April 9th, 2014

Even after all these years, I still remember the day I first met my universe’s Blossom and Glen. Dad was taking my mom and I on an after-school trip to Windsor. While I was a bit surprised he’d have the time, considering it was a weekday, I was nonetheless pleased with the prospect of spending family time with him and Mom.

We were on an infamous stretch on the 401 I would later know as “Carnage Alley” - named as such due to all the car crashes that occur there. Of course, six year old me was none the wiser to any of that history. To me, it was just a landscape of flat and empty fields with little to see beyond the subtle hints of wildlife that occasionally peeked out. It was still nice to sleep in the back of the car in my booster seat.

Someone in the front of the car - though I couldn’t quite tell who - dropped something heavy on the floor. Just as I heard the shuffles of them trying to pick the object up, I suddenly heard a set of swooshes scraping against both sides of the car. My eyes shot open.

“Oh shit,” my dad muttered as he slammed the brakes. It was the first swear word I ever learned.

It was also not long before I witnessed the thudding of two cars in front of us.

The two cars had Glen and Blossom in them (then known by their deadnames, Fern and Oliver), and were respectively driven by their father and mother. Their other parents were in the cars as well. When my dad walked up to exchange information, he noticed that the drivers of the two cars were unconscious and bleeding. He called 911, and then proceeded through all the car crash contact info exchange as usual. 

My dad’s car turned out fine enough to be salvaged by an auto repair shop later. Glen and Blossom’s family cars, though, were not - and neither were their drivers that day. Nevertheless, neither of my friends misses the latter. 

Given what I know about them, I completely understand why.

April 9th, 2026

I’m having a serious internal debate on what, exactly, to do with these strange alternate versions of my friends. Sure, they’re plotting to commit literal first degree murder over a creepy headcanon. I even hesitate to call it a headcanon, given it involves a real woman and not just, say, a purple bunny boy from an indie show. 

But on the other hand….God, I do not think either of them would survive prison. Even discounting their trans identities - something jails often do not take well to - there’s also the fact that they’re both very, very delusional. Delusional enough to plan a felony over a shoddily supported at best fan theory, in fact. This sort of delusional thinking may be easy to hide in daily life, but behind bars? Yeahhhhhh, they are going to get jumped for sure if they get sentenced. For now, however, I’m just trying to gather more information on my new universe’s versions of Glen and Blossom. 

Tonight, we’re going to a local secular cemetery. It’s the 12th anniversary of the three way car accident where I first met Blossom and Glen. In this universe, though, their opposite gendered parents died instead. They also definitely seem to miss them more, if the fact they’re actually visiting their burial spots is any indication.

Because I have no idea where my alt-universe friends’ deceased parents are buried, I let Blossom drive us. According to her, she told her mom that we were travelling to scout potential scenery for her makeup and fashion influencer channel on TikTok. Of course, Blossom was lying.

This is probably our quietest meetup together - which I almost find a bit comforting, given how this means I don’t have to listen to their more lurid fantasies. Nonetheless, the air of grief that blankets us prevents me from finding true solace in the trip. I’m honestly not sure what to say to my newfound friends, but I try anyway.

“Do you…” I trail off, “...still think about your dad a lot?” I ask Blossom. “Now that you’re almost 18?”

Blossom clears her throat as she adjusts the car brakes.

“Yeah,” she replies. “But it’s not because I miss him.”

Wait, I wonder, so her dad’s the bad one in this universe?

“I never really knew Dad,” Blossom continues. “I mean, I’m pretty sure he loved me. He never starved me like Mom, and he was always nice to me. But we were all in kindergarten when he died, so…”

“You know,” Glen adds, “I also didn’t know my mom that well. Uh, she tried to get me into sculpting? Still, she was definitely nicer than my dad.”

As we get closer to the cemetery, Blossom makes sure to spoof the location on her phone - lest her mother discover she’s visiting her father’s grave. While we are on the middle of a road when she does this, I let it slide as I piece together the volatility of Blossom’s family situation. Another few intersections later, and we’re at the cemetery.

The graves of my alternate friends’ parents are somewhat far off from where Blossom parked. Nonetheless, I don’t mind the walk. It’s arriving there that proves to be more disturbing.

“Oh my God…” Blossom strains her voice.

I turn to where Blossom set her eyes on: the side-by-side graves of her father and Glen’s mother. Both have been vandalized by a mix of spray paint and a brown liquid that vaguely smells like beer. The fluids spell out wording that read I WISH THE ANASTHESIA WORE OFF MID-SURGERY.

“Who did this?” I ask.

“Probably my dad,” Glen answers. “He says he comes here sometimes just to spit on my mom’s grave. Trust me, you don’t wanna know what he uses to fertilize this…”

Blossom gulps in discomfort, her face going red.

“God, I shouldn’t have set him off like this…” Glen eyes his mother’s burial spot.

In the meantime, Blossom tells what’s left of her father about how her life has been going. She finally managed to get a B minus in her Data Management math class, which wouldn’t seem like much if it weren’t for the fact she had been consistently 60ing most of her classes. She also bragged about how well her TikTok channel was going, with her hitting 50k followers today. Most importantly, though, she reassured him she was doing fine, and was happy to still be friends with Glen and I. She closed off with a promise to continue improving her grades and to find a way out of her mother’s influence to honour her father’s wishes. No mention of her Daisy Butler conspiracies, luckily.

I know just what to do with her and Glen now.

Later That Night

I’m back home, although my parents aren’t. They’re on some sort of date night together which I neither know nor can bring myself to care about the details of.

I use my opportunity home alone to call Nasrin. She might not know my phone number, but I know hers. I figure I can also just email her if she doesn’t pick up the phone. Fortunately, Operation Phone Call does work.

“Hello?” Nasrin answers her phone.

“Hey,” I start, “it’s Miss Alternate Universe Girl.”

“Who?” Nasrin wonders. “Oh rigggghtt…Cheryl. What are you doing up so late?”

I sigh.

“If you find a way to get me back home soon,” I state, “please don’t pull the trigger. I need to stop my friends from killing a singer’s boyfriend."

Nasrin gasps through her device.

“Oh…wow,” she mutters. “Did you report them to the cops?”

“They’re not criminals yet!” I get defensive. “I’m pretty sure I can change their minds.”

Nasrin clicks her tongue.

“These people are not the friends you’ve known all your life,” Nasrin points out. 

I clench my teeth.

“Yeah,” I reply, “but I still see hope in them. They’re kind to me and grieve for their parents. I wouldn’t have found you if not for Blossom. It’s not like they’re sociopaths.”

An air of silence fills our call for a bit.

“Girl,” Nasrin chides, “do you have a plan?”

“I…do not,” I admit.

I hear a thump from the other side of the screen.

“Cheryl,” Nasrin warns, “I’m not going to report your friends. I am already running a legally grey lab that I do not want to draw the authorities more attention to, and I’m not getting my colleagues and I ratted out. But please. Think!”

“You don’t understand,” I retort, “do you?”

“I know you want to help your friends,” Nasrin continues, “but there are things you just can’t do on your own.”

I briefly consider Nasrin’s words. Would I forgive myself if I failed? What if Daisy’s boyfriend does die? What if my friends do go to jail?

But what if I don’t? What if I can prevent Blossom and Glen from ruining both their lives and the lives of their obsession targets? What if, by some miracle, I could even start to change them for the better?

It’s something Nasrin can’t fathom, that’s for sure.

(Wattpad version: https://www.wattpad.com/1649398968-the-daisy-theory-chapter-6)

(Tumblr version: https://www.tumblr.com/talesfromasnarkylisa/824386588795682816/the-daisy-theory-chapter-6?source=share)