It’s a fake mirror. The one above. Some kind of carnival trick like they have at fancy theme parks. Just an elaborate illusion. Which means, I’m still engaged in this sadistic hoax.

This realization drained me of energy. All I wanted to do was lie back down in the hospital bed and go to sleep. Who knew what other tricks awaited me right outside the door the fangled-toothed doctor had just walked through. I had no other choice but to find out.

I swung my legs off the chair, pushed myself to my feet and tested the strength of my legs. They trembled and the world began to wobble so I lay back down. Then, before I could try to rise again, the door opened from the other side and the young woman who had flashed me at the bar walked through.

It looked like my nurse had arrived.

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Mandy-Marie had exchanged her concert shirt for a costume nurse outfit with a short, hip-hugging skirt. The open top showcased the pert tits she had flashed during the show. I assumed that had just been a few hours earlier, but she had been wasted at the club and appeared sober now. Blue eyeliner rimmed her bright, alert eyes; glittering mascara caused her eyelashes to sparkle. Those eyes were all I could look at as she strutted toward the bed where I lay in an atrophied puddle. That doctor had said he’d administered antivenin for the snakebite, but I wondered if I wasn’t succumbing to the poison now and dying, drawing my final breaths.

She stopped when she reached the bed and stared down at me with a look of mild indifference, as though examining a pet turtle. “You won’t last the night.” She clicked her tongue. “I should just kill you now.” She picked through the utensils on the instrument tray and selected a scalpel, brought it toward my neck and ran the tip along my jawline. “Is that what you want? Trust me, it’s the best offer you’re going to get, the easiest way out. Continue on and you’ll be told many lies; this isn’t one of them.”

I wanted to reach up and grab her wrist, but I was still woozy and it wouldn’t take much for her to stab the scalpel into my neck. I could feel the sharp tip pricking my skin, right on the brink of breaking through. Still, I couldn’t buy into this whole thing being anything more than a well-orchestrated charade. The fake mirror alone seemed to prove this point. I was on one of those stupid prank shows and in just a little while my prick friends would come in howling with laughter at how frightened I had become during their ridiculous stunt.

“You’re the trustworthy one, huh?” I said. “Right.”

“I didn’t say that. But I am the only one you can trust.”