Before I Go: A dark and tense psychological crime thriller. by Marie Reyes (the false prince series txt) 📗

walked over to the kettle. As he waited for it to boil, he held up the packet to his face and looked at its dry, brown contents, trying to remember how much the guy had said to take. He aired on the side of caution and put a little into his cup before topping it up with the freshly boiled water. He swirled the mixture, watching it turn a yellowy brown—here goes nothing.

He sat on the soft bed waiting for the drug to kick in, and not sure what to expect. He had dabbled in hallucinogenics before, in his younger days, and hadn’t had a bad reaction yet. Instead of just waiting, Michael walked up to the closet and went through his limited selection of clothes. This was a fancy place, but all the other guests seemed to be casual, so he opted for his usual shorts and T-shirt—the last fresh pair he had. He went back to the bed and laid back against the plump pillows to rest his eyes for a moment.

When Michael opened his eyes, he knew time had passed, how much, he wasn’t sure, but the room looked different somehow.  After taking a couple of minutes to remind himself where he was and to make sense of his surroundings, he felt the need to get out of the room. As he collected his things and walked out the door into the hallway, a tingly buzz traveled up and down his arms as if the air around them felt alive, and he could sense each individual particle vibrating. The world in front of his eyes felt crisp and more vivid than usual. He wanted to touch everything. As he approached the elevator he became aware that he had a strange smirk on his face, but couldn’t help it. The more he tried to keep a straight face, the more he smiled, and it took all his willpower to stop himself from bursting out laughing. There was no one in the elevator when it arrived at his floor, and as the elevator dropped down below him, his stomach lurched. The face looking back at him from the mirrored walls did not look like his own, and the longer he looked at it, the more distorted it became. It was him, but with small differences, just similar enough that it was still recognizable as him, but just different enough that something was clearly not right. It was the eyes. When he decided he couldn’t look at them anymore, the ping of the elevator reaching the ground floor made him jump.

Avoiding eye contact with the other guests waiting to get in the elevator, he slipped by them, past the reception desk and straight out the doors into the warm night air. The sound of insects chirping and distant conversations droned in the background. Bushes and red tropical plants lined the building, and he followed the path towards the sound of voices. When he got to the end of the wall, he turned to the right and the swimming pool revealed itself to him. The pool area was full of young people talking way louder than they needed to. Michael missed his twenties. Everything seemed just that little more rosy then. In his twenties he still had the hope that he could make something of his life, that anything he did mattered.

The hotel bar overlooked the pool. Despite the luxuriousness of the hotel, the bar had a rustic vibe. A straw roof, wooden chairs and tables, and cocktails flowing with free abandon. He couldn’t help but smile when he remembered he had paid for all drinks to be included. There was only one free table left, so he planted himself down and started looking through the drinks menu. Determined to get his money’s worth, Michael ordered two cocktails, and whilst he waited for them to be made, the buzzing of the blender started up.

He looked over at the drinks on the table next to him. The selection of drinks seemed to cover all the colors of the rainbow. A mojito stuffed with green mint, a pale-yellow pina colada crowned with a bright slice of pineapple, a strawberry daiquiri bejeweled with dark red fruits and the orange and red ombre of a tequila sun-rise.

The bartender came back with his drinks. A wide salt-rimmed glass of tried-and-true margarita, and something mysterious topped with half a purple passion-fruit. Now he sat still, the slight movement of his surroundings became more apparent. Nothing seemed stable, and he felt as if his hands were sinking into the table.

“Do you mind if I sit on the end of your table? There’s nowhere else to sit.”

He hadn’t even noticed her approach and tried to find his words. “Oh, yeah. Sure. Yes,” he blabbered. The lady put her laptop on the table and he recognized her peachy-colored blouse and sleek hair from earlier. “You were in the elevator.” He was unsure why he said that and was certain she would be creeped out by him remembering her.

“Oh yeah. Hi. I’m Josie.”

“Nice to meet you. You here on business?” he asked, glancing at the laptop.

“Not exactly.” She didn’t elaborate and ordered a beer from the bartender in perfect Spanish, well he assumed. It sounded perfect.

She pointed at his drinks. “They look nice.”

“Yeah, I thought, when in Rome. Although it feels a bit weird having girl cocktails while you’re having a beer.”

“I don’t subscribe to gendering drinks.” Her face lit up with a smile.

“Well I do. I take it very seriously.”

“Okay then, what gender is a bourbon?”

“Male of course, next.”

“What about a mojito? I know it’s a cocktail but—”

“It’s a tomboy. Next.”

“Cider?”

“Oh, you’re throwing a curve ball in there. Male. Next.”

“But, it’s so sweet.” She looked bemused, but like she was enjoying herself.

“Still male. Next.”

“Wine.”

“Female, obviously. Come on, I’m no rookie, give me a tricky one.”

The bartender arrived with her beer and placed it on the table with a napkin underneath, which soaked up the remnants of previous drinks that had