Wish
It’s adrenaline that makes me begin rowing.
I get close enough to the Level Zero Island but as soon as I cross it, the fog becomes thick. My hands are damp, and my arms are throbbing as I push the oar, hoping to make it to the mainland.
Whatever this place is, I want no part of it.
As I keep rowing, I recall the scar on the wolf’s head and the scar on Veronica’s head.
I want to tell myself that I’m imagining things, but there are too many coincidences here, too many things which don’t match up. And the more I think about them, the more I get a headache.
Bab Populer