Simon Brookes was, by his own admission, a total screw-up. I know this because I was his only friend. We’d met in our sophomore year of high school, where after about twenty minutes of talking about video games he invited me to his place for two things: bad horror movies and alcohol. Before Simon, I was never much of a party person. I was pretty sheltered growing up and had always stayed away from things like that since they made me nervous. I just kept my head down and focused on school work. But, three months of hanging out in Simon’s basement was enough for him to rub off on me. Simon forced me out of my shell, for better and for worse. We spent our days drinking and talking about anything and everything. We’d do dumb things just to make the other laugh. Shoplifting, graffiti, I think we even dared each other to key a teacher’s car once. My classes became secondary, so did clubs. I would come home at later and later times. My parents said they were worried, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to stop. I felt good. I felt alive.

Things seemed to shift when senior year rolled around. Despite the partying, I managed to pull together my grades enough to scrape by. Old habits, I guess, but Simon wasn’t as put together. His grades had plummeted and he was in and out of the guidance counselor’s office seemingly every day. He didn’t seem to care though, whenever I asked he always seemed to avoid the question. “What graduation? This is it,” was his line of thought. We started drifting. Simon started getting into heavier stuff than just alcohol, and I couldn’t deal with that. He dropped out soon after, and I only found out when he texted me after a week of radio silence, saying that he “had other options in life.” I’d soon learn what he meant by “options” when his mom threw him out onto the street. Turns out she found the shoebox full of pills he’d been keeping under his bed, and she wasn’t happy about it.

So that was the last time I saw Simon, living in his car and dealing to kids at our former high school. By some miracle, I had enrolled in our local community college, where I was free to get as drunk as I wanted as long as I turned in a paper once a month. I still had no friends aside from my roommate, Chris. He was a nice enough guy, very much the honor roll and straight As type. I’d offer him drinks sometimes, and he’d refuse of course. He’d tolerate my antics as long as I kept it to myself and did my fair share of the chores. I did have a job though. Turns out working the night shift at a gas station can be very fulfilling as long as you keep an emergency stash in the supply closet for those really rough nights. Things were going pretty well for me. I had just about everything I needed. But, then I got bored.

When I say bored, I mean really bored. Have you ever been so lethargic that you spend an entire day staring at your ceiling? That’s what my life started to resemble. Work, sleep, rinse, repeat became my eternal routine. I found myself zoning out looking at old pictures from high school, wanting to go back and do it all over again, but different this time. I was wondering why I made the decisions I did, and regretting the ones I made. For the first time in years, I was thinking about my place in life and what I wanted to do with it. I was spiraling fast, trying to look for an escape from the hole I dug for myself when I was sixteen. My drinking became worse, and my roommate could tell. I was a wreck, unable to function. Chris tried to help where he could and found some flyers for me. Career fairs, networking opportunities, the works. I don’t think he really meant it though, the guy was just taking pity on me. I was looking at other universities, job listings, applying to everything I could with what I had. At the end of the day though, I’d find myself at the bottom of a bottle, wishing for a way to crawl out.  I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I needed an out. I needed a fix. That was when I got the text.

It was Simon, reaching out after all this time. Apparently, he was going through a similar dilemma to what I had. He said that he was wrong to push me away like he did and that he wanted to meet up again. Now, at this point it had been well over a year since we had last spoken. There wasn’t any argument, no dramatic end-of-friendship fight, just an unspoken feeling of dissonance between us. I hesitated, unsure of whether he’d really changed or not. What if he was even worse than before? But then I started scrolling through old pictures from high school again, and nostalgia won out. Maybe this was the start of something new. I wish it was.

Simon agreed to meet me the following afternoon. I was a mess of nerves the whole morning. But, when I pulled up to the address, my heart sank a little. Unlike me, Simon had made enough money to rent his own place without paying college tuition for one. I didn’t really want to know how he’d done that on his own. From the looks of it, it wasn’t a very nice one. I parallel parked on the street in front of his apartment. It was a small building, probably an AirBNB at one point. The first thing I saw was his yard, a forest of weeds and untamed wildflowers that spilled out onto the sidewalk as well as the path up to his door. The building itself was in a similar state: the house had a sagging roof, the shingles dipping in on the middle and a few had fallen off and shattered on the concrete below. The paint on the wooden boards was faded and peeling. He had a screen door that led to a porch, but that screen was also torn and effectively useless.

“Hey man!” I was snapped from my thoughts when I heard a loud and high pitched yell from inside the house. Simon’s presence quickly made my nervous feelings disappear. He was hanging on to the door itself as it swung outwards over his broken-in front porch steps. “Get over here, it’s been forever!”

“Hey Simon, long time no see.” I walked up and he quickly gave me a hug. I could see him more clearly now that I was up close. His facial hair was unkempt, he had gained some weight, and his shirt was stained, but it was still Simon. At some point, it looked like he’d broken his nose, probably in a fight somewhere, that seemed like something he’d do. I could also tell his hair was starting to recede, but under all of that he seemed like the same dumb kid I sat next to in 10th grade all those years ago.

“Alright, get in here man, let me show you around.” Simon threw an arm around my shoulders and led me inside. Stepping into the house, I noticed one thing immediately: the smell. The room was small, to the left of me was a small kitchen and to the right a living room, all lit by bare, dim LED bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The lighting was enough to illuminate the trash littered across the counters and the floor. There was a dirty couch sitting behind a coffee table covered with used dishes. Simon quickly jogged over and sprawled onto the couch, looking happy as can be. I looked into the kitchen, and was met with a swarm of flies and food that had long expired. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the dark spots on the walls were water damage or maybe black mold. Simon seemed entirely okay living in a house that was rotting all around him. 

“If he’s happy…” I thought to myself. Simon patted a spot next to him on the couch and I sat down with him. “So, what died in here?”

Simon did laugh at that, and I felt this wave of relief wash over me. Some part of me worried things would still be distant between us upon meeting like this, but they seemed to be going well so far. “Yeah,” he said, “I know it’s a bit of a mess, but it’s the only place I could afford. It beats living in my van any day.” He kicked his feet up on the coffee table and had his hands behind his head in a mock display of comfort. I sat next to him, thinking of something to say. In the end though, I skipped the small talk and went right for the question that had been bugging me since the previous night.

“Simon, I like the idea of picking up where we left off, but I have to ask. Why’d you wait so long? Why reach out now?”

“Well, I was getting to that. Stay right here.” He suddenly sprang to his feet and began walking to the other side of the room, opening a closet next to the kitchen. I saw him stand in the doorway and move a wall panel to one side. “So this is going to sound a little weird, but I had this experience a few days ago and I knew I just had to share it with somebody. That somebody was you.” I saw Simon rummage around back there, nearly disappearing from my sight. How far back did that go, I wondered. When he was done, he replaced the panel and I saw him carrying a plastic ziplock bag full of something pink. I didn’t like where this was going.

“I’ve been around the block now,” he started, “and I heard this rumor of a new drug that’s been going around. Life changing, they called it. Well, one of the dealers got a hold of the stuff, and one thing led to another, here we are.”

If he was just offering weed, I might’ve been okay with it. We could’ve sat around, gotten high, caught up on what the other was doing, and gone our separate ways. Maybe we could’ve gotten out of the house and done something fun. But that wasn’t what was in that bag. Simon tossed the bag onto the counter so I could get a better look at the contents. The bag was labeled “P” with a black sharpie. Inside were maybe two dozen small, pink pills about the size of a DayQuil.

Alarm bells rang inside my head, “Simon, what the hell is this stuff?” I looked up to see him standing there with an annoying smirk on his face. 

“It’s out of this world is what it is, assuming the rumors are true.”

“That doesn’t mean anything, can you just tell me instead of dancing around it?” Simon walked back around the table and crashed onto the couch again. He seemed so giddy, grinning like an idiot, but he wouldn’t get to the point.

“What would you do if you could read minds?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“What would you do,” he held up the baggie and shook in front of my face for a moment, “if you could take a pill and read someone’s mind?”

“If you want me to get high with you off of some mystery pill, I can just leave.” I stood up and headed for the door, but Simon grabbed onto my wrist.

“Wait! No, I’m sorry, don’t leave.” Against my better judgement, I sat back down onto the couch to hear him out. “Look man, I’m sorry. I just thought, since this is our first time hanging out in a long time, we could just pick up where we left off, having fun.”

“Yeah, Simon, but that was just booze. I think we did pot once, if ever. Do you even know what that stuff is? Is it even safe? What is it?”

“Psychopomp.”

“Huh?”

“Psychopomp, that’s what it’s called. I got it from a guy a few days ago, a real nice guy, trustworthy. He says it’s some new psychedelic from Europe. As for what’s in it, or who makes it, he wouldn’t say. Total unknown, he said. He just gave me a name and assured me it was as safe as any edible.”

“Yeah, that sounds really trustworthy.”

“Dude, I’m telling you, this stuff is great! I tried it once, and I just knew I had to share it with somebody. I’ve already tried it once, it’s totally safe. Even if you have a bad trip, we can just call somebody.” He held up his phone for emphasis, as if that meant anything. He never was the brightest.

This was a dumb idea. Everything Simon just said was stupid, and I was stupid for sitting there and listening to him talk about his stupid plan. But I caved. I thought about my last few weeks. I was stuck in that same routine, day in and day out, shackled to it. I would’ve given anything for a change. Wasn’t I looking for an escape, anyway? Simon was my last remaining tether to a simpler time in my life. Before community college, before my dead end job behind a cash register, everything. He wouldn’t lie to me, would he? If he was still my friend, surely he wouldn’t give me anything he thought was dangerous, right?  Was I making up excuses for him? Maybe, but I didn’t care. I just wanted my friend back, and if taking a pill and tripping out for a few hours was the key to having him in my life again, why shouldn’t I take it?

“Fine. You win. But afterwards, we’re getting food, and you’re buying.”
Simon was grinning like an idiot again, “Deal!”

We sat down and he opened the bag, pouring two pills into his palm before handing one to me. I stared at the pill, holding it up to the light. It was pink in color, but I could just barely see the contents through the shell. It was a shimmering, swirling liquid, like if you mixed glitter and ink. I wasn’t an avid user of psychedelics, but I had never seen nor heard of something like this before.

“So do we take it with water or food or-” I looked over to see Simon in the middle of popping it into his mouth and dry swallowing.

“What was that?”

“Nevermind,” I sighed before doing the same thing. “So how long does it take to set in?”

“Depends on the person, I think. By the time it kicked in for me I had already lost track.”

“Great.” We sat around on that couch, just talking, waiting for the drug to do its thing, whatever that thing was. We talked for a long time. He told me how he got back on his feet after a brief stint in jail a few months after being kicked out. His mom bailed him out, thankfully. I told him about the wonders of working at the local 7-Eleven and my weird customer stories. It was good, catching up with someone I hadn’t seen in so long. For a fleeting moment, I felt normal again. By the time we looked at the clock, it had been a solid hour with no effects whatsoever, none that we could tell at least.

“Want to get food?” Simon pointed at the door.

“Yeah, sure.”

With that, we found ourselves driving down the street to a McDonalds on the corner. We walked inside and it wasn’t very busy. Simon volunteered to order first. I stood behind him, just staring into space. That’s when my eyes landed on the girl working the cash register.

“SHE THINKS YOUR FRIEND IS A SLOB.”

“Oh God!” I shouted, clutching my head. It was a horrible, piercing voice like shattered glass that rang out inside my skull. Simon turned around, more amused than anything.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied through my teeth. I was shaken, utterly confused as to what I just heard. It sounded like three or four voices all layered on top of each other. I looked around. Why was nobody else reacting? Didn’t they hear it too?

“Hey man, are you going to order or not?” Simon put his hand on my shoulder, his face showing that damn smile again.

I went up to order, and the voices came back again. “THE FRY COOK IS TAKING A SMOKE BREAK.” I clutched my head again. It wasn’t painful as much as it was startling,

“Sir, do you need help?” The poor girl working the register said.

“SHE’S BEING GENUINE.” The voices rasped. 

“I’m fine.” I said through gritted teeth. I ordered without issue, ignoring the glare of the other customers behind us, and sat down in a booth with Simon.

“What the hell was that?” I was livid.

“I tried to tell you, man. This stuff is next level.”
“You didn’t really say anything. You said something about reading minds and nothing else. You never mentioned-”

“The voice?”

I closed my eyes for a moment and answered, “yes, the voice. What even is it?”

I could see the gears in Simon’s head turning, trying to think of an answer. “The truth is I’m not really sure. All I know is that once you take the pill, you can hear it. The dealer guy tried to explain it to me. The way he described it was like flipping through radio stations. Sometimes you hear something interesting, sometimes it’s just noise. Take the pill and you hear the voice. Simple.”

“That’s insane. How is this even possible? Magic?”
“Beats me, I’m no scientist. The dealer said it ‘opens the doors of perception’ or something like that.”

I sat in stunned silence, taking it in. I could already hear the voice whispering in my head. It felt violating, like something had burrowed its way into my brain. At the same time, I couldn’t help but think of the possibilities. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that this was exactly what I needed. I could use this. These Psychopomp pills could be my ticket out of this life. Then, I had a different thought.

“Okay, so you take the pill and hear things. I’m going to gloss over that for now. How do you know if it’s lying?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,  how reliable is it? What if the ‘voice’ is just random noise or the info is fau-”

“THERE’S A MAN WITH A GUN.”

My stomach dropped. Simon must’ve noticed my expression change. “Oh, what’d you pick up?”

“HE WILL ENTER THE STORE IN TWENTY MINUTES. HE INTENDS TO ROB THE REGISTER.”

“I think this place is about to get robbed.” I looked outside the windows. 

“Oh, that’s not good.” I turned to see Simon with his feet up on the table, hands behind his head.

“What do you mean ‘not good’? Did you hear what I just said?”

“Well, if you know the future, can’t you change it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Duh, just stop the robbery.”

“How do you expect me to stop a robbery?” I was getting angry at how nonchalant he was about this. I looked to my right, and saw an old couple across from us, staring in our direction, having overheard us no doubt.

“THEIR NAMES ARE LINDA AND MIKE.”

I shook the thoughts from my head, and looked at Simon, who was waving his phone in front of his face.

Fifteen minutes and one anonymous tip to the police later, we were sitting in a dollar tree, peeking through the windows at the McDonalds across the street. The employees didn’t bother to stop us from our loitering.

“I just want to see if it comes true. We should know how accurate it really is.” I told Simon, who was adamant this was a waste of time.

“Look man, I don’t know why you can’t just take my word on this. Isn’t psychic powers enough? Why does it matter if it’s accurate or not?”

“Just let me have this, okay?” I was staring at the time on my phone, counting the seconds in my head. “Should be soon.”

Simon went quiet for a minute, and I could see him looking at me out of the corner of my eye. “So, hey, can I talk to you for a second? It’s something serious.”

“HE’S ABOUT TO ASK FOR MONEY.”

“You want money?”

Simon knew that I knew he was going to ask, but pressed on regardless.

“Look, I haven’t been perfectly honest with you. My landlord has been getting on my case lately about payment, and he’s already let me skip the last two months, so I was wondering if you could spot me a little cash?”

“THIS IS WHY HE TEXTED YOU.”

“Wait, so this is why you reached out to me? What about the ‘wanting to reconnect’ thing?”

“Well, I still want that. Come on man, you can’t just-”

“No, no you don’t get to ‘come on man’ your way out of this. You really lied to me, didn’t you? You just wanted my money this whole time? I thought we were friends!”

“Of course we still are! I just need a bit of money! That’s all!”

“How much are we talking about?”

“Uh, 300?”

“HE’S LYING.”

“Tell me, Simon.”

“Okay fine, 500 dollars. I’m sorry David, I didn’t think this would go this way.”

“You thought I’d be okay as a human door mat?”
“That’s not what I-”

Our conversation was interrupted by the sound of gunshots across the street. We both turned around to see the chaos across the street. Two cop cars had pulled up while we weren’t looking. We looked just in time to see a man running out of the restaurant, dressed in a dark hoodie with a bandana covering his face. Two cops were standing outside. There was the sound of a gunshot, and the man fell onto the concrete parking lot. He lied motionless as the cops descended on him. It was then, as I watched with a sense of dread, that I could hear the voice again. “LINDA AND MIKE DID NOT SURVIVE.”

Me and Simon didn’t say a word on the walk back to his house. When we got there, I pointed out a red paper pinned to Simon’s door. The moment he saw it, he flew into a storm of profanities I won’t repeat here. He ran up the rickety stairs to his door, tore off the paper and ran inside. I didn’t have any time to move before he came right back out and threw the bag of pink pills towards me. I caught it on instinct, and Simon came back up to me.

“Look, you take the pills, and I get the money. You don’t have to talk to me again if you don’t want to. For the record, I said I’m sorry. Deal?”

“HE IS NOT SORRY.”

“Fine. I don’t care.”

After a year without contact, I had somehow regained and lost Simon’s friendship in less than 24 hours. The car ride back home wasn’t pleasant. I couldn’t think straight.  My head was a mix of anger and confusion. I didn’t want to dwell on it. I just wanted to get home and go to sleep, restart the day and try all over again. Of course, I couldn’t do that for long. I had a shift in three hours. A long, boring night of listening to customers and their problems. That was when I looked into the passenger seat of my car, and the answer to my problems was staring right back at me. If I was going to have to endure another shift in purgatory, I was doing it on MY terms.

I pulled into the 7-Eleven parking lot later that night, late for my shift as usual. I stared at the swirling pink pill between my fingertips, holding it up to the light. For a reason I couldn’t explain, I just sat there, watching it. The sparkling liquid within the capsule seemed hypnotic. It’s like it was calling out to me. I didn’t think twice about it. I’d have taken anything to make this shift less of a chore.

I walked inside the store, and the drug immediately started to tell me things.

“THE FREEZER IS 2 DEGREES LESS THAN IT SHOULD BE.”
“THERE ARE FIVE PATRONS IN THE STORE, INCLUDING THE ONE IN THE BATHROOM.”

“A MAN WILL VOMIT IN THE FAR RIGHT CORNER 2 HOURS AND 17 MINUTES FROM NOW.”

“THE CLERK IS JUDGING YOU.” 

I turned around to see the bored cashier quickly drop his gaze and return to the book he had in his hands. I walked right up to the counter. “Any problems, tonight?”

“You’re late David, I should’ve been off the clock ten minutes ago.” The guy was maybe seventeen. He looked dead tired as he muttered, “This is the third time this month.”

“Could be worse,” I said, “I could’ve not come in at all.”

“HE DID NOT FIND THE STATEMENT FUNNY.”

“Uh huh,” he looked back down at his book, “can you clock in please?” I went to the employee break room in the back of the store, clocked in, and came back out. The kid already had his bag, ready to leave.

“HIS BOOK HAS A SAD ENDING.”

“Hey, you’re reading ‘Ash Haven Diaries’ right?”

He perked up a little, “Oh yeah! Have you read it before?”

“Yeah, the love interest dies at the end.”

His face was priceless. He stormed out, and I was laughing to myself for longer than I’d like to admit. I didn’t know why I did that, it just felt good. I felt good for once.

The next week was the most entertaining my job had ever been. Every night, I’d pop a pill and watch as the world became my own personal TV show. People would walk inside and my brain became flooded with all this information I never would’ve guessed. A group of football kids came in one night, celebrating the big game, and it turns out one of them had deflated the ball beforehand. There were far more cheating partners than I expected, and on occasion I’d write a message on their checkout receipt telling them. Multiple drunken morons would come in spewing nonsense, and I had to use the pill’s voice to decipher what they were trying to tell me. There were of course the less interesting bits: report cards, deadlines, song jingles, I even picked up on a guy’s social security number. Half my nights were already predicted for me just by stepping through the door, and I’d plan ahead for whatever I didn’t feel like dealing with. Coupled with the travel sized shots I was able to sneak into the back closet, my shift had never been better.

Four hours into my shift at the end of that week, I heard the bell ring indicating that someone walked inside the store. I looked up from the magazine I’d been idly reading to see my manager of all people. What was he doing here so late, I thought. I knew why before he even reached the counter.

“Hey David, we need to talk, you and me.” Even without the Psychopomp, I probably could’ve guessed why my boss was here tonight. My boss was a nice guy, he’d never treated me badly before and he’d let me get away with a few things in the past. But apparently, even he had a limit.

“Hi Carl, it’s going well. You’re about to fire me aren’t you?”

Carl let out a long sigh, placing both his palms on the counter and looking me dead in the eye. He wasn’t trying to be intimidating, I don’t think he’s capable of being intimidating. He was just trying to put his foot down. “David, I have to let you go. You’ve shown up late three times this month and according to the security cameras, and your coworkers, you’ve been getting drunk while on the clock. You aren’t even hiding it from the customers. I just can’t have that kind of employee working here.”

Everything he said was true. I could see where he was coming from. I might have even done the same thing in his shoes. But at the same time, I still needed a job. I didn’t really enjoy it, but it was the only place close to campus that would hire me. Then, I got an idea. It was a horrible idea, something that would’ve appalled me under any other circumstance. But at the moment, it just felt right. I listened to the pill’s voice again. It told me a lot about Carl. His home address, the fuel level in his car, what cologne he wore, all sorts of things. Then it told me something interesting. Really interesting. Something I could use.

“Hey Carl, I’ve been meaning to ask you, who’s Sherry?” 

Carl’s eyes widened and he took his hands off the counter. “Who are you talking about?”

“HE’S AFRAID.”

I leaned against the counter, getting my face closer to his. “We both know who I’m talking about. Does your wife?”

You should’ve seen the look on his face. He went pale, and his body tensed up. There was a part of me deep down that recognized what I was doing, how wrong it was. It was crying out for me to stop. But at the same time, there was another part of me, one that I didn’t know I had, that pressed me to keep going. I kept going.

“I want to keep working here. I want to do whatever I want, whenever I want, and I want a raise too. In return, I won’t tell Debbie about your affair.”

“How did you know my wife’s name?”

“I know a lot of things, Carl.”

“Fine, just please, don’t tell her. I’ll even break it off with Sherry tonight, just don’t tell my wife, please!” His voice was shaky, and he waddled away, right back out the door he came. I sat back down in my chair, contemplating what I’d just done. I had never blackmailed someone before. Still, it did mean I got to keep my job, with some nice benefits. Although, I got to thinking again, why should I settle for the night shift at a gas station? Surely, there were far better ways for me to make money now. I could feel the bag of pink pills in my pocket. The feeling that they were there had become comforting when on the clock. I knew I could use them for something, I just needed to figure out what to use them for.

“ANOTHER CUSTOMER HAS ENTERED THE STORE.”

I looked up from my thoughts to see another patron walk in. He came right up to the counter, an older man who smelled of cigarette smoke and motor oil. He spoke with a rasp, “Three scratch-offs please, and a pack of Morleys.” I idly reached for where we keep the scratch-off tickets and then I realized what I was looking at. Lottery tickets. With the pills, I could easily win the lottery, couldn’t I? I’d just have to find the right ticket. But how would I do that? The chances of finding that were one in a million, and there was no way I was going to go look for it myself. I didn’t have that kind of time on my hands. “Hello, sir?”

“Uh huh,” I wasn’t paying attention as I rang him up. I was still trying to figure out the fastest way to get more money. Then, the voice came back.

“HE’S A GAMBLER.”

I looked up, and started analyzing the man in front of me. He was an older man, wearing cargo shorts, an oversized polo shirt, and he had a salt and pepper mustache that reeked of cigarettes. He also spoke in the heaviest southern accent I’d ever heard. But, what caught my attention was the shiny gold watch on his wrist. “Hey, where’d you get that watch?”

“Oh, this?” His eyes lit up, as if he’d waited his whole life to show it off. “Why, I just so happen to be the reigning state champion player of blackjack. I’d tell you my secrets, but I wouldn’t want any competition, now would I?”

“Too bad.” I climbed over the counter and onto the other side, heading towards the door. The fat man with the watch seemed bewildered, shouting after me, “Where are you going? I haven’t even paid yet!”

“THE NEAREST CASINO IS 24.57 MILES AWAY.”

“Don’t care!” I shouted as I reached the door. I walked right out of the building. After all, it wasn’t like I was going to lose my job over this. 

I popped another pill on the way over. My brain buzzed with information, so many thoughts on one highway interstate, and I loved it all. It took me 45 minutes to reach the place. The Sapphire Siren Casino, a giant towering eyesore on the landscape, taking up an embarrassingly large section of the mall it was held in. I’d see ads for it posted around the gas station every now and then. Normally I avoided these places, aware that the risk was far too great for me to gamble my already meager savings away. Not today though, today I was feeling lucky.

I stepped inside and got a lay of the land. Even without the pills, the entire building seemed designed for sensory overload. Bright blinking lights, loud jingles from every machine and speaker, and a constantly shifting crowd of people looking to risk it all. Walking onto the floor was like wading into a crowded wave pool, only this pool intended to steal my money. It wasn’t my usual scene, but for the next four and a half hours it would be. 

I wasn’t stupid. If I won every game right off the bat then I’d probably get accused of cheating. Of course I would be cheating, but I didn’t want to attract that kind of attention. So, my plan was to lose just enough to avoid suspicion. Even then, the pills would let me know if anyone was catching on. It was really funny to walk into games, dressed in my gas station work uniform, and see all the other players dressed in fancy suits and dresses completely dumbfounded  as to how I kept winning, over and over again. I played just about everything I could, and the voice let me in on everybody’s secrets.

“HE’S GOING TO PLAY A THREE, A JACK, AND A QUEEN.”

“HE’S BETTING 500 ON BLACK NEXT TURN.”

“SHE WILL RECEIVE A ROYAL FLUSH IN 2 TURNS.”

“EVERYONE AT THIS TABLE DESPISES YOU.”

I made a lot of enemies, and had to pop a lot of Psychopomp in the bathroom, but by the end of the night, it was midnight, and my wallet was 5,000 dollars fatter. I was practically cackling as I left that god awful building behind. The parking lot was still full at this time of night. I felt immortal as I made my way out to my car. My mind was brimming with ideas for how to spend it. The pill had slipped me the prices of some of the more expensive suits worn by the casino goers. Maybe I’d go shopping this weekend. Not like I had a job to deal with anymore. I’d never have to get a job again, after all. Then, I heard something.

“Excuse me, sir?” I heard someone from my right. There was an old man hobbling his way towards me through the rows of cars. He was unkempt, his hair gray and withered, with a bushy beard that hadn’t been cut in months, maybe years. He was wearing an old army jacket and had a metal prosthetic leg that clanked as it hit the pavement. The man asked me in a tired voice, “Could you spare any cash, please?” 

It took me a minute to come to a decision. I’m not a saint. In my lifetime, I’ve never had a lot of cash to spend and because of that I’ve never been a very generous person. The most charity work I’d ever done was some high school volunteer jobs I did for extra credit. But now, I might be able to change that. I reached into the bag I had on me, suddenly thankful I had asked the cashier to give out some of my winnings in cash. “Here, keep it.” I said to the man, giving him a wad of 100 dollar bills. He stared at the money in his now trembling hands. I could see tears welling up in his eyes. I don’t think he ever expected his plea to work like this.

“Thank you sir,” he whispered, and just like that he was off. I watched him disappear into the parking lot again, cash in hand. With that, I began to reflect on the past week I’d been taking Psychopomp. In that time, I had only used it to go on power trips and hurt others. I had ruined relationships, burned bridges, and I had just cheated my way into thousands of dollars. I had only ever thought of what the pills could do for me. I had never considered using them to help people. Maybe this was the way out I had been looking for. This could be my purpose, I thought. I could finally do something with my life, something that mattered, something that didn’t hurt anybody. I felt like crying. The pills really were my ticket to a better life, after all. I rushed to my car and drove home.

By the time I got back to my apartment, I was utterly exhausted. The pill’s effects had started to wear off, and the lack of anything in my head seemed deafening and wrong.  The world seemed to contract in on itself, and I was hit with this wave of tiredness I can only compare to a bad hangover. I pushed open my door to see my roommate, quietly reading a book at his desk. He looked up when he heard me walk in. Chris always seemed happy to see me, but I still didn’t want to see him. I couldn’t help but feel him judging me from behind that smile. 

“I scammed a casino into giving me money using magic pills that tell the future.” I slurred my words and dragged my feet towards my bed. I didn’t care to explain myself, my only coherent thought left was sleep. The second my head hit the pillow, I was out like a light. The last thing I heard before blissful sleep was Chris’s confused follow-up questions.

My dreams that night were strange. I was never one of those people who could remember their dreams all that well. I suppose I could blame the booze for that, but I never had a creative imagination to begin with. That night was different. In the dream, I was falling. I was falling backwards into this dark void, and there were these whispers. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, and in the dream, and to me it didn’t matter what they were saying. As I fell, I could see this pink light become brighter and brighter. I remember turning over as I fell, and there was this ocean of pink, swirling liquid beneath me. The voices became louder and louder, telling me to do things. I couldn’t understand them though, they were too numerous and too loud to make anything out, and they were only getting louder as I fell. I remember feeling, and knowing, that the minute I hit that magenta ocean I would drown in it, and that’s what happened. I hit the sea and every sense I had became overwhelmed. The voices were now horrible, inhuman screams shouting conflicting commands and threats. The liquid itself was hot and sticky, like an ocean of melted gum. I couldn’t keep above water, and when I finally started to scream, my throat was filled with the swirling, glowing pink. I thought I was going to die. Just when I couldn’t breathe anymore, I was ripped back to consciousness. 

I awoke in a cold sweat. Every muscle in my body was pained and soaked. My head was pounding, and my tongue felt numb. It took me a minute to figure out why I was awake at all. My phone was buzzing. I looked at my window, and realized it was still dark out, no sign of sunlight. With a shaking hand, I reached out to grab my phone to see who was calling me. I noticed two things on the screen: the time 8:05 PM, and the name Simon. I immediately sat up, bewildered. It was 8:05 PM, but I had fallen asleep at midnight. Had I really slept an entire day away? That couldn’t be, but checking the date I could see it was true. Was this the pills? I didn’t have time to think any further, answering Simon’s call, making a note to block him later. Maybe he was going to ask for more money.

“Hello?” The first thing I heard on the other end of the line was sobbing. That woke me up a little. I felt myself become tense, “Simon?”

“They wouldn’t leave me alone, David…they wouldn’t leave me alone…” I had never heard Simon cry before. This wasn’t like him at all. What happened to him?

“Simon, what’s going on?”

“They wanted the money, David, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough. And, they wouldn’t leave me alone.” Simon sounded manic, terrified. I couldn’t think straight, I had just woken up. Apparently, I had fallen asleep in my clothes. I quickly patted my pockets to feel for the bag of Psychopomp. Somehow, I only had two pills left. How had I gone through them so quickly? I quickly took one, and I felt much better. The voice returned, but I wasn’t prepared for what it would tell me.

“SIMON IS HOLDING A KNIFE.”

“Simon, what did you do?”

“I had to do it, David. I had to. They wouldn’t leave me alone. They wouldn’t leave me alone.” Over the phone line, I heard the sound of sirens. But, before I could get any more information, he hung up, the last thing I heard being his strangled sobs behind the screen.

I immediately staggered out of bed and headed for the door. As I did, Chris walked inside, and I had to barge past him. “Hey, what’s going on?”  He sounded concerned, but I didn’t care to give him a straight answer, I just told him I was going out. I ran down the steps of my building and out to my car, throwing open the door and starting the engine.

“THE POLICE HAVE ALREADY ARRIVED AT HIS RESIDENCE.”

“No!” I hit the gas and my car came screeching out of the parking lot and onto the road as fast as it could go. I was sweating profusely, my head pounding as it was filled with all this useless information I didn’t want or need. Thinking at all started to become difficult as my brain was set on fire. My anxiety spiked even more whenever I got something related to Simon.

“THE LIGHT WILL TURN GREEN IN 4.2 SECONDS.”

“THE CAR IN FRONT OF YOU WAS PURCHASED IN 2017.”

“SIMON WON’T BE ACQUITTED.”

“THERE ARE NO TRAFFIC CAMS FOR ANOTHER MILE.”

It nearly became too much for me to handle. “Shut up! Just shut up!” I began to realize how crazy I would’ve looked to anyone else. Even I thought I sounded crazy, talking to voices in my own head. They couldn’t hear me, they couldn’t respond, but I needed them. I needed to hear them. They were just too loud. When had they gotten so loud?

I pulled up to Simon’s house to find an active crime scene. A crowd had formed on the street in front of Simon’s decaying house. There were about five police cruisers with their lights on, sending blue and red lights in all directions up and down the street. I could see the yellow tape they had set up on the porch. Police were moving in and out of the house, and I saw two enter with a bodybag. I didn’t want to be here longer than I had to. I wanted answers, and despite Simon’s lies, I had to know if he was okay.

Walking through the crowd, I got plenty of bewildered stares. I must’ve looked like a zombie in that state, and I felt like one too. My body wouldn’t stop sweating, and every muscle felt overworked and raw. The constant lights and sounds felt overwhelming. I wanted to vomit, but I had to suck it up and keep moving. As I did, I heard rumors from the crowd, both in my head and in the real world. I could hardly tell the difference at the time.

“I HEARD HE WENT CRAZY.”

“THERE WAS A ROBBERY GONE WRONG.”

“IT WAS SOME KIND OF GANG INITIATION.”

It was all conflicting nonsense and I kept trying to tune it out, but how do you tune out your own brain? By the time I reached the front of the crowd, I felt sick. Behind the barrier, there was a police officer holding a microphone, shouting at the crowd to return to their homes. I wasn’t going to listen. I needed answers. I had to yell to be heard over all the noise, “Hey! Excuse me! I knew the guy who lived here! Can you tell me what happened?”

The officer was agitated, giving me a look and statement that he’d probably given at least ten times that night, “I’m not at liberty to discuss the details of this case, clear the scene and return to your homes.” His face seemed to shift when he actually focused on me. Did I really look that bad? He tried turning away, but I wasn’t going to let him.

“Please! His name was Simon Brookes, he was my best friend for years, I just want to know if he’s okay!” The cop looked me over one more time, and I could see the gears turning in his head. He spoke into his radio while eyeing me down, and a minute later another cop came walking over, an older man than the first. The first cop spoke something to the new one that I couldn’t hear, and the older one gestured for me to walk with him. I followed, and the man led me away from the crowd so I could walk around the barrier without being easily noticed. He went straight to business, but in a more considerate tone than the first cop had.

“Okay son, I can only tell you what we know, but you’re going to have to cooperate, okay?” He sounded like he cared. The pill said he was just doing his job. I didn’t care either way. “What do you know about Mr. Brookes?”

I wasn’t sure how much I should tell him. I had to say something quick, otherwise he’d get suspicious. So, I went with the truth, or at least half the truth. “About a week ago, Simon told me he got into this new kind of psychedelic he found. That was the last time I talked to him.” I didn’t want to mention the phone call, not yet at least.

“I see,” the cop was now writing down my statement in a notepad, “well is there anything else he told you before you parted ways?”

“Umm,” I tried to come up with anything useful that wouldn’t also incriminate me, “well he said he was struggling to make rent.”

“Ah, there it is,” The cop put away his notepad and faced me again, “your friend had an altercation with his landlord tonight. The neighbors called the police when they heard them arguing from inside the house.”

I didn’t like where the conversation was going, but my eyes had drifted to something else. Two officers were carrying something out of the house. It was the body bag from before. Time seemed to slow as I looked at it, because I knew what was inside that bag. I nearly screamed when the voice of the pill began to speak again. 

“HE WILL HAVE A CLOSED CASKET AT HIS FUNERAL.”

The cop snapped his fingers in front of my face and I forced my eyes back onto the cop. “Relax, kid. I need you to tell me where your friend might have gone.” That gave me pause. I never considered that the cops hadn’t actually caught Simon yet. This whole time, I had assumed he was caught right after he’d hung up on me. I didn’t think that he’d run off. Where could he have gone? It had been nearly a year, in that time he could’ve found any number of hiding places. For all I knew, he had taken the first bus out of the city by now.

“HE NEVER LEFT THE HOUSE.”

When my eyes widened and my breath hitched, the cop took notice. He started questioning me, asking what I knew, and I told him, “I know where Simon is.” I started walking towards the apartment. The cop began to protest, but eventually caved when he realized I was leading them directly to Simon. Walking up those steps past the yellow caution tape was like an out of body experience. The pill told me every detail of the events that transpired in that house. Every insult, every punch, every object thrown, every stabbing. I didn’t think my friend was capable of violence like this. It sickened me, but that didn’t stop me from walking past the crime scene investigators and into the closet next to the kitchen. They were yelling at me, telling me to leave or they’d press charges.

“Everybody shut up!” The older cop shouted. Just then, you could’ve heard a pin drop in that room. The others were confused, unsure what I was looking at. Then, those closest to me began to hear what I heard. Breathing. Heavy, wheezing breaths from behind the wall. I was terrified. My fingers shook as I felt the hidden edges of the panel, something that nobody else seemed to know about. I slowly moved the panel aside and the police shoved their flashlights into the doorway. There was a whisper from within the hole.

“We opened the doors, David. We let them in.” Chaos followed. Simon came screaming from within the crawlspace behind the panel and throttled me. He looked crazed, his face stained with blood as he threw me to the ground. I scrambled to get away from him and saw he was still holding the knife, still wet. He was shouting nonsense, waving around his knife before lunging at me. It was three seconds before he was tased. I saw Simon drop like a sack of bricks, gibbering and convulsing. There were orders shouted by just about everyone in the room. I couldn’t handle it. Everything became too much and I felt the walls coming down around me. I ran out of the room and back onto the street.

I started to run. I could hear people shouting for me to come back but I just couldn’t. Even the crowd outside wouldn’t let me be. But, then I understood that it wasn’t the crowd. It was the voice of the pill. It’s like something in my brain had shifted, and the pill began giving me all the worst information it could. It told me things that couldn’t be true. Things I wanted to forget.

“THE MAN TO YOUR LEFT IS A CANNIBAL.”

“THE CHILD TWO DOORS DOWN WILL GROW UP TO BE AN ARSONIST.”

“THE WOMAN IN HER CAR WANTS TO HURT YOU.”

“YOU ARE IN DANGER.”

I couldn’t hear my own thoughts anymore, they were all overridden by the pill. What had changed? Why had it turned on me? Maybe I just needed one more, I thought. I quickly reached back into my pocket, to find that one last, sweet, pink pill. Just one more dose of Psychopomp and maybe things would go back to normal. I’d be in control again. But that wasn’t what happened.

In my delirious state, running back to my car, I had fumbled with the bag too quickly. I opened it and the pill popped out of the bag onto the ground. “No!” I shouted, quickly dropping to the asphalt, chasing after it on my hands and knees as it rolled. I was already too late. The pill rolled to the side of the street, right onto a sewer grate in the gutter, where I saw it drop into the blackness between the metal bars. I screamed, watching as my last chance rolled down the drain. I couldn’t believe how stupid I was. I dragged myself to my car, starting the engine and swerving out onto the street.

The voices wouldn’t let up on the road. Every thought the pill gave me became corrupted and wrong. I started going faster and faster. I just needed to get home, everything would be okay if I got home. Cars on the road swerved to avoid me. Even speeding past them, the voice wouldn’t hold back in telling me their darkest secrets, true or not. I couldn’t tell anymore. Funeral dates, betrayals, little white lies. I couldn’t escape them. It didn’t take long for me to start screaming, just to hear myself again over the incessant noise.

By the time I pulled into the parking lot of my building, I was exhausted and terrified. Was this what happens when you take too much of the pill? Or maybe I didn’t take enough? Either way, I couldn’t get more. Simon was gone, I was never going to see him again outside of a prison cell. Was this my life now? Had the pills messed up my brain so much that I couldn’t perceive anything else anymore? I stumbled up the stairs and slammed my key into the lock. I threw open the door, scaring my roommate in the process. Chris looked to be doing some assignment. He shouted after me, questioning me. He asked where I had been, and why I was acting this way.

I ignored him again, quickly barging my way into the bathroom and bending over the toilet, vomiting. Chris stood in the doorway, scared. I got a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I was ghost white, sweating bullets, my eyes a bloodshot red. I looked like hell. I looked inside the bowl of the toilet, and was horrified to see my vomit was a glowing, sparkling shade of pink. For a moment, the pill’s voices went quiet, and I was left with a horrible silence ringing in my ears. I fell backward onto the bathroom tile, scurrying away from the toilet until I hit the wall.

“Are you okay?” Chris whispered.

“No, no I am not okay. You should know that.” I was gasping for air in between my words. I didn’t want to have this conversation right now, or ever, but Chris wouldn’t stop talking.

“Well, you haven’t told me anything! You disappeared an entire day, came back, told me you stole a bunch of money, and passed out. I was scared, David. God, this is even worse than last night.”

That caught my attention. “What do you mean by last night?”

Chris gave me a look I could only describe as concerned and terrified. “You started talking in your sleep last night.”

“I was? What was I saying?” My tongue felt numb, and I could hear my words come out slurred. I felt my heart begin to race again.

“You just kept going on and on about really bad things. Drugs, and theft, and murder, and ‘Psychopomp,’ whatever that is. You need help, dude. Whatever is going on with you, we can get you help for it.” His words hit me like a truck. Did I admit something in my sleep? What did I say exactly? What did he mean by help? On the edge of my senses, I could hear the voice of the pill whispering again. Was it always there? “I’m going to call the RA, okay? They can get you someone to talk to, and we can figure all of this out in the morning.” Chris walked away from the bathroom door, into our room.

Help? That wasn’t an option anymore. Clearly, Chris knew something I didn’t. Whatever I had said in my sleep was already incriminating enough. I couldn’t go to jail. This couldn’t be it. I didn’t want to die in prison. The pill’s voice was growing louder again.

“HE’S GOING TO TURN YOU IN.”

“HE’S DOING THIS TO GET YOUR MONEY.”

“HE’S ALWAYS HATED YOU.”

“STOP HIM.”

I had no choice anymore. This was do or die now. “Chris, stop, wait!” I staggered to my feet and went after him. I could hardly walk now, my head swimming with a mix of nausea and fear. The thoughts kept pressing me to act, to do something. I saw Chris move towards his desk, reaching for his phone. The voice of the pill started screeching, howling in my ears not to let him hurt me, and I saw red. I charged at him, tackling him to the ground. He was shouting, screaming for me to stop, but I couldn’t. I just laid into him, beating him with everything I had. He was thrashing around, begging me to stop, but I couldn’t. I just kept punching. I couldn’t stand him anymore. Everything about him was too perfect, too caring, and I couldn’t handle. I needed to hurt him before he hurt me. Bone crunched and skin ripped under my fists. It was only when he stopped moving that I realized I was screaming along with him.

It was over. I sat there, staring at my roommate’s collapsed face, heaving with the effort of what I’d done. My mind seemed clear for a moment, the pill had gone silent. I looked at my shaking hands, stained red. Then, I heard a new sound. It was the pill again.

“YOU’RE GOING TO HELL, DAVID.”

“What?” My voice cracked, unable to understand what I was hearing. The voice of the pill began to laugh. It was the worst sound imaginable, a howling chorus of squeals and cheers like nails on a chalkboard. The cackling lasted an eternity, and I was frozen, listening as my own mind mocked me, laughing with glee at what I had done. And, just as soon as it came, it was over, replaced by another voice, one far deeper than the others. It whispered something inside my head that will haunt me forever.

“DID YOU EVER WONDER… WHOSE VOICE YOU WERE LISTENING TO?”

I screamed. I screamed and screamed until the campus security busted down the door. I screamed as they hauled me away from Chris’s body. I screamed as they cuffed me and pushed me out of the room. “You don’t understand! They wouldn’t leave me alone! They wouldn’t leave me alone!”