While his personality was kind and easy-going, the one prevailing opinion of him, was that he was different.
Lying in the bath sipping on of the most expensive bottle of wine he’d ever seen, Derrick said out loud.
“Well, I’m just… breathtakingly fucked.”
The barmaid was a tired-looking girl, probably in her mid-20s after a shower, but in that moment she could have been anything from 19 to 47.
“I always knew… That we were solid. That whatever shit came our way we’d take it on together. That even on days when we hated each other we would take each other’s hands and get through it, together.”
“I know what you’re thinking.” He said as he slipped the last of his martini down his throat. “Does he come here often? The answer is no.”
Isaac was, in fact, going to be late for his family dinner as he was, at the same moment, on the other side of the city quietly slipping out of the bedroom of Mrs Williamson.
Content warning: Violence and themes of rape.
Spending 6 years locked in a 35 square meter rectangle alone always changes a person.
If you were offered a potion that could make all your wildest dreams come true, but at the end of an hour you’d die, would you take it?
Dan looked down at the ash floating in his last glass of whiskey and thought to himself.
“Life is gorgeous.”