The idea was she would stand naked, or as naked as she could stand, in front of the mirror and read the words out loud every day.
…everything was going to be just fine.
“And then hot girls in fuck all clothes had to munch on bugs to get high at night clubs.”
“Never let it be said that the apocalypse wasn’t beautiful.”
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 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.”
Marcus wrote the words hoping that getting them out of his head and onto paper would somehow make the nightmare go away, but like the bite of hard liquor or the smell of rotten meat, that kind of isolation lingered.
The words scrawled across the walls read,
‘Only two ways to enter.’
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?
It had all happened to fast but had felt like the perfect storm, a breakthrough to a world he didn’t know existed.