My girlfriend’s childhood best friend heard about my severe arrhythmia and decided to spike my water with a high-caffeine energy drink.

The moment I drank it, my heart exploded into a frantic, hammering rhythm. A cold, sharp pain clenched around my ribs. I fumbled for the single packet of emergency powder I carried, tearing it open, only to find the hot water from the kettle had been replaced with black coffee.

After one desperate gulp, my vision went gray. A chilling numbness spread through my limbs, and I collapsed, unable to move.

Leo threw his head back and laughed until tears streamed down his face.

"You've gotta hand it to you, for an actor, that's convincing," he said, wiping his eyes. "I've been a doctor for a long time. Never seen anyone get this worked up over a Red Bull."

I crawled toward my girlfriend, Chloe, the taste of blood in my mouth from clenching my jaw.

"Chloe, call 911. I'm not kidding. I'm not okay."

She waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, stop. You're taking this too far. It's not funny anymore. Nobody dies from an energy drink."

She gestured toward Leo. "He's a doctor. What could possibly happen with him right here?"

I stopped begging her and sent a single, pre-written emergency text.

1

"What the hell are you doing? It was a joke. Are you really going to leak this to the press?"

Chloe snatched my phone. When she couldn't unlock it, she threw it against the wall, shattering the screen.

By then, my chest was a vise. Black spots danced in my vision. I was on my knees, clutching my heart, pleading with her like a dog.

"I didn't call anyone, Chloe. I really have arrhythmia. Please… call an ambulance."

For a flicker of a second, I saw something shift in her expression—a crease of concern between her brows. But before she could act, Leo pulled her away. He sat back down at the table, legs crossed, and started tapping a wine glass with his fork, a sharp, rhythmic clink, clink, clink.

"Ethan, you're being a real buzzkill," he said, his voice oozing with false sincerity. "Chloe came here tonight to celebrate my promotion. Are you so jealous you have to ruin it for everyone?" He let out a short, cynical laugh. "Some big-shot actor you are. All that talent for faking drama, and you use it for this pathetic crap."

Every breath was a struggle. It felt like a cinder block was sitting on my sternum.

They were inseparable, Chloe and Leo. The kind of childhood best friends that stories are written about. Whenever Chloe and I had a date night, Leo would just… show up. I’d complained, so many times, but she always treated it as perfectly normal.

"Leo is family, Ethan. Don't be so insecure."

Leo would always chime in, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "She's like my sister. I'm just looking out for her, making sure you're good enough."

He said "sister," but when we'd walk through the city, they’d be the ones holding hands, leaving me trailing behind them like a third wheel. Chloe had this thing about germs, a full-blown phobia. She insisted we use serving spoons even for a shared plate of fries. But with Leo? I'd seen them share a single bowl of ramen at a street cart, drink from the same milkshake, his lips touching the straw right after hers.

If I ever showed the slightest hint of annoyance, Leo would mock me for being petty, and Chloe would grow impatient.

Now, Leo squatted down in front of me, a smug, triumphant grin on his face. He patted my cheek, a little too hard.

"I get it now," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You're used to being the star, the center of attention everywhere you go. Tonight's my party, my promotion. Nobody's fawning all over you like your idiot fans, so you had to pull a stunt to get all eyes back on you, right?"

The room erupted in laughter. Phones came out, their lenses pointed at me, capturing my pathetic state on the floor.

"You're embarrassing me," Chloe hissed, stepping away as if I were contaminated.

The pain in my chest was a searing agony. Speaking was a luxury I couldn't afford. I gathered what little strength I had and started crawling toward the door, my only thought to find help.

Leo’s mocking laughter echoed behind me. "What's wrong? I figured out your little game, so now you're running away? Hilarious!"

Another wave of laughter rolled through the private dining room. Chloe’s face was a mask of pure fury.

Just as my fingers brushed the doorframe, Leo grabbed my ankle and yanked me back. My head slammed against the corner of a table, and the world exploded in a flash of white-hot pain.

"See, Chloe? This is what men are like," Leo said, his voice loud for everyone to hear. "You gotta get them trained before the wedding, or you'll be miserable." He looked around at his friends. "Guys, we're here for her. Let's help her put him in his place."

He dropped my leg, and I crumpled to the floor like a sack of garbage.

Chloe stared down at me, her face cold. She nudged me with the toe of her designer heel. "Get up. Stop making a fool of yourself."

Then, she froze.

She must have finally noticed the unnatural pallor of my skin, the sheen of cold sweat that soaked my shirt.

Before she could process it, Leo stepped in. "Waiter! Another one of those energy drinks! The high-octane one!" He grabbed the can, and without a word, forced it to my lips, pouring the icy liquid down my throat.

"It's hot in here," he announced to the room. "Poor guy's been acting his heart out on the floor. A cold drink will fix him right up."

In that instant, a terrifying, primal sense of death washed over me. My heart wasn't just beating; it was vibrating, a violent tremor that shook my entire upper body. My mouth fell open as I gasped for air, a horrifying rattling sound coming from my throat.

The mood in the room shifted. I saw it on their faces. The laughter died, replaced by wide, fearful eyes. They all took a step back.

"Is he… is he for real?" someone whispered.

Chloe stood frozen, trembling from head to toe.

2

"Ethan?" she called out, her voice a shaky whisper. She took a tentative step toward me.

Leo blocked her path, laughing. He pulled out his phone and found a video. "Ah, I knew this scene looked familiar! Turns out he played a character with arrhythmia in some old TV show." He held the phone up for everyone to see. "Look at that. He's got the method down perfectly. A master class in acting."

The color drained from Chloe's face. Her eyes, now sharp and filled with rage, shot toward me. She slammed her hand on the table.

"Ethan, are you done? This whole night is for Leo! He's about to be chief resident! Can't you just let him have this one thing?"

I was on the floor, my features twisted in agony. I couldn't have answered her if I wanted to. My consciousness was fraying at the edges.

"You!" she seethed, consumed by her own humiliation. She grabbed a glass of whiskey from the table and shoved it in front of my face. "Get up and toast Leo. Now. Apologize to him."

Leo, playing his part, downed his own glass in one go. He crouched beside me, his voice a low, condescending lecture.

"Come on, Ethan. I finished my drink. If you don't drink yours, you're the one being rude. Don't be such a sore loser." He paused, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Oh, right. You're busy with your performance. Don't worry. I'll help."

He refilled my glass to the brim with straight whiskey. A few of his friends, catching his drift, moved in and pried my mouth open.

"Mmmph—!"

I struggled, but it was useless. I watched, helpless, as he poured the entire glass of burning liquid down my throat.

The fire hit my stomach, and a wave of numbness spread through me. My heart, already in overdrive, felt like it was going to beat its way out of my chest. A searing tightness gripped my lungs, and for the first time, I felt the terrifying sensation of suffocation.

My eyes widened in panic, begging Chloe for help.

"Save… me…"

She glanced at me with utter contempt. "It's one drink. Are you serious? Leo's a doctor. Don't you think he knows what he's doing?"

She turned away from me, picking up another glass to toast Leo herself. "Leo, he's being childish. Don't mind him. This one's for you."

One of their friends intervened. "Chloe, a girl like you shouldn't be drinking. Let your boyfriend take it for you."

All eyes turned to me, their expressions dripping with disappointment, as if I were still just putting on a show.

Leo chuckled, coming to my "rescue." "Let's give him a break. He's already committed so much to the role. Another drink and he'll have to play dead, right?" He turned to Chloe, his voice dropping into an intimate murmur. "Same as always, Chloe. I'll drink for you. But tonight, let's try something new."

He took her hand, his thumb stroking her knuckles as he brought the glass to her lips.

Their friends started cheering. "Drink! Drink! Drink!"

Flushing, Chloe took a small sip. The next second, Leo’s hand was on the back of her head, and he was kissing her, hard, his mouth claiming the whiskey from hers. She didn't struggle. She melted into him, her eyes closing in surrender. When they finally broke apart, a thin, glistening thread of saliva connected their lips.

Something inside me turned to ash.

Through the fog of my fading consciousness, I saw the torn foil packet of my medication near Leo's foot. There was still some powder inside. A desperate, primal urge to survive took over, and I started dragging myself toward it.

Just as my fingers were about to touch the packet, his shoe came down, grinding it into the floor.

"Well, well. You were on death's door a second ago," he shouted, making sure everyone could hear. "But the moment you see me and Chloe together, you're suddenly cured. Your jealousy is stronger than your 'heart condition,' huh?"

"Ethan, you are such a disappointment," Chloe said, not even bothering to look at me as she turned her back.

Leo seized his chance. He grabbed a handful of my hair, pulling my head back. His smile was pure poison.

"That arrhythmia must feel like hell right now," he whispered, his voice a venomous hiss meant only for me. "Don't worry. It's about to get a whole lot worse."

3

His eyes turned vicious. He grabbed a wine glass from the table and smashed it against the edge, leaving a jagged, glittering shard in his hand. He lunged, aiming the sharp point at my neck.

A jolt of pure terror shot through me. This wasn't a joke anymore. This was murder.

I grabbed his wrist with everything I had, twisting and dodging as the glass point sliced through the air next to my face. The commotion finally caught Chloe’s attention. Just as she and the others started to turn, Leo changed his tactic. He grabbed an empty wine bottle and brought it crashing down on my head, along with the broken glass in his other hand.

Sharp edges tore through the skin on my face, carving a path through flesh and muscle.

"Ahhh!" I screamed, a raw, animal sound as pain exploded across my face and radiated through my entire body.

"Ethan, you're insane!" Leo yelled, putting on a show for the others. "When faking a seizure didn't work on Chloe, you decided to smash a bottle on your own head?"

As I feared, Chloe bought it completely. She pushed through the crowd and when she saw my blood-streaked face, her eyes widened in shock.

"Ethan… Ethan, I'll take you to the hospital!" She fumbled for her car keys on the table, her face a mask of grim determination.

Leo intercepted her, quick as a snake. He hid the bloody shard of glass behind his back and pointed to the intact wine bottle on the floor.

"Chloe, look. The bottle isn't even broken. That 'blood' on his face is just stage blood. Every actor has a bottle of that hyper-realistic stuff."

Chloe’s gaze flickered from my face to the unbroken bottle on the floor. The flicker of concern in her eyes vanished, replaced by an arctic coldness. Any trace of worry she’d felt was gone.

"Don't worry," Leo said with a malicious grin. "I know how to clean him up."

He dragged me into the restaurant's back kitchen and threw me into a large, stainless-steel basin filled with what looked like industrial-grade grain alcohol for infusions. The clear liquid washed over the open wounds on my face, and the pain was so intense it stole my breath. It was like being flayed alive with a thousand tiny knives. The harsh fumes filled my lungs, and a new wave of dizziness and nausea crashed over me, making my heart pound even more erratically.

I thrashed wildly in the basin, convinced I was about to die.

"Heh. You were on your last breath a minute ago," Leo's chilling voice echoed from above me. "Look at you now. Plenty of fight left in you."

Before I could react, he shoved my head under the surface of the alcohol.

"Let's get you sobered up," he snarled. "So you don't come out and ruin Chloe's night again."

Through the blurry, stinging liquid, I thought I saw Chloe turn away in disgust, as if the mere sight of me was offensive to her.

My heart felt like it was going to explode. The terror was absolute. I clawed at the sides of the basin, trying to scream, but my throat was seared by the high-proof alcohol. All I tasted was the metallic tang of blood.

"Gah—" I coughed, spitting out a mouthful of bloody liquid, and finally managed a weak, raspy sound.

"Leo… My father… is the dean of your hospital. He'll kill you for this."

He just laughed, a mocking, incredulous sound. "Finally dropped the act, have we? Started telling fairy tales? You're an actor because you have a pretty face, nothing more. Don't start thinking you're actually important." He leaned in closer. "The dean of our hospital is Alistair Finch. He's a legend, one of the most powerful men in the city. I'm one of the few residents who can even get a meeting with him. You just got lucky enough to have the same last name. Wake up. If you were a Finch, I'd cut my own head off and let you kick it like a soccer ball."

The onlookers snickered. Chloe’s expression was sour, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes filled with undisguised contempt.

"Have some dignity, Ethan," she snapped. "If you keep spouting this nonsense, we're done."

My limbs were growing stiff. Through the doorway, I caught a glimpse of a familiar figure in the hall. My eyes, stinging with alcohol and tears, widened. I tried to call out.

"Help… me…"

Leo roared with laughter. "Who's going to save you? Your legions of brain-dead fans?"

The whole group was laughing so hard they were crying now. Fueled by alcohol and mob mentality, they all moved in, holding my head underwater.

My world went quiet. My blood pressure skyrocketed. My mind went blank. I had no strength left to fight. My body went limp.

Just as I thought it was all over, the door to the kitchen burst open with a deafening crash, followed by a roar of pure, unadulterated fury.

"You are all dead."