“We need to find out what they are putting in my IV.”

“Every time they inject me, my head grows heavy, and my limbs feel like lead.”

“I can barely fight through the fog.”

I looked at the silver tray Dr. Phillips had left on the side table.

He had left behind a small, discarded plastic wrapper and an empty glass vial.

I picked up the vial, looking at the faded label.

“I will find out,” I promised Ethan.

I walked over to the medical cabinet in the corner of the room.

Normally, the nurse kept the medical charts in the top drawer.

I opened it quietly, my hands trembling as I searched through the folders.

I found a thick binder labeled with Ethan’s patient ID.

I flipped through the pages, looking for the daily medication log.

My eyes scanned the handwritten entries, tracking the daily dosages.

Three days ago, the handwriting changed.

A different medication name was scrawled in red ink next to the standard sedative.

I squinted at the chemical name, my heart skipping a beat.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket to search the term.