My neighbor’s hand had just been severed by the elevator door, and she was screaming at my doorstep, begging for help. I was on my knees, reaching for the plastic bag to help her preserve the severed limb, when a scrolling feed of glowing text suddenly flashed across my field of vision. It looked exactly like a live-stream chat overlay, hovering in the air. [DON’T PICK UP THAT SEVERED HAND! DON’T TOUCH IT!] [She chose you on purpose! The moment you lay a finger on that hand, she’ll blame you for any complications that happen down the road!] [You’re the ultimate fall guy she handpicked out of this entire building!] [Nicholas had it so rough in the original timeline. Not only did she sue him for every penny and organize a massive cyberbullying campaign against him, but she used her ruined hand as an excuse to leech off him forever. She literally drove him to jump off a building.] My hand began to shake violently. I snatched my fingers back and stood up. The floating text froze for a fraction of a second, then went absolutely wild. [Yes! Get the hell out of there!] [Martina has a dozen relatives hiding in her apartment right now, just waiting for you to take the bait.] What? At that last sentence, a chill shot down my spine. I backed into my apartment and slammed the door shut. To hell with playing the hero. 1. My hand was trembling so hard I could barely lock the door. Martina Hobbs was right outside, covered in blood. The moment the door clicked shut, the frantic begging on her face hardened into something cold and rigid. She clutched her bleeding wrist, her body shaking as she screamed through the wood. “Nicholas! What the hell are you doing?!” “We’re neighbors! How can you just leave me here to die? My hand is still stuck in the elevator! Aren’t you going to help me get it?!” Her voice cracked, slipping back into a desperate, pathetic wail. “I’m begging you, Nicholas. Just give me some ice. At least give me enough ice to keep it cold until I get to the ER.” For a split second, guilt gnawed at my chest. I reached for the deadbolt. But the moment my fingers brushed the metal, the floating text flared up again, glowing a harsh, warning red. [Don’t fall for it!] [She’s only crying to manipulate Nicholas into touching the severed limb!] [The injury wasn’t even an accident—she brought it on herself. The Hobbs family was having a massive party today. She got wasted, threw a violent tantrum in the elevator, and got her hand caught. Now they just need a scapegoat to cover the medical bills!] [Don’t even give her ice. There are no security cameras in this part of the hallway. She’s trying to force her way inside!] [Exactly! Her own apartment is literally right next door. Why doesn’t she get her own ice?] My breath caught in my throat. My hand froze. [Besides, Martina has over ten people hiding in her living room right now.] [Why is she only knocking on your door?] Ten people? My heart hammered against my ribs as I took a slow step backward. The color completely drained from my face. Just a minute ago, when I had first opened the door, I had caught a fleeting glimpse of the shoe rack outside Martina’s apartment. It had been piled high with extra footwear—heavy men’s sneakers, women’s heels, and even a couple of pairs of children’s boots. Smash. A muffled sound of breaking glass echoed from the balcony next door, followed by a man’s hushed, urgent voice trying to quiet someone down. “Shh! Keep it down! Don’t let the neighbors hear you!” “Be quiet!” A child’s soft whimper was abruptly cut off, and the balcony fell dead silent again. A cold sweat broke out across my neck. The floating chat was telling the truth. Martina was claiming she was home alone and helpless. But if she was out here bleeding in the hallway, who were the people hiding inside her apartment? She was lying. The entire thing was a trap. “Nicholas, open the door!” The frantic pounding continued, but I only felt a profound sense of relief. Why would she bypass a house full of her own relatives to beg a single, male neighbor for help? The realization made my blood run cold. “I can’t help you,” I called out, raising my voice so it would carry through the heavy door. “I have severe hemophobia. I faint at the sight of blood. I’m calling 911 for you right now!” The moment the word 911 left my mouth, the hallway went dead silent. After a tense pause of several seconds, the doorknob began to rattle violently. Martina’s voice returned, laced with a sharp, panicky edge. “No need! I already called them!” “I just need you to get the hand for me! Please, just open the door!” As the handle shook under her desperate attempts, the floating text began to scream in capital letters. [NO! NICK, HOLD THE LINE!] [Don’t let her in! Just hold out until the paramedics arrive. Martina won’t be able to last long anyway!] Minute after agonizing minute ticked by. Martina’s face through my peephole looked monstrous, her features twisting in rage. She began throwing her body against the door, but I breathed a small sigh of relief. Martina is panicking. A severed limb needs to be iced and prepped for surgery within a golden window of thirty minutes. I remodeled my condo two years ago and put in a reinforced steel door. In her weakened state, she had no hope of breaking it down. Sure enough, the pounding stopped after a few minutes. But a second later, a familiar male voice echoed from the hallway. “What is going on out here?” My heart stopped. It was Cody Jenkins, the kid who rented the apartment on the other side of my unit. He was a recent college grad who had just started working in the city. He occasionally came over to borrow household tools, and I had always tried to be a good neighbor to him. Thinking of the blood and the severed hand outside, my eyes went wide. I scrambled to grab my phone, intending to text him to get back inside and lock his door. “What?!” Before I could even unlock my screen, Cody’s voice escalated into a dramatic, self-righteous shout. “We’re all neighbors here! How could Nicholas just lock his door and leave you to die?!” “This is sick!” My chest tightened as I listened to them murmuring outside. Suddenly, the floating chat erupted into a solid wall of exclamation marks. [IT’S OVER!] Outside, Cody’s eyes scanned the hallway before he bent down and slipped his hand under my welcome mat. “Don’t worry,” Cody said loudly. “I know where he keeps his spare key.” The sound of metal sliding into the lock sent a physical jolt of terror straight through my chest. 2. “Nicholas, you liar!” The door swung open, and Martina lunged into my entryway, her eyes gleaming with a strange, predatory light. She collapsed onto the hardwood floor, clutching her bleeding arm and rolling around in theatrical agony. “You left me out there! You delayed my medical treatment!” “If I lose my hand, you’re going to be held fully responsible!” Responsible? I looked down at her, my expression hardening as the warnings from the floating chat echoed in my mind. “Your injury has nothing to do with me,” I said, my voice deadpan. “Whether I choose to help you is my decision. And I decline.” Her agonizing wails cut off instantly. She stared up at me, her eyes wide with sheer disbelief. “You decline?!” Finding herself rejected so bluntly, Martina’s pale face tightened. She lowered her voice, a desperate, calculating look flashing in her eyes. “Nicholas, I didn’t just knock on your door for no reason!” She pointed a trembling, bloody finger at me. “You’re not afraid of blood. You were a licensed doctor for five years! How could you possibly have hemophobia?!” My survival instincts flared. A cold sweat broke out across my forehead. I had never told a single soul in this building about my medical background before I transitioned into corporate consulting. How could she possibly know? But the answer presented itself immediately. “That’s right, Nick,” Cody chimed in, stepping into my entryway with a smug grin. “I saw your board certification plaque on your bookshelf when I borrowed your vacuum last week. Doctors take an oath to save lives. How could you lie to her?” “Good thing I remembered and told her!” Cody’s words felt like a physical blow. My head spun. He rolled his eyes at me, completely ignoring the betrayal of my privacy. “Come on, Nick, save her!” “Yes, please!” Martina pleaded, her eyes darting around my apartment, searching for any leverage. The floating chat was exploding now. [Holy crap, where did this Cody guy come from?!] [What a saint. If he’s so damn noble, why doesn’t he save her himself?] [First Martina, now Cody helping her corner him. Nicholas is completely trapped!] [He’s doing this on purpose. He wants the drama.] When I didn’t move, Martina’s expression shifted from desperation to outright hostility. Cody was even faster, covering his mouth in exaggerated horror. “Nick, are you seriously going to let her bleed out in front of you?” “How can you be so heartless? I’m going to put this online and expose you!” His chest heaving with simulated righteous fury, Cody pulled out his phone and pointed the camera directly at my face. “Look at all this blood! If she dies or ends up permanently disabled because of you, what then?!” Martina caught the cue. “Nicholas, please! How much money do you want? I’ll pay you! Just help me prep the hand so the doctors can sew it back on!” “Please!” With a wet thud, Martina dropped heavily to her knees on my floor. “I’m begging you!” The loud commotion had begun to draw other residents from the elevator. Seeing the smear of blood in the hallway and the towel-covered shape on the elevator floor, several people gasped. Cody rolled his eyes at me, his phone held high to capture the crowd’s reaction. “Nick, I thought you were a decent guy, but you’re a monster. Making a bleeding woman kneel and beg just to get a little help. Have you no shame?” “How did someone like you ever become a doctor?” His eyes were red, his voice shaking with a performance of pure moral outrage as he turned his camera back and forth between me and the kneeling woman. The gathering crowd began to whisper loudly. “What? He’s a trained professional and he’s just watching?” “Is he even human?” “So cold-hearted. If he won’t do it, we should!” As the murmurs grew louder, Martina subtly glanced toward her own apartment door. I caught the signal. [Watch out! Martina is calling in her reinforcements!] The floating chat flashed a warning. A second later, Martina’s apartment door flew open, and a small mob of people spilled into the hallway, pushing through the onlookers. “It’s him! He’s the one stalling! He’s trying to kill her!” “If anything happens to our Martina, you’re paying for it with your life!” The relatives, who had been waiting in ambush next door, swarmed my entryway. Martina’s older brother, Greg, led the pack, dragging a crying child with him and pushing the kid to the floor to add to the chaos. They screamed about my “cruelty” and “lack of humanity.” “He’s a cold-blooded animal! Why won’t he help?” “It’s just a simple favor! It wouldn’t kill him!” “Exactly!” Cody chimed in, crossing his arms and nodding along. The crowd’s glares grew heavier, pointing fingers and shouting insults. Martina remained on the floor, her face growing paler from the blood loss, saying nothing but letting her family do the dirty work. I took a deep, steadying breath. “I really can’t help her,” I said loudly, holding my hands up. “I don’t have the training for this.” I reached over to my entryway shelf, grabbed my old framed certificate, and turned it toward the crowd. As they squinted to read the bold, gold lettering, the shouting gradually died down. I looked at Martina, my voice incredibly calm. “I was a urologist.” The entryway fell into absolute, dead silence. 3. “I don’t care what kind of doctor you are!” Greg roared, his face turning red. “A doctor is a doctor, even if you’re a… a what? A urologist?!” I pointed directly to the specialized text on the board certification: Specializing in Male Reconstructive Urology and Sexual Medicine. Someone in the back of the crowd snorted, trying to muffle a laugh. “Alright, look,” a neighbor murmured from the hallway. “If we’re dealing with a retired dick doctor, why are we wasting time badgering him? We need to get her to the ER!” “Yeah, if they don’t get that hand to the hospital soon, they won’t be able to reattach it. Call an ambulance!” “If they leave now, they might still make it.” The crowd’s sentiment was shifting. Cody, seeing his viral stream losing its dramatic villain, quickly lowered his phone and stepped forward, panic in his eyes. “Wait! Even if the ambulance gets here, it takes time!” “The most important thing is preserving the severed hand right now. It’s eighty-five degrees outside today. Is Nicholas just going to let it rot on the elevator floor?!” The hand was still sitting under a blood-stained towel in the elevator. Martina shuddered, her eyes darting to Cody as she realized her window was closing. She scrambled off the floor and lunged at me like a feral animal. “You have to preserve my hand! You spent five years in medicine, you must know how to do that!” The floating chat flashed frantically in front of my face. [MOVE! Don’t let her touch you!] [She’s going to frame you the second she makes contact!] Without thinking, I took a massive step back, completely clearing her path. But Martina didn’t stop her forward momentum. In the split second before she hit the floor, I caught a brief, chilling smirk on her face. Oh, no. She shut her eyes and collapsed heavily onto my hardwood floor, completely limp. “She fainted from blood loss!” Cody shrieked, his camera instantly locked onto my face. Martina’s relatives erupted into fury, pointing and screaming. “If she dies in your apartment, we’re suing you for murder!” The chat was scrolling so fast it was almost a blur. [She is determined to pin this on you. If she has to die to do it, she’ll die in your living room.] [Martina is actually losing too much blood. The hand is reaching its expiration limit.] I didn’t have much time. Greg was sobbing theatrically, wiping fake tears while peeking at me through his fingers. The neighbors were staring at me with disgust. I took a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll help.” The relatives instantly looked pleased. But before they could speak, I pulled out my phone, searched for a medical infographic, and sent it directly to Cody. “This is the standard medical procedure for preserving a severed limb. Since you’re so passionate about justice and saving lives… I’m sure you won’t mind doing it yourself.” Cody’s smug grin froze. Before the family could react, I turned my own phone camera on him. “I’m livestreaming your heroic act to my followers right now. Show them how it’s done.” The hallway went dead silent. Cody’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. [Holy crap, the plot twist!] [Nicholas just Uno-reversed Cody!] [Is Martina’s plan about to blow up in her face?] I felt a surge of relief, but then Cody swallowed hard and forced a smile. “Sure! I’ll do it!” My chest tightened. The floating chat flashed a single, ominous line. [It’s not going to be that easy.] [Nicholas, you just walked right into their trap!] Cody turned toward my kitchen, his voice dripping with false humility. “Everyone watching, you heard him. Dr. Campbell gave me the instructions, and he’s providing the materials. If anything goes wrong, it has nothing to do with me.” He grabbed a clean Tupperware container from my counter, ran out to the elevator, and picked up the severed hand. He looked back at me, his eyes gleaming with sheer malice. “I won’t take credit for your medical advice, Nick.” My stomach dropped. The neighbors began to cheer. “Just save her! With so many witnesses, nothing can go wrong!” “Even if it does, it’s not Cody’s fault!” Greg sneered at me, crossing his arms. “Exactly. My sister fainted in Nicholas’s apartment, and he’s the medical authority dictating the procedure. Cody’s just the hands. If anything goes wrong, we know who to blame.” They still wanted to pin it on me. “Wait, Nicholas!” Cody shouted from the kitchen. “Why isn’t there any ice in your freezer?!” “How are we supposed to keep the hand cold?!” The neighbors suggested asking other residents for ice, but Greg immediately shot it down. “No! We can only use what’s in Nicholas’s house, otherwise…” He bit his lip, realizing he had almost said too much. Cody’s eyes scanned my kitchen, landing on a shelf near the sink where I kept a few bottles of sterile saline solution for my contact lenses. “Wait!” Cody yelled, his face lighting up. “No ice, but we have sterile saline! Perfect!” The Hobbs family cheered. The chat wailed in despair. [Oh no… Nicholas still couldn’t escape it.] [You can’t save stupid.] [This is awful.] But when I heard the words sterile saline, my eyes went wide. “No! Stop!” 4. The color drained from my face. I raised my voice, shouting at him. “You have to follow the diagram I sent you! Do not change the protocol!” “Don’t touch those bottles!” Ignoring the blood, I lunged toward Cody to grab the container from his hands. He flinched, nearly dropping it as I tackled him. “Look at him! He’s panicking!” Cody screamed to the crowd, backing away with a look of pure disgust. “He doesn’t want her hand saved! He’s trying to sabotage the rescue!” He pointed at my phone screen. “The diagram he sent me was just a random Google image search! It has a watermark on it! He’s trying to kill her career!” “Get away from him!” Before I could reach Cody, Greg stepped in. SLAP! A heavy hand struck my left cheek, sending a blinding flash of pain through my jaw. My ears rang, and for a second, I couldn’t hear anything but a high-pitched whine. When I recovered, Martina’s relatives were standing in a defensive wall in front of Cody, glaring at me like wolves. “What are you trying to do, Nicholas? Stall until she’s crippled?!” “If Martina loses her hand because of your interference, we will sue you into bankruptcy!” “You want to stop us? Try it in court!” The neighbors in the hallway began to murmur in agreement. “Don’t let him ruin it!” “He sent a fake picture just to cover his own ass! He’s trying to sabotage her!” “He just wants to watch her suffer! Cody, put the hand in!” Cody shot me a triumphant smirk. Ignoring my warnings, he poured the sterile saline directly into the container, submerging Martina’s severed hand completely in the liquid. “Nice try, Nick,” Cody sneered. “Saline is sterile. It kills bacteria and keeps tissue clean. It’s the perfect preservation fluid. And you were trying to hide it from us!” “You’re sick!” Cody’s livestream was still running, and the viewers were eating up his heroic performance. The crowd’s anger boiled over. “Beat him! He’s a psychopath!” Greg yelled, throwing the first punch. The relatives swarmed me, fists and feet raining down on my head and torso. I curled into a tight ball on the floor, protecting my vitals, my scalp stinging as someone ripped at my hair. The chat continued to scroll frantically. [This is horrific. Nicholas is still getting ruined.] [Cody is going to go viral for ‘saving’ her, and Nicholas is going to be completely destroyed online.] [The Hobbs family is like a pack of parasites. Once they latch on, they’ll drain him dry.] [Nicholas is dead meat.] [+1] [+10086] Dead meat? I took a heavy blow to my temple, warm blood trickling down my face and blurring my vision. But as I watched Cody seal the Tupperware container, a quiet, cold calm washed over me. I looked down at the floor, a tiny, dark smile touching my lips. Not quite. Give it thirty minutes. They are going to regret every single second of this. “The ambulance is here!” someone shouted from the lobby. The wail of sirens echoed from the street below. The crowd shifted instantly. Greg and the relatives scrambled to lift Martina, while Cody held the container close to his chest, practically vibrating with excitement. “Yes! The ambulance!” Cody turned his phone camera to himself. “We saved the hand together, chat! I’m heading to the hospital with them now to keep you guys updated!” At the sound of the sirens, Martina—who had supposedly fainted from blood loss—miraculously opened her eyes. The chat flared up. [???] [She was faking the whole time! What a disgusting snake!] Martina leaned down close to my face, her breath hot and smelling of cheap liquor. “You lost, Nicholas,” she whispered, her voice dripping with venom. “Once they sew my hand back on, I’m coming back for everything you own.” She spat on my floor, and the group swept out of my apartment, leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind them. Once they were gone, I slowly sat up, the pain in my ribs sharp but manageable. I wiped the blood from my forehead and let out a soft laugh. Martina’s hand was officially gone forever. I picked up my phone, cracked screen and all, and dialed the police. “Yes, I’d like to report a home invasion, assault, and extortion…” I leaned back against my sofa, staring at the ceiling. I hoped she would still be smiling when she reached the hospital. … Meanwhile, at the municipal hospital, Martina was rushed straight into the operating room. Cody sat in the waiting room, holding the plastic container and streaming to his growing audience, his face flushed with the thrill of internet fame. The surgery light turned red. The minutes ticked by. But less than thirty minutes later, the light flickered off. The double doors swung open, and the lead surgeon walked out, his expression incredibly grim. “Who is the family of Martina Hobbs?” Cody, still filming, grinned at the camera. “Wow, that was fast! Great efficiency from the surgical team!” But the surgeon shook his head, looking down at the chart. “The surgery has been canceled. The patient’s hand is completely necrotic.” Cody’s phone slipped through his fingers, clattering onto the linoleum floor. His face went entirely white. Martina’s hand was dead.
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