Trigger Warning: Violence, murder, manipulation, depressive themes, and drug use
ENTRY XXI:
I’ve returned from the most deadly trip: one where there was no violence but my inner turmoil and the subsequent loss of myself.
In the weeks leading up to my departure, Ego described a part she needed known simply as the “Crystal of Wonder.” This stone, she detailed, was capable of generating its own electrical current and was a small source of renewable energy. She needed the part for a gun she was fixing, after it had been damaged in a fight. Unannounced to me, I was meant to retrieve this special stone for her.
One day, after falling asleep on my uncomfortable spot in the lab –a torn and rotted couch– I woke up in an entirely new time and place. When I opened my eyes, I saw the most beautiful visage of a woman I’d ever seen. She watched me worriedly, waiting for me to move. Her name was Lauraine Beal. She helped me out of the coffin I had found myself in, and brushed off the roses I had been asleep under. Choosing to embrace the startling situation, I began joking and flirting with her. Lauraine took kindly to me, though notably confused.
I spent the better half of a week with her, piecing together how and why I was there, and attempting to journal my time on notebook paper that has been subsequently lost. Nothing notable happened, other than my overwhelming crush on her. But it was while hiding out in her college dorm during her classes on the first day that I read the newspaper and realized something concerning: it was October 1955.
It took a lot of contemplation for me to realize I wasn’t dreaming. My dreams had always been vague and distant, where I wasn’t able to make out all the details.
I also ruled out the possibility of my experience being a forgotten memory, due to the vividness of it. Nothing felt familiar, and none of it was hidden or on the cusp of my knowledge...aside from my getting there in the first place.
I was in 1955 with a girl named Lauraine Beal, who was a science student at Princeton University. She had a friend named Delores (Dee) who she was quite close with and who studied fashion. Dee was a big fan of Christian Dior’s “New Look” silhouette, and was quite startled by my particular appearance.
She remarked once “you’d be quite handsome if not for that ragged look to you.”
Lauraine, to my defense, told her “Angel’s got almost a James Dean look.”
“Yeah, see where that gets him.”
I tried to remember whether or not the actor had died yet. I chose my words carefully, to not give myself away to Lauraine’s friend.
“Where will that get me?”
“Six feet under the ground.”
I thought back to the strange coffin I had arrived in, and sighed.
During my week with Lauraine, I caught wind of the discovery of Ego’s “Crystal of Wonder” in Australia. Still feeling bound by Ego, I asked Lauraine about it. She told me that not only was this stone coincidently coming to Princeton to be studied, but there was a ball being held in November and the stone was to be on display. I’ve learned, in my time with Ego, that a coincidence is just a plot you’re too dull to be in on. This was a plot I was definitely meant to be in on.
I convinced Lauraine to take me to the ball instead of her friend Dee. Lauraine wore a tight gold lamé dress with a plunging neckline. It was uncharacteristic of her thus far, which fascinated me. I wore a suit cooked up by Dee, but styled my hair and face according to my own taste. Upon our arrival, I could already feel a tension rising among the people there. It was the feeling one gets when the air grows still in the eye of a hurricane. I stayed alert, waiting for the perfect time to steal the crystal for Ego. It never came.
I became less on edge and started enjoying my night with Lauraine. We danced and went outside where it was quiet. She led me into a secluded area and kissed me, sending a shock throughout my body. She then pulled away, and showed me a small rock tucked away in her bag.
“I stole it,” she whispered.
“Stole what?”
“Your rock.”
I gasped when I realized. I looked again and sure enough, she had gotten the rock. She shoved the bag at me with a grin.
“Take this and go home to your year. I’m sure somebody misses you dearly.”
I shook my head. “I don’t miss them.”
She shrugged, “Everybody misses somebody.”
I don’t think I’ll ever forget Lauraine, despite my confusion about the circumstances surrounding our meeting. When I woke up back at Ego’s, with Lauraine’s bag still in my inner coat pocket, I found myself saddened by what I left behind. It hurt more knowing it had been real than if it had all been a dream. I reluctantly surrendered the stone to Ego, and wondered both what came of Lauraine and the journals I had been writing during my stay.
ENTRY XXII:
I’ve found myself contemplating ways to leave Ego, but have come to the conclusion that if I surrendered for the time being and stayed, I could turn her scheme around on her. What advantages could I gain in her trust?
Her lair has an abundant amount of ways to pass the time if you look thoroughly enough. I’ve found solace in taking Valiums to pass my ever-abundant time.
ENTRY XXIII:
I’ve decided to just give it up and pretend to be happy. Something interesting will come of it; more interesting than wallowing in my own self-pity. Besides, I have nothing left to lose. When I play her game I find myself getting rewarded anyway. I wonder what it will be like to be the servant Ego so desperately desires me to be. Will I lose even more of myself to her in the weeks to come… or will I gain something new entirely?
It’s easier to try and live in ignorance than to live with the knowledge of my own suffering.
ENTRY XXIV:
She took me out to the city today, and for the first time in a long time, I found myself content with the experience. The warmth of the summer sun; the warmth of hot blood splattered across my face. The impressive and looming structures of the city; the equal mystique of my captor’s blade at work. The low hum of the city at night; the low hum of my heartbeat laced with adrenaline, and no longer fear.
When she gave me her knife to cut down the last specimen, she watched me carefully. She saw my personal style emerge, and dared to question me on where it had been hiding within the whole time she had known me. I didn’t entertain her further with my response, taking delight in her gap in knowledge. Anything I can hold over her still entices me.
ENTRY XXV:
The nights feel as though they stretch on for days, like one perpetual hour folded in upon itself. In my haze, I find myself venturing out to Creation Forest. When I collapse, the creatures leave me alone. They have become familiar enough with me to have assessed me as a non-threat to their tired existence, and are clever enough to know my blood would taste of benzodiazepine and various other numbing agents.
In my stupors, I have begun to have dreams. They are vague and vastly useless but starting to plague me. I’ll have several dreams across the span of a binge, and they will cause me to feel a rush of hope and rebelliousness I can’t afford to have. I’m worried that in my lightened state I will forget the responsibility I have to myself, that I will act rashly instead of stepping back, observing, and planning. I’m worried that I will act in all of my fear and all of my frustration and cause Alter Ego to have to kill me. And as empty as I feel, still a stranger to myself, I cannot let Ego win.
One thing I can say I’ve learned of myself is that I’m incredibly spiteful of those who do me wrong.
I’m equally nostalgic for those I love, whose faces my mind still doesn’t remember.
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