Garret looked at Damon with anticipation in his eyes as the dean finished his speech commemorating the graduates. Garret met Damon during their freshman year in a life drawing class. One day their model never showed up so the teacher's rule was to have a student substitute in his place. Damon drew the short straw and even though he didn’t have to undress completely, the pressure of being in the spotlight started a panic attack. Sixteen students would see

 Garret saw the brace on his wrist flashing and before Damon could transition, Garret stepped in his place. Later, he told Garret he never had anyone protect him like that and he’d never seen a more beautiful masterpiece. Garret felt the same about Damon. He didn't care what was under those clothes but he knew it was something beautiful and special. They became roommates and the best of friends ever since. 

Garret witnessed all of Damon’s transitions and has been at his side for every one of them. But after watching the violent episodes of Bază and Canaan, he insisted on finding Damon professional help. Bază's transition was sickening to watch when he distorted Damon's body, making the once scrawny man a massive beast with teeth and claws ready to rip his enemy to shreds. Garret could only describe Canaan as pure evil, bent on ruining the lives of those around him. 

The dean of the university began calling out the students’ names. One by one they shook the dean’s hand, took their certificate from the assistant dean and walked off the stage to the front rows. As Damon and Garret inched their way down the line, Damon scanned the audience for a familiar face. He didn’t expect to find anyone out there he knew. The only family he had disowned him and his only friend was in front of him. Nevertheless, he looked at all the people and a sea of eyes floated in his direction expectantly.

And then he saw her.

For an instant he locked eyes with his mother and she lowered her gaze out of shame. His eyes darted to the stocky man to her left. He’d recognize Dr. Reder anywhere with his salt-and-pepper hair and the small scar just below his left eye. So many questions raced through his mind at the sight of their surprise visit. Did they find out he stopped taking his medication? Did they know he’s been losing control over the transitions? Were they here to take him away again?

He took another step down the line as more names were being called and moving off stage, his feet feeling like cement, his palms sweating bullets. He swallowed a lump in his throat and tried to focus on something else, anything but that doctor. Garret was by his side and promised to wait off the stage with him. He watched his friend shake hands with the dean, receive his diploma, and walk off stage to wait for him. There he stood just behind the curtains, watching anxiously as Damon struggled to move, ready to step in and help at the first sign of trouble. 

Focus on Garret, he thought. Garret, his only friend for the past four years, his reason for quitting his medications and wanting a normal life. Or as close to normal as someone with multiple personalities can get. He tried to focus on his friend across his stage. His encouraging smile and bright blue eyes usually kept him grounded, but seeing his mother and Dr. Reder in the stands made the fog over his eyes rise even faster. It was his turn but as he tried to move forward his legs were suddenly dead weights. Sweat beaded down his brow and his blood was drumming loudly in his ears. He cupped his hands over his ears to block it out but the sound wasn’t coming from the room.

High time I ran the show, whelp. That bitch needs to pay and now's our chance.

Not now! Not here! Not in front of all these people!

“Damon Masters?” the dean called for him again, but he seemed like a thousand miles away.

He tried to move his feet again but all his muscles had locked up. Breathing became impossible as his lungs burned and his heart worked in overtime. All the color seemed to leave his face and his stomach felt like it was on fire. A red haze blanketed his vision and the sound of the dean and murmurs in the audience were barely audible. Everyone was looking at him anxiously waiting for him to shake the dean’s hand and get off the stage. He tried one last time to look for Garret through the red but the fog became too unbearable. His mind shut down and his arms dropped to his sides, his body stiff as a board.

The student behind him had let his patience wear long enough. He was ready to get out of here and party with his friends. 

“Get on with it, freak,” he hissed, shoving Damon and in one foul swoop he slipped the band from his long braid and stumbled to his knees right in front of the dean.

The dean never had someone become ill on stage like this and didn't know what to do. Cautiously, he bent over to check on him, but it was no longer Damon the man was hovering over. “Damon?”