I have a beautiful angel guiding me.

She says that I am currently in a bad place.

Everything from my dress, to the food, the décor, and way of speech from those around, is disconcerting to her. But most importantly, the early and late daily sermons are rather disturbing, she says.

These thoughts crossing my head about “unity through subservience” is not something a five-year-old, she believes, should have.

My mind is hazy.

These sermons preach the benevolence of conformity.

“Only through deprivation and submission does the cretin witness the purity of servility. When all thoughts operate for the Maven does the cretin obtain freedom, yes, precious freedom, freedom from the evils of insolvency. Insolvency that will cripple and destroy the poor and desolate cretin. But, blessed are thee, miserable cretin, that the Maven has sown and through no need of their own, birthed the righteous path. The Maven blesses clarity unto thee, unshackles the constraints of woe, and delivers purity of mind and spirit through subservience. Subservience that begins with thy body. A body of unity through…”

Hmm... nothing seems different.

I am sitting here at late mass listening to Senior Mark preach about the Maven’s latest teachings. This packed basilica does not give much room to breathe. I am clustered between sets of children around my age. Although my dressing is light, the smothering heat chokes me.

My mind is hazy.

The children are set at the forefront. I can feel the intensity of somber eyes. Eyes of Seniors that line themselves behind children with rather brusque objects; on the upright, ready to penetrate any child demonstrating even a sprout of unsavory will towards the Maven’s teachings.

Some Seniors are lenient towards the younger flock. While younglings deemed “in the Maven’s good graces,” avoid it altogether.

Particular Seniors seem to enjoy the effortless way these objects are able to enter the nape of an unblemished child without so much as specks of blood being drawn.

I happen to have one of those Seniors.

The reason why I am rather livid right now.

This particular Senior has jabbed me around a total of six times this evening. His hoarse breath cascading down on me is not something I am too keen on either.

My white dressing sticks to me now.

My mind is hazy.

Patrons of this sect believe in rather malicious rites.

Deprivation of food is one of them. My stomach often hurts from lack of it.

Deprivation of sleep is another. My head often hurts from lack of it.

“All is done in faith of the righteous path, in faith of the Maven’s teachings,” Seniors say.

My angel scoffs at everything.

She preaches about reincarnation to me.

It is a construct I cannot wrap my head around. She tells me that I am her and she is I. I do not quite understand this. But if she stays with me, then I am grateful. I feel I cannot be without her.

My mind is hazy.

My angel came to me during one of Senior Mark’s sermons. As a particular Senior twisted his grotesque object into the back of my nape, her gentle voice whispered,

“Am I alive?”

I was startled at first, but her soothing voice involuntarily placed a smile on my face. Her voice would ring so loudly, I wondered why none of the others could hear. She would often point at a set of small children not that much younger than I, positioned directly under Senior Mark.

These children seem to fidget and whisper strange ideas to one another, oblivious to those around them.

A pair, a young boy with a young girl.

The boy is slender with hair and eyes so dark; they seem to swallow the light.

“A wonder he does not burst into flames considering how smoldering hot the sun’s rays always are and how pale he is,” my angel would say.

The girl, also slender, has salmon hair and coral eyes. Her complexion is rather pale as well.

“If I left her out in the sun in this desert heat, would her hair curl in on itself or immediately catch flame?” my angel would often hum to herself.

Upon hearing the names of these children, my angel realized she had reincarnated into a dystopian world. This awareness sent a foul chill throughout my body.

 My mind is hazy.

It seems the salmon-haired girl was in possession of an angel herself and is determined to curry the favor of the dark-haired boy.

Within the year, an envoy will arrive from the East to try and take the dark-haired boy away. The salmon-haired girl is attempting to latch herself to him.

“And I must do the same!” my angel shrieked with fervor.

Angel, my mind is ...