Christine swiped through her phone, hunched over her dresser. Makeup tools were arranged neatly on top, with a mirror hanging on the wall in front of her. Her eyes skimmed through posts and memes about me, Therapyne, and Theo.
Her feed was flooded with Therapyne worshippers and internet doctors explaining how Therapyne supposedly worked in the human brain. Conspiracy theorists all over the internet were saying things about Therapyne I doubted even they believed were accurate, but, as always, no one really cared—they watched for fun and laughs.
It was clear Christine had been doing a ton of research.
"This s**t is everywhere," she sighed. She turned off her phone and lifted her gaze to the mirror. Another sigh escaped her as she stared into her own oak-brown eyes. She wore a brow
