Nadia
The bouncer at the entrance of the bar raised a curious eyebrow at my torn clothes and the blood on them, but he didn’t stop me from going in.
Which said a lot about the place.
Hell’s Mouth was exactly as I remembered it before there was a blank space in my memories from Friday night. The air inside was thick, full of cigarette and m*******a smoke. The smell of alcohol was heavy and dense, soaked into the red walls.
People’s eyes were fixed on glasses, bottles, cigarettes burning between their fingers. The clientele was exactly the kind of people you would imagine frequenting a decaying roadside bar. A jukebox was playing an old rock song from the 80s, the kind of music my father liked to listen to while driving.
However, I knew there was another part of that bar. Darker and mor
