Eden Onpeng

The light in the gas station bathroom flickered as if controlled by the wings of a moth. The trashcan next to the toilet was overflowing with crumpled up toilet paper, with a pile of trash next to it, as if the last few patrons had given up and tossed their trash where it belonged logically (near the trash can), even though the original destination (the trash can) was no longer available.

Damian glared at himself in the mirror, which had been etched in multiple spots with things like “Jill + Bob,” “God was here,” “FUCK YOU,” and “call 725-777-7777 for coke.”

Coke did sound good. His current stash was dwindling, and it hadn’t been very long since he’d had his last bump. In fact, it was time for another one.

He pulled his wallet out of his pocket—a black bifold Calvin Klein that his mom had bought for him from Ross—and pulled out his credit card, behind which the delicate resealable plastic bag sat.

It was originally an eight-ball but was now half of that. He needed to make this last. It was going to be a long night.

His keys jingled as he withdrew his keychain from his other pocket. His mail key was too small for what he was about to do. He would need to use his house key. It was girthy enough to hold a generous bump.

His nostrils burned as he snorted up the small hill of white magic. He wasn’t sure how to describe the sensation. Fresh? No. It was sort of artificial. Maybe even medicinal, in the way it burned. It was probably cut with something like baking soda or worse.

Thankfully, the coke numbed his sense of smell, because the restroom smelled like old shit. The poor gas station attendant was the only one there, and he was stuck in the convenience store, helping customers with cash payments for gas and other stuff. Maybe the gas station attendant had given up on trying to keep the bathroom clean, and was waiting until near the end of his shift to take care of everything as much as he could.

A sense of alertness washed over Damian. Then he sobbed out loud, gripping the sides of the grimy sink in front of him.

No. The coke wasn’t helping.

Nothing could help him now.

Tonight, he was going to betray his best friends. He and Chris were going to kidnap Ken and Bryan and take them to the Aqrabi compound where everyone participated in the Ascendance ritual.

No… Chris’s voice spoke in his head. Damian had spent so much time with Chris in the last few years that his mind had created a little version of Chris to guide him even when he was away from him. Chris’s voice in his head was confident and assuring. You’re not betraying your friends, you are SAVING them. You are helping them reach their True Universe. I mean, look at Ken and look at Bryan. Do you think they’re the types of people to find Ascendance on their own?

“I guess not,” replied Damian out loud.

That’s right, said Chris’s voice. And this would bring you closer to your own True Universe.

Damian wept, this time for his True Universe, where he could have everything he wanted, at the same time. A special universe created just for each person, including himself. He wanted that so badly. He wanted to be free from the pressures of his life. His parents’ expectations. His mom’s weird possessiveness.

Behind him, the door knob shook twice, as someone attempted to enter the bathroom but could not because Damian had locked it.

It was time to go. The gas station had no clock, but Damian knew he had been in that restroom long enough.

It was time to save his friends.