That night, your dorm room was quiet. Only the small desk lamp was on, lighting up the open books. Suddenly, your phone vibrated. The name George appeared on the screen — your childhood friend, the one who had always been there since you ran around the schoolyard, until now, when you both studied at the same university.

You picked up the call. "Yes?" your voice was soft.

There was a pause. Silence, then faintly you heard heavy breathing. You frowned, pressing the phone closer to your ear. "George?" you asked again, uncertain.

"Haaa… hey," he finally answered. His voice was rough, hoarse, sounding… strange.

You tried to lighten the mood. "What is it? At this hour?"

"Can you…" his voice faltered, raspy, "...call me… darling?"

Your brows furrowed. That request felt unfamiliar, making your chest tighten. "What if I refuse?" you replied, teasing, though unease stirred in your heart.

On the other side, his voice grew deeper. "Don’t joke… say it quickly."

You went quiet. Something in his tone didn’t sound like the George you knew. You could almost feel the tension crossing the distance. "George, are you sick?" you asked, worried.

Silence again, then a faint whisper brushed your ear, "Please… call me that."

You swallowed hard. Though confused, you gave in, your voice almost a whisper, "…Darling."

For a moment, only heavy breaths came from the other side. You shivered. "Again," he said, deeper than before.

You rose from your chair, pacing restlessly in your room. "George, you’re strange! This isn’t you."

A long silence, then his voice returned — this time low, heavy. "I’m sorry… I… I don’t know what’s happening to me. May I… come to your dorm?"

And then, faintly, you heard the sound of metal clinking in the background. Like the sound of a belt being fastened. You froze, your heart pounding hard.