This wasn’t working. 45 minutes with my face buried in a pillow and I wasn’t any closer to sleep than when I first forced myself into bed. My apartment was a purgatory now, an uncomfortable liminal space between states of being. My mind was fixated on the last missing pieces of my nearly year-long escapade, and trying to will myself not to think about them just made my heart rate spike. I was anxious about the summoning. I was anxious about my friends. I was anxious about my stupid anxiety, which I realized was asinine, but brains don’t care about what makes sense and what doesn’t. My fight or flight reflex was beating the hell out of my body, so I finally gave in and flew.

Watching the looping pattern of the road in the early morning was always a special kind of escapism; it was the illusion of progress, even if you had no idea where the hell you were going. I spent a lot of time driving when I couldn’t get away from the thoughts I had bouncing off the walls of my skull. The windows were down, my music was loud, and I was doing my best impression of someone not having an existential crisis. I drove on autopilot up and down familiar, winding roads for hours, letting my mind chew through imagined possibilities and potential futures. It was helping. Kind of.

The worst case scenario was that I fucked this up in its entirety, which was definitely something I could see happening. Only girls were trained to use magic, and God was I ever aware of it. My parents weren’t fond of the idea of employing the help of those “foul creatures” in the first place; it was seen as a sinful mistake not to rely on the help God already offered the faithful. However, it at least came off as a natural weakness of the fairer sex to reach her hands into the depths and pull out a partner. It was, after all, Eve who first sunk her teeth into the forbidden fruit. She was a fragile creature with a paper-thin will, easily punctured by the sharp fangs of the serpent. Even if I wanted to learn the intricate art of painting runes or how to properly cast binding spells, that information was restricted and carefully guarded. To say I was winging it was putting it lightly. It was fine, though; I was damned already.

Then there was the almost as terrifying possibility that I, by some miracle, managed to get this right. So what then, I change everything? I couldn’t stay here. People knew me already, and the stigma from the shit I was about to pull would follow me to my grave. The idea of starting over somewhere new was uncertain and scary, but staying here under the scrutiny of my family wasn’t even a fucking option. I’d miss my favorite spots and some of my memories, but what cut the deepest was knowing that I couldn’t take the two people I cared about most with me. Marcus and Constance were happy with each other, and they got by just fine despite how occasionally hostile this town could be. Constance never brought her demon around, and Marcus only wanted to talk magic when it came to giving me grief about my arcade game obsession. I wasn’t about to tear down their lives because their friend was a freak.

No matter what happened in the coming days, I was going to have to swallow something I didn’t like. At this point, destruction at the hands of some awful and powerful demonic entity seemed almost preferable to anybody in this town getting wind of what I was hiding. My mind was gnawing at the edges of itself, my anxiety threatening to claw its way back from the caverns I tried to shove it into. The sun was coming up and the high of my night drive was wearing thin, so I finally decided to put my foot down on a destination for my insomnia-fueled adventure: Mills’ Diner.

Mills’ sat squarely on the outskirts of town, and it kind of marked the edge of civilized society. The diner was too far for most townies to make an event of driving out that way for a stack of flapjacks and a coffee. It lived and died on the patronage of the people passing through, but I had never really thought of myself as one of those people until recently. Mills’ had decent food and a warm atmosphere, and their machine was one of my favorites anywhere in the area. It was a little old, but the staff kept adding rubber bands to the claw arms to compensate for the deteriorating power of the grabbing mechanism. It closed for real once every eight times, and I could count on one hand all the times I’d missed pulling a capsule when it came time to win. When I had free time, I’d keep a booth warm all day eating, people watching and scoring prizes from the machine. I spent a lot of time in this old building, and pulling up to the glass double doors, it felt right that this should be the place I said goodbye.

The booth was familiar and comfortable, and I immediately ordered my usual depression favorite: strawberry cheesecake pancakes with cream cheese icing. When my heart was hurting, I could always fall back on making my stomach happy. The coffee came out and I spent a few minutes just taking in the smell of it, feeling the warm drink against the skin of my hands. The voices and sounds of the diner always became this sort of background noise that I absolutely adored. I’d catch snippets of the conversations of people on their way here or there, and for a little bit, I got to pretend I was part of that. I wasn’t particularly good at people most of the time. When I wasn’t psyching myself out over something I’d said or done, my brain was doing its best to convince me that people didn’t actually want me around. On my good days, I knew those feelings were lies, but it was hard to fight them off forever when I looked at myself in the mirror and felt like I didn’t particularly want me around either.

I polished off the last of my coffee and cracked my knuckles. It was time for me to get started. The machine was the same as always; retro in design, the kind with the faux wood paneling and the fuzzy carpet on the floor of the chamber. It looked like it had been recently filled, too! I inhaled deeply and rolled the cash in my hand, readying myself for what would likely be the last session of my life - but to my horror, I spied it: “Out of Order.”

No. Absolutely not. It was not about to go down this way. The amount of psyching myself up and chewing through my nerves I’d done this morning was not about to go to waste. My breathing was heavy as I tried to gather myself enough to-

“Oh hey, I’m sorry! The thing’s been on the fritz for the last week.” Who could say how long the shaggy haired boy had been standing behind me. I whirled around to look at him and gasped. It was just my waiter. Obviously I hadn’t quite dealt with my anxiety from that morning. “Whoa, sorry! Sorry to scare you!” I desperately tried to form words as I caught my breath.

“Oh, no- it’s okay, I just…”

“I can just open it for you if you want. The company that supplies ‘em dumps boxes of the things on us whenever we run out.” The guy didn’t even wait for my response. He just smiled at me and gestured for me to move so he could bend down and open the thing. “How many do you need?” He couldn’t be serious.

“I, uh… Five, if that’s alright?” I swallowed hard.

“Yeah yeah, sure, I got you… uh… what’s your name?” One, two, three… Fuck, he really was just going to give them to me. I knew that to most people these things were on par with a kazoo or a balloon or something, but he just took away the source of my dread.

“...It’s Hawley.” I held my bag out and he dropped in the capsules one by one.

“Aw, that’s a cute name! Don’t hear that one much any more.” My face felt hot. “Well, Holly, your pancakes will be out in five. I’ll bring ‘em right over, okay?” He smiled and waved as he made his way back to the kitchen area.

I could’ve died right then and there.

My cheeks were red and I was just standing there like some fucking dweeb holding the last things I needed to make this work. What was I supposed to do? I had planned to spend the next few hours in a mild panic attack sorting out how I was going to play tonight, but now it was all “That’s a cute name,” and strawberry pancakes. I stared off into the distance and sank into my familiar booth for what had to be the last time ever. Now maybe I could actually enjoy it.

I looked through the capsules he’d given me. I had a spell that exploded confetti and one that made the room smell like oranges. I had spells that created swirling lights and caused temporary tattoos to appear on your body. I even pulled a rare one that grew the user cat ears and a tail for an hour.

I didn’t need them for any of that… at least, like, not right now.

“Strawberry cheesecake pancakes for Holly the Collector.” He gently set the food down on the table and went about the task of refilling my coffee. “If you don’t mind me asking, whatcha gonna do with all those things? Throwing a party?” I finally had regained enough of my faculties to get a good look at his nametag. Sorry, Cole; this shit was on a need to know basis.

“I dunno, I just kinda think they’re cool?” I shrugged and did my damndest to look unsuspicious.

“They’re neat enough, I guess. I’ve had a few friends play roulette and drinking games and stuff with ‘em, but for my money I’d just rather get high.” He chuckled and grabbed a few plates from the neighboring booth, stacking them with the kind of nonchalance that only came from secretly hoping your boss would get the wise idea to actually fire you today. “Listen, Holly…” Oh god, where was this going.

“I know it don’t really mean much coming from a stranger, but don’t let ‘em get you down, you know?” I froze. What exactly did he mean by that?

“It’s none of my business, I just know a face with trouble on it. This town’s got enough folks stuck in the past that it can getcha thinkin’ that’s everybody.” He turned and pulled one of his sleeves up before readjusting the plates in his hands. “Keep your head up.”

That’s when I caught a glimpse of the tattoo on his upper arm. It was only for a second, but I’d recognize that tree anywhere; it was just like the one on me. Fuck, had I let mine show? He had to have figured me out somewhere along the way.

I despised that tattoo. Cole seemed like such a nice boy; I was willing to bet he probably did too. Today really wasn’t a day I felt like sticking around to pick this dude’s brain about his tragic backstory. I had everything I needed at this point, and I’d waited long enough to see this through. I wolfed down the rest of my pancakes, which were delicious, and dropped the cash on the table with a generous tip for the guy that saved me a mountain of disappointment and a day full of irritation.

I took the next few hours to head home and collect myself. I gathered and recounted my capsules for the millionth time, and everything seemed to be in order. It looked like this was finally happening. I was going to take my time making myself feel as comfortable as possible before risking my life. I had no idea what was coming for me, or how long whatever that was was going to take. I showered and shaved. I moisturized and shaved again. I cobbled together an outfit I would have never dreamed of wearing out of the apartment: a midriff cut jean jacket, a crop top, and a pair of black skinny jeans. My dark hair was almost shoulder length at this point, and I could at least be content with the fact that it was behaving itself tonight. Finally, I grabbed the cherry on top: friendship bracelets from Marcus and Constance, one for each wrist.

I checked everything one last time. I had my bags with the capsules, ink, a lighter, three days worth of non-perishables and water, and… “..Fuck it.” I tossed my phone on the bed. I wasn’t about to need it where I was going. I grabbed my keys and trotted towards the door, catching a quick glance of myself in the mirror; I wasn’t anywhere close to what I wanted, but it didn’t matter any more. If there was a chance I could have this, I’d throw everything else away. It wasn’t worth thinking about the alternatives.

My hand slid across the wall one last time and found the light switch to my little studio apartment; it had been good to me for as hard as I was to handle. I flipped the switch and took a deep breath.

“Thanks for everything.”

I really was a sentimental bitch.