I stiffly managed my way downstairs into the kitchen, dodging the empty bottles on the stairs and gingerly stepping over Mark who slept on the floor using my old varsity jacket as a pillow, the embroidered script “Nicholas” catching his drool.

The old row house was dark and quiet. The only sounds were the soft snoring in the living room—proof a couple of guys from the neighboring frat were still here—and the low roiling boil of whatever Jake was cooking on the stove.

Through blurry eyes I peered into the pot. It reeked.

“What is this?”

Jake pulled his head out the fridge and carried over a stalk of celery, a half full jar of spaghetti sauce, three plums and a can of sardines.

“Hair of the dog.” Jake’s glasses were askew on is nose and his short black hair stuck straight up. He looked like he’d put a fork in a light socket.

Now I was really confused, the thought of the boiling alcohol made my already queasy stomach roll.

“Trust me, Nick. Me and the guys used to make this after every high school party back in Duluth. It can cure even the worst hangovers.”

Jake cut up the produce and added everything to the pot, along with whatever else was already boiling away in there.

15 mins later he did a quick rinse of the blender that had been out all night with God knows what cocktail residue stuck to it, and dumped the contents of the pot into it.

The sound of the blender woke Mark, who rolled off my jacket and into the living room.

My head was pounding. Jake poured two mugs and handed one to me.

It smelled awful, but at least it wasn’t a thick sludge. More like the consistency of pancake batter but the color of blood. I did not want to drink it.

“Is it supposed to be …uh, smokey like this?”

It was hot, but it wasn’t steaming. There was a lavender colored smoke delicately billowing up from my mug.

Jake examined the contents of his own mug, “Not usually. We didn’t have all the ingredients my parents used to stock their pantry with, so I had to make a few substitutions. I’m sure it’ll work the same though.”

“How do I know this isn’t poisonous?”

“Please, I’m a pre-med major.”

“You’re a veterinary science major.”

“Don’t be such a baby, just pinch your nose and down it.”

I did pinch my nose, and so did Jake. Before I thought better of it, I brought the mug to my mouth and swallowed as much of it as I could. Instantly I felt like I was going to retch it back up but I took a long controlled breath through my nose and willed my stomach to stay strong.

Jake brought the mug to his own mouth, but before he could swallow it one of the frat guys from next door stumbled into the kitchen asking about the bathroom. Jake put his mug down.

His voice sounded far away. A ringing began in my ears. I was watching Jake talk but I couldn’t make out his words. I narrowed in on his lips. It was like watching him through a narrow tunnel. I was very dizzy. My skin began to crawl. I was sweating and freezing at the same time. I needed to get out of there, but knew if I moved an inch I’d pass out. Damn it, Jake really had poisoned me.

Watching Jake’s lips I realized he had turned to face me. He was talking to me now, but it felt like I was underwater. I couldn’t make out what he was saying. I looked into his eyes and saw fear. Then everything went black.

My first thought when I awoke, was how cold I was. Reaching to find my blanket, I got a handful of grass instead. The sunlight was like needles to my eyes. I was in a ditch near a dirt road, naked and covered in blood. All my muscles ached. Did I get hit by a car? What had happened to me? Where was I?

The last thing I remember was being in the kitchen, but that felt like ages ago. Checking myself over, I learned the blood wasn’t mine. Mostly anyway. I had a few cuts and scrapes but nothing major.

With nothing else to do I began walking down the road. A car passed, but not surprisingly it didn’t stop for me. I don’t think I’d stop for a naked bloody guy on the side of the road either. Pretty soon after that though I saw a cop car come over the hill. Thank God.

Two cops got out, guns drawn. “Hands up, lay flat on the ground!”

Scared I did what they said. “I need help. I don’t know what happened to me.”

“You Nicholas Turner?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ve been looking for you.”

“Did Jake call you?”

The two officers exchanged a look.

Somewhere deep in the back of my mind I wondered if Jake thought he’d killed me with that hangover remedy and dumped my body out here to cover it up. But Jake and I had been friends since we met at orientation two years ago. He wasn’t the type to cover up a crime. He would’ve called 911 if he thought I was dying. How did I get so far from campus then?

Instead of calling an ambulance like I thought they would. The cops handcuffed me and threw me in the back of their cruiser.

“You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you—“

“Wait what!?!” Seriously what was going on, “What am I under arrest for? What happened?”

The officer driving spoke, “You’re a sicko, that’s all I’ll say. I’ve been to a lot of scenes, kid, and I’ve never anything as violent and bloody as what you did.”

The lawyer they appointed me finally explained the situation.

“Mr. Turner, you are being accused of the murders of Jacob Anderson and Tyler Brooks,” Jake’s death was too much to process in that moment, my brain completely went numb, “According to witness Mark Rossi, you were in the kitchen with both men when you suddenly and I quote, ‘transformed into a hideous beast like in a horror movie, with fangs and fur and claws and everything, and ripped the guys to shreds’ end quote.”

I could only stare at him.

“They’re charging you with murder 2, since it doesn’t appear to be premeditated. Usually crimes this violent are done in fits of passion. We could argue temporary insanity, but my advice it’s to bargain for a plea deal, see if we can talk them down to murder 3.”

“Did you say ‘transformed’ with fangs and claws?” It sounded like he was describing a werewolf. Was such a thing even possible? What exactly did Jake put in that remedy?