random to make sure we can't tell the days, like wakeup calls in the middle of the night, saying it's morning, not letting us see the sky. I put a scratch on the wall whenever I go to bed. It probably isn't night, but that doesn't matter. We're running on Spire time now.

The Spire throbs beneath my feet. It is a living organism, I have learned to accept that now, and the movement, the noise - they are its breathing. The noise has a way of working its way into your subconscious. I force myself to be constantly aware of it. That way I can never be taken unawares. It has tricked people before. Snuck into their heads and whispered. Driven them to become the weak, sheep-like creatures they are now. Driven them to submit.

Two in our section are dead. Already. One, an accident on the Spire. He was a worker, and... something went wrong. They weren't exactly specific. They didn't need to be. The other... killed when he tried to escape. I don't know where he thought he was going to go. We are weeks from land. The perfect prison. The docks are completely cut off; no-one is allowed down there except the few guards that escort new 'recruits'. And the Commandant, of course. We cannot escape via sea. So what else are we to do? The workers work or face the consequences. The guards guard... or get punished. I mostly just get punished.

But I do not fear their penalties. I will continue to fight their commands until I have no more air to give, as long as my heart continues to beat. It is not purely to appear exasperating. Simple commands, reasonable commands, I obey. But some cannot be obeyed. The chances of something happening in this place that could be classed as 'reasonable' are very slim indeed. The other guards torture, incarcerate, kill, on an order, on an officer's whim. I do not. I have not changed so much as to allow myself to become their instrument. They will not control me.

I will not let them take my will. I cannot let them take my will. But it has only been two weeks, and already their tortures are beginning to show on me. The skin on my neck is a strip of open flesh, fried and rubbed raw from the collar. My back bares the marks of their beatings. But it is not the physical pains that I fear.

Slowly, day by day, I can feel my past life being wiped away, like wind over a field of grain. My memories are... muddled. Simple recollections are now a source of frustration for me. Sometimes it is just a word. A feeling. A name. Others it is a face, or maybe a whole town, maybe even my name. And, though I know I must, the more I fight the Commandant the more of my memories I lose. How long before I lose myself altogether?

I do not know if I can continue like this, allowing my memories to be bleached away. Whether I will last longer than a winter in this place is... a source of debate. My desire is strong, my will to save Garth, knowing that in his rescue lays Lucien's damnation. But my memories... I will save Garth. But at what cost? I need to remember my life outside this hell, so that when I return to it, I can fully become myself again. I can walk Bowerstone's streets proud of whom I am. I can return to my family with no regrets. If I even remember their faces.

If I cannot be Jaina in case of rousing Lucien's suspicions, I must remain Blade. I cannot become Recruit 273. I will not. I cannot let this place take what I have left behind.


Things to Remember:

o Lucien - my quest, first and foremost, I must keep in my mind, always.

o Hammer - my friend, and close companion. She is the reason I am here, and I care for her deeply. I will not let her slip my mind.

o Bowerstone. The town I grew up in, with my sister. It has its place in my heart.

o Boy, my faithful companion. He pulled me back to life when I thought it was not worth living.

o Michael. My love, I will return to you as soon as I can.

o Rose Marie. I will see your smile again.

o My darling Mattie. I will be there for your first steps, your first words. Of that I assure you.