I***a-Worthy Lies & Spiked Sips

The night of the engagement party was exactly as extra as I’d expected. Our family’s penthouse, which usually felt huge, was packed with people who all looked like they’d stepped out of a luxury brand’s ad campaign. Mom was in her element, gliding around like a celebrity host, making sure everyone’s champagne flute was topped off and that the DJ was playing the "right kind" of chill electronic music. Everything was perfectly curated for maximum Instagrammability.

Hailey, naturally, was the queen of the night. She was wearing some ridiculously expensive designer dress that shimmered every time she moved, and her hair and makeup were flawless, probably thanks to the glam squad she’d had over earlier. Dylan stood beside her, looking incredibly handsome in a tailored suit, but also a little like he was just trying to keep up with Hailey’s high-energy sparkle. They posed for endless photos, Hailey’s smile perfectly dazzling, Dylan’s a bit more reserved. #EngagementGoals, I could almost hear the captions being typed.

And me? I was Skye, the awkward older sister, trying to blend into the background. I’d actually worn the blue dress Hailey had picked out. It wasn’t terrible, but it felt too tight, too fussy, too… not me. I was clutching a glass of sparkling water with a sad-looking lime wedge, feeling like an alien at my own sister’s party. My phone buzzed in my clutch – probably just another notification from one of my art forums. I ignored it. My stomach was already twisted into a tight knot, and it wasn’t just the usual social anxiety. That bad feeling about Hailey hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had gotten stronger. She’d been way too nice to me all week, asking about my classes, complimenting my latest digital painting. It was classic Hailey behavior before she dropped some kind of bomb.

I found a relatively quiet spot by the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, trying to look like I was admiring the view instead of just hiding. From there, I had a clear view of Hailey, effortlessly charming everyone, her hand possessively on Dylan’s arm. Every so often, her eyes would flick over to me, a quick, unreadable glance, before she’d turn back to her adoring fans. Each look felt like she was checking to make sure I was still in my corner, out of her way.

After what felt like an eternity of trying to look casual while internally freaking out, Hailey suddenly materialized in front of me. Her smile was blinding. She was holding two sleek, modern-looking glasses – one with champagne, the other with a vibrant, pink-colored drink that looked like some kind of fancy mocktail.

“Skye! There you are, hiding in the shadows again!” she chirped, her voice sugary sweet. “You look a little stressed. Everything okay?”

I was instantly on high alert. Hailey, coming to check on me? During her party? Something was up. “Yeah, I’m fine, Hailey. Just… you know. Big crowd.”

“I know, right? It’s totally overwhelming,” she said, actually sounding like she understood. Which was even more suspicious. “Here.” She held out the glass with the pink drink. “I had the bartender whip up something special for you. Totally alcohol-free. Figured you could use something to help you chill and actually enjoy the party for once.”

I hesitated. My internal warning system was screaming. This was too nice. Too specific. But what could I do? Everyone was milling around. Making a scene by refusing a drink from my sister, the bride-to-be, at her own engagement party? Mom would literally self-destruct. And Hailey would spin it to make me look like the ungrateful, paranoid older sister.

“Oh. Um, thanks, Hailey,” I said, forcing a smile and taking the glass. Her own smile widened, a little too much.

“Cheers, sis!” she said, tapping her champagne glass against mine. “To new beginnings, and all that.” She took a delicate sip of her champagne, her eyes, bright and almost feverish, locked on me over the rim of her glass.

I managed a weak smile back and took a small sip of the pink drink. It tasted good – fruity, a little tangy, with a nice fizz. Nothing seemed obviously wrong with it. Maybe I was just overthinking things. Maybe, just maybe, Hailey was actually trying to be a decent sister for five minutes.

We stood there for a moment, Hailey making small talk about some influencer drama I didn’t care about. I just nodded and made vague agreement noises, trying to act normal, but the uneasy feeling in my gut was coiling tighter. After a couple of minutes, she declared she had to go "work the room." “Drink up, Skye! Don’t let that pretty drink go to waste!” she called out as she disappeared back into the throng.

Alone again, I took another sip of the drink. And then another. It was actually pretty refreshing, and my throat was dry from nerves. Within ten minutes, most of it was gone.

That’s when my head started to feel… fuzzy.

The trendy electronic music seemed to pulse weirdly, sometimes too loud, sometimes fading out. The perfectly dimmed lights started to get blurry around the edges, and the voices of the guests sounded like they were coming from far away, like an echo chamber. I pressed my fingers to my temples. I felt strangely light, almost like I was floating, but at the same time, my legs felt heavy, like I was wading through water.

What is happening to me? I thought, a sudden wave of dizziness making me sway. I never felt like this. Was I getting sick?

I looked around for Hailey, for Mom, for anyone, but the room was starting to spin gently. I needed to sit down. Badly. My head was beginning to ache, a dull, heavy pressure building behind my eyes.

Just as I was desperately scanning for an empty chair, Hailey was there, right beside me, her face a perfect picture of concern. “Skye? Oh my god, you look terrible! Are you okay?” Her voice sounded distorted, like it was coming through a bad phone connection.

“I… I don’t know,” I managed to get out, my tongue feeling thick and uncooperative. “Dizzy… really dizzy…”

“You poor thing!” Hailey exclaimed, her voice dripping with fake sympathy that, even in my fogged state, I could recognize. She put an arm around my waist, her grip surprisingly firm. “You just need to lie down. Too much going on. Come on, there’s a quiet guest suite downstairs you can use. You can just crash for a bit.”

I leaned against her, too out of it to argue or even really process what was happening. All I knew was that I felt awful, and lying down in a quiet room sounded like the best idea ever. Hailey practically steered me out of the crowded living area, through a less crowded hallway, and towards the elevator that went down to the guest suites on the lower floor of our triplex penthouse.

Every movement felt like it was happening in slow motion. My vision was blurry. Hailey kept saying things like, “Hang in there, Skye,” and “You’ll feel better once you lie down.” But her voice had a weird, tight edge to it now, something that definitely wasn’t concern. Or maybe my brain was just playing tricks on me.

She swiped a key card at one of the doors, and it beeped open. The suite was dark, the blackout curtains drawn. It smelled faintly of something clean, like hotel laundry, and… something else. A sharp, masculine scent. Cologne. Not Dylan’s usual scent, though. This was different.

“Here we go,” Hailey whispered, guiding me towards a huge bed that I could barely make out in the dimness. “Just get some rest. I’ll come check on you later, okay?”

I practically collapsed onto the mattress. My body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. The sheets were cool against my skin. I was so, so tired. My eyelids felt like they had weights on them.

“Hailey?” I mumbled, trying to make my eyes focus on her shadowy figure. “What… what was in that drink?”

I thought I heard her laugh, a low, satisfied little sound, but it was hard to tell. “Just something to help you unwind, sweetie. Now get some sleep.”

The door clicked shut, and the room was plunged into almost complete darkness. I was alone.

Or was I?

A tiny sound from the other side of the bed. A slow, even breath. Not mine. Someone else was here. In the dark. My heart, which had been beating like a sluggish drum, suddenly kicked into overdrive, pounding with a fear so intense it made me gasp. I tried to sit up, to scream, but my body wouldn’t respond. My voice was gone.

A dark shape moved on the far side of the bed. A sleepy groan. The smell of that unfamiliar cologne was stronger now, mixed with the definite scent of expensive whiskey. Terror, pure and icy, cut through the drug-induced haze.

No… this isn’t… Hailey… what did you DO?

My last coherent thought was a silent, desperate plea as the world tilted and went black.