Master would be mad. He would be very mad. The pills are to be taken everyday, three times. Three. Two isn’t enough. I was late. Master would be mad.

Feels like knife in throat. Master would be mad. The lights turn off. Master. Mad. It is so hard to breathe. I won’t tell him. I can’t. My poor Master. I’ll sleep. He told us to sleep. I can follow that. I’ll please him by doing that.

This is not the servant’s quarters. My hands are moving, but I’m not telling them to. I’m still sleeping in my bed. At least, I think so.
Outside. The moon lights my hands. They dig a hole in the dirt. Fingernails get dirt under them. I turn, take flowers with my hands. Yellow. Gold flowers. Put them in a hole in the dirt. I’m in the garden. I take the dirt and pat it down.
Leaves rustle. Shadows move. Crows caw.
I smile.

Servant’s quarters. Bright, morning. Get out of bed. Up. In line.
“Take the pill.”
Tastes nasty. Blink. Everything is Brighter. The pills more Blue. The sunlight more Yellow. The curtains more Purple. The beds more–
“Go weed the garden.” Look up, inhale. Master is staring down at me. Exhale. A wave of brightness runs through me. Relief. And… Happiness.
“Yes, of course! Thank you!” Master is amazing. I will please him. I run off, leaving his presence but not his wishes.
The garden is bright and full of flowers and so pretty. Other servants of Master walk by, doing their tasks. Little bits of dark dirt peek through the colorful petals. Some pink, others yellow. Light blue, as well. My eyes count the colors and… and…
A golden-yellow bunch of tulips stand, lonesome, in the corner of the flower bed. They are similar to a bouquet, just waiting for someone to pluck them from the earth. A bouquet for a friend, one to give to them, on their coffin, perhaps, or Her grave… their grave. They are so wickedly beautiful. They’re so brilliant, they burn my eyes. They demand attention. Every inch of them, from the petals to the earth-concealed roots is so dreadfully beautiful.
“What do you think you are doing...?” Someone’s mad. Look over and see one of Master’s overseers. Has eyebrows that crinkle.
“Master, I am going to weed the garden. Oh, please, let me.”
“No, what were you doing standing there, just staring at the flowers? Do you think you run the place? Get time to do whatever you want?”
“Flowers?”
“Just go!”

There is a table to the side of the servant’s quarters where all the blue pills are stored. Actually, more of a light blue, like the sky on a sunny day. It’s a wooden table. The table isn’t big but there are lots of pills, enough for lots of servants, lots of days.
Today, though, there is a more interesting bed. It isn’t blue like the pills. But it feels blue. Cold blue. I get under the covers, watching the cold, blue bed. Watch the other servants. No one gets in the blue bed. Why is that bed so cold? Listen to the servants swallow. Am I supposed to do that too? Did I forget something? I take a big gulp of air and swallow like everyone else.
That’s better.

I have to change washcloths again. This one’s soaked through. I’m sleeping. In bed. I get another cloth. There’s a lot to clean up.
I whistle as I work, cleaning the wet tile floor. A tune I can’t remember. But it’s happy, like I’m walking into the sun. It makes me think of something, someone. The face is pretty. Her. Her face is pretty. She is smiling, always smiling. Even when Master hits Her. Smiling. I keep whistling.
I wonder if I’ll be able wash this red off my hands when I’m done.

Everything feels darker today. The Blue less blue. The Yellow less yellow. The World less bright.
“Get up!” All of the servants immediately stand up. I follow them, a little late, but no one seems to notice.
“Take your pill!” The servants make a line to the pill table. I squeeze between two.
“What’s happening?” I whisper. The servant in front of me turns around and glances at me for a second. Then he looks at the beds, then the floor, then the lights, then the ceiling, then my hands. His eyes flitter around. Seeing everything and taking nothing in.
Once it’s his turn, he turns back around and swallows the pill. Looking up and turning around, his eyes gradually slow down and smile widens. Like he is experiencing euphoria. Master says, “Clean out the bathrooms.” He looks at Master and the moment he meets his gaze, his eyes completely stop moving and they just stare. Then he runs off to the bathrooms, laughing giddily.
I step up to the table and take a small blue pill, twisting it in my fingers. I pop it into my mouth. “Clean the guest hallway.” I look at Master… master, right into his face. His head remains fixed as his eyes move down to meet mine. The moment they do, his lips tighten toward one side, creating a disgusting half-smile.
Then I run off, spitting the blue pill into a potted plant.

As I run I see the room from my… dream. Yes, that’s the right word. It stands tall, beautiful artwork lining the walls, a window in the back emanating sunlight. I stop and, tenderly, step in.
A wave of memories floods over me. Steadily climbing up from my feet, up, up, up until I’m choking on memories. Blood on the floor. A wash cloth. A happy tune. I turn my head up, at the ceiling, trying to escape. Escape it all. But I see more blood. Blood splatter across the ceiling. Rewind. Splatter. Rewind. Splatter.
There is something wet and sticky on my hands. I look down and, between, my crimson fingers see the eyes of the Girl. Her dead stare as she lies in her blooming blood.
Suddenly, I’m standing up. The blood has disappeared. But the Girl hasn’t. She’s alive, standing there. It’s hard to breathe. Red, blue, and yellow… no, gold flowers cover Her dress. The memories form a lump in my throat. Eyes watching me. The window behind Her, dark. The superior Master is standing by the door. “How dare you!” Spit flies at the Girl. Then, he looks at me and mumbles something that feels irrelevant.
I look down in time to see the garden shears I’m holding disappear into the stomach of the Girl.

Water coming out of one’s eyes has a peculiar feeling to it. It hurts, sure, but stopping it isn’t right, it can’t be right. Did it… I’m on my knees, looking at the gleaming, hazy floor. A bit of water falls onto it, but I take my sleeve and wipe it up. Did I really... Wouldn’t want to make another mess.
My first thought is to throw myself out a window, but then one of the other servants would have to clean up my body. But it hurts so much. Did that really... More than my eyes, more than my body.
...happen?

Once I get to the servant’s quarters it looks empty, but the small blue pills have their own presence. Euphoria. Escape from the world, the guilt. All in a little, blue pill. How convenient.
I walk up to the table and take a pill, twisting it in my fingers. I hold it up to my face, but my eyes don’t focus on the sky blue of the pill but, instead, on the beds in the background. The ones that people sleep in every night. People who don’t have to live with guilt, but should live with… 
“Free will.” The word echoes off the cavernous room and engulfs the mansion. 

I wait until everyone is sleeping. Floorboards creak as my feet move forward. The master doesn’t worry about guarding the pills, though there are cameras. I feign walking towards the bathroom, but pause at the wooden table. Dumping the entire bowl into a bag, I keep walking, though not towards the bathroom. Resupply doesn’t happen for months and it’s impossible to get an early one. The servants will become lucid without the pills. Meaning tomorrow will be an hectic day… or dare I say, a Revolutionary one.

My feet take a detour to the garden. Dreams or an awful...? The golden flowers are still shining despite the night. I have to know. I kneel down, like I did in my first…
...nightmare?
My hands pull up the flowers. They could’ve been a bouquet. Or, maybe, they already were. I dig with my fingers, pulling out dirt and tossing it aside. Real or not? I have to know.
Something soft brushes my fingertips.
I look down. Moonlight illuminates dirtied fabric. Fabric that’s encompassed by flowers. Blood red, ocean blue, and golden-yellow flowers peek out between the bits of earth. It’s the dress. It’s Her dress.
My head turns upward and my eyes search the jewelry clinging to the night sky.

My feet are sore by the time I stop. I drop to my knees and, using my hands, hollow out a hole. Unslinging the bag, I flip it, dumping its contents. My hand slides along the ground, the dirt enveloping the blue pills. Euphoria in the ground.
Free will exhumed.