Violet entered the lift as the doors opened automatically upon sensing her presence. “Level four,” Violet spoke.

Becky had one of the larger apartment models in Sector Six, a little over 300 square feet, practically a mansion for a single person on the station.

Unlike Violet’s place, Becky had an actual window that looked out into open space. The viewport unit was over three times as much as a unit without one—must be nice to have a trust fund—but for the poor normals like Violet, a recessed screen with a customizable feed of any view was a much cheaper option. It also had the added benefit of making the tiny space feel larger.

Violet hummed a tune to herself as the lift ascended. The song was something familiar but she couldn’t place exactly where she’d heard it or why it’d popped into her head now. No doubt one of the latest pop tunes from one of the inner planets.

The lift doors opened.

Violet paused, half-expecting a crowd of people to begin entering the lift, but no one was waiting outside. What was going on today with this place? Where was everybody?

Becky’s apartment was all the way on the outer edge of the station and Violet walked the lonely halls in silence. The quiet freaked her out more and more as she went along.

Several more sanitary units crisscrossed the halls in front of her. “Busy day for you guys, huh?” she asked with no response from the machines.

Great, she was talking to the station bots now. Maybe she should have indulged in a little hair of the dog before she left her apartment. Hopefully, Becky had something that would straighten her out.

Becky’s unit was nondescript except for the numbers on the wall next to the door.

Violet buzzed but Becky didn’t answer. She waited for what felt like an eternity—outside, alone, in the hallway, staring at the door, like a loser.

After several more tries of the doorbell, she finally gave it a good old-fashioned knocking.

“Wakey, wakey, Becks! Time to get up and help out your old friend, Violet!” She pounded her fist on the door a few last times.

Where was she?

Becky might be out getting lunch or something, but if the way Violet felt after last night was any indication, she was still in bed nursing the most wicked of hangovers.

She pulled out her comm and tried to call Becky directly. No answer.

Fuck this. Violet was done waiting. She entered her unique access code, the equivalent of a spare key, and the door to Becky’s apartment slid open.

Inside, the place was a wreck. Clothes were strewn everywhere. Food and dishes littered the horizontal surfaces of the small kitchenette and it was dark as shit.

Violet breezed in, thinking nothing of it. Becky’s place was always a mess.

“Hello, slut?” Violet called out. “Anybody home?”

In four steps, Violet crossed the small dining room at the entrance, the also-small living room, and ended up at the bedroom. The bedroom door was open. The lights were off.

Violet entered the bedroom, flicked on the overhead light, and paled at what she saw.

Becky was face-up on the floor, unmoving. A look of horror covered her face. Long and short gashes traversed Becky’s face, neck, arms, and hands.

No, not just gashes.

Violet leaned closer and examined the injuries. She also recognized the tell-tale sign of bite marks. Once upon a time, she’d dreamed of being a veterinarian. But not much opportunity for that on a floating chunk of metal in space.

A wave of nausea hit Violet as she pieced together what must have happened to her last night.

Waking up with a blood-covered face—wait a second! Had she done this gruesome thing to her friend?

She’d heard stories about designer drugs going bad and people doing all sorts of terrible things, but she never dreamed in her worst nightmare that it could happen to her. Those were bedtime tales and urban legends, told to kids to keep them on the straight and narrow. Weren’t they?

All of a sudden, Violet wasn’t so sure anymore.

Violet’s heart threatened to explode. Was it the death of her best friend or the energy drink?

She had to get her breath under control. Breathe in. Breathe out. Think, Violet.

Could she really have done this to Becks?

Violet couldn’t help but imagine Becky’s last moments and the terrible role she may have played in them. Vision after vision of horrific scenery played itself out in Violet’s mind.

Violet forced herself to look at her friend’s body.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Becky lay in a heap on the floor, her legs twisted one way, her torso twisted the other. Her wide-open eyes stared at Violet standing over her.

Violet felt panic beginning to rise. What should she do?

She would have to call Security Services and report it, obviously, but not without knowing more. She’d come here for a reason, after all, and now more than ever, she needed to remember what she did last night.

She made her way to the nightstand, carefully stepping over Becky’s body.

The nightstand was littered with makeup, empty beer cans that hadn’t made it to the recycler yet, Becky’s hand terminal, and a small, unmarked bottle of pills.

Bingo!

The Forget Me/Nots.

Violet pried off the cap and peered inside, praying that what she needed would be there.

“Come on, show me some Nots…”

Violet exhaled with relief. There were several Not pills mixed in among the Forget Me’s.

Violet tilted her head back to take one of the pills right then and there, but stopped. She glanced down at the dead body on the floor.

Here was no good.

The pills took a few minutes to kick in, and when they did she’d need to be sitting or lying down. The flashbacks and visions interfered with regular motor skills.

She was too freaked to take the Not here. Besides, what if she really did kill Becky? She didn’t want to come to in the same room with her, just in case.

Violet tiptoed out of the room as fast as she could, as if trying not to wake her dead friend. Before opening the door, she surveyed the room, wondering if she had touched anything else beside the pill bottle. Had she left fingerprints or any other incriminating evidence? She didn’t think so. But then again, if she was here last night murdering her friend, she doubted she’d been in the frame of mind to wipe the scene clean afterward.

Violet opened the door and stood there, frozen, staring out into the hall, unable to move.

What if someone was out in the hall? What if they had seen her enter Becky’s unit?

She didn’t know how much of the station was under surveillance, but surely they wouldn’t waste credits on cameras in the hallways of the residential living spaces. At the same time, video cameras and drones weren’t overly expensive.

Violet swore under her breath. Why hadn’t she paid better attention in Tech Ed class? She could actually remember the teacher using the station’s own systems as examples for his points. Too bad she was busy at the time, thinking about Jeff Foster making out with Susan Goff instead of paying attention to the lecture.

She snapped her attention back to the present dilemma and poked her head out into the hall.

The coast was clear.

She retraced her steps to the lift, rode down to level 22, and then walked back to her apartment, fighting the urge to break into a run at every moment.

Perhaps she was being paranoid, but she felt someone watching her as she walked down the empty halls. She checked behind her.

No one.

Probably the security cameras, that was all.

The urge to run the rest of the way fought to overtake her reason.

Now she was definitely being paranoid, she decided.

As she neared her apartment, she pulled out her comm and remotely opened the door. There was a fifty-fifty chance that it would either work or malfunction. And if it jammed halfway open, she didn’t want to wait any longer than she had to out in the hall where someone might see her. She couldn’t even imagine having to have a conversation with somebody right now.

With a groan, the door opened all the way, functioning properly for a change except for the strange noise. Violet made a note to put in another maintenance request, assuming she wasn’t arrested by the end of the day, that is.

Violet stepped inside and the door closed faster than the safety sensors should ever allow. Violet yelped in surprise and jumped away.

If one of her limbs had been caught in the door—she tried not to think what might have happened, but the thought of her bones being crunched and crushed sent a shudder down her spine.

She flopped backwards onto her bed and tried to quiet her racing mind.

Unsuccessfully.

Becky’s lifeless body popped into her thoughts, racking her with guilt over what she’d done.

Over what she thought she may have done, she quickly corrected herself. Things were bad enough as they were without jumping to conclusions.

Unable to lay still with the thoughts running through her head anymore, Violet rose and poured herself a glass of water, popped a Not pill in her mouth, and swallowed it down. She slumped her body onto her bed and waited for the pill to kick in.

Horror scenes continued to hijack Violet’s brain. Becky posing in the mirror. Becky laughing at one of Violet’s jokes. Blood running down Becky’s face. The scent of iron in her nostrils. The frozen stare of Becky’s corpse.

And then, just when Violet didn’t think she could take anymore, the drug kicked in.

The Not pill made its arrival like a blunt force trauma. Opposite the Forget Me pill, which could hardly be felt, the Not pill completely took over.

First came the bright lights flashing across Violet’s eyes. Like being at a rave with her besties, every neon color she could imagine, strobing its way into the center of her brain.

And then darkness.

This part made Violet want to claw her eyes out. But the price had to be paid.

Her hearing went next.

All of the station’s background noises, the clinks and whirs, the creaks and groans, all faded away. The only noise left was her heartbeat pounding away in her ears like the drum bass of a dance track.

Then the pinpricks ravaged her body from head to toe. At first the sensation was mild, and then the intensity ramped up until her entire being felt like a leg that had fallen asleep for hours and was now returning to life.

A scream rose in her throat but she couldn’t tell if it ever made its way out.

The physical effects of the Not lasted for approximately three minutes, but she swore they went on for a half hour or more.

From the chaos of the sensory overload came a stillness, and from the stillness, the memories came forth.

Not all at once, or in order, like a movie, but in bits and pieces. In flashes, like little bolts of lightning in a thunderstorm of memories.

Memories of the night before.

The flood hit her head like a tsunami, wiping out any other thoughts. Violet struggled to make sense of them.

She couldn’t say how long it lasted.

And then it was over, and Violet began stitching together what had happened to her.