When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was the silence. Not the peaceful kind. The kind that feels like a room holding its breath in a horror movie. His head throbbed faintly. Not enough to be painful. Just enough to make his thoughts feel a half-second behind where they should be. He blinked at the ceiling. Someone had drawn little stars on it in silver marker. He remembered laughing about that earlier in the night. Or maybe it had been someone else laughing.

  Memory felt slippery. He turned his head slowly. The apartment's living room looked like the aftermath of a party that had burned itself out hours ago. Plastic cups are all over the kitchen counter. A half-empty bottle was tipped on its side near the edge of the sink. A blanket halfway on the couch. And someone under it. His stomach tightened.

  It was her. One of his friends. Or… he thought she was. She was still asleep. Completely out. One arm hanging loosely over the edge of the couch like gravity had just forgotten to finish the job.

  “Hey?” he said quietly. No response. His throat felt extremely dry. He pushed himself up too fast, and the room tilted slightly. He grabbed the edge of the table until it steadied again. Pieces of the night flickered in and out of his mind like broken frames of film.

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  Loud music. Louder laughing. Louder still, a drunken dare.

  Someone saying, “You’re just scared.” Another voice saying, “Relax! It’s just an experiment.”

  He rubbed his face hard.

  “Hey,” he said again, louder this time. Still nothing. The unease started as something small. Just a faint pressure at the base of his ribs. He walked into the kitchen for water.

  That’s when he saw the phone on the counter. Not his. The screen lit up when he picked it up. A paused video. His reflection stared back at him from the dark screen. Pale white and extremely confused. Under the video thumbnail was a message notification: ‘Told you! The right woman could fix him!’

  The air in the room felt suddenly thin. His thumb hovered over the screen but didn’t move. Because somewhere in the back of his mind, something ugly was starting to take shape. A bleak memory trying to surface.

  Laughter that sounded sinister. A camera pointed in his direction. Someone saying:

  “See? Not so gay after all!”

  His hand started shaking. Across the room, his friend on the couch still hadn’t moved. He stared at the phone for a long time before finally pressing play. But even before the video began, he already knew one thing with absolute certainty.

  If the recording was real…

  The people he had trusted most in that room hadn’t just crossed a line. They had erased it.