How My Sister’s Wedding Became a Crime Scene in Less Than 20 Minutes

How did my sister’s wedding turn into a crime scene in under 20 minutes? My sister Felicity was halfway down the aisle when I realized the champagne I just sipped tasted wrong.

It was bitter and chalky, with this weird metallic aftertaste that made my tongue feel thick. I set the glass down on my lap and tried to focus on the ceremony, but my vision started getting blurry around the edges.

The string quartet playing “Canon in D” sounded like it was underwater and far away, even though they were only 20 feet from where I sat in the second row. My hands started tingling first, then my feet, and I looked down at the champagne flute, realizing something was seriously wrong with whatever I’d just drunk.

I tried to stand up to get help, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate, and I ended up half falling into the aisle. Felicity’s new mother-in-law, Diane, rushed over and grabbed my arm hard enough to bruise, yanking me back into my seat with surprising strength for someone in her 60s.

She hissed in my ear that I was making a scene at my sister’s wedding and needed to sit down and be quiet like a proper bridesmaid. Her breath smelled like expensive wine and mint gum, and her fingers dug into my bicep as she forced me to stay seated while my heart started racing in my chest.

I tried to tell her something was wrong with my drink, but my words came out slurred and wrong, like my mouth wasn’t working right anymore. Diane leaned in closer and whispered that she knew exactly what I’d done, that she’d watched me trying to steal attention from Felicity all week with my complaints and drama.

She said I was just like my mother, always causing problems and ruining special moments for everyone else. My vision tunneled even more, and I could feel my pulse hammering in my neck and temples while sweat started soaking through my bridesmaid dress.

The officiant was asking if anyone objected to the marriage, and I wanted to scream that someone had poisoned me, but Diane’s hand clamped over my mouth before I could make a sound. She pressed so hard I tasted blood from where my teeth cut into my lip, and her other hand stayed locked around my arm, keeping me pinned to that chair.

I tried to bite her hand or scratch her or do anything to get free, but my body felt like it was moving through syrup, and nothing worked the way it should. My head lulled to the side, and I saw Felicity looking back at me with this annoyed expression, like I was deliberately trying to ruin her perfect day.

The ceremony kept going while I felt myself slipping further away from consciousness. I could hear the vows being exchanged, but they sounded muffled and distant, like I was listening from the bottom of a swimming pool.

Diane finally let go of me once the kiss happened and everyone started clapping, and I immediately slumped forward onto the person in front of me. They turned around looking irritated until they saw my face, and their expression changed to concern.

They asked if I was okay and tried to help me sit up, but I couldn’t hold my own weight anymore and ended up sliding off the chair onto the ground between the rows of white folding chairs. People started noticing then, and a few guests gathered around asking what was wrong while I lay there unable to move or speak properly.

My chest felt tight, and breathing was getting harder with each attempt. I realized with absolute terror that this wasn’t just being drunk or having a panic attack; someone had actually poisoned that champagne, and I was dying right there on the ground at my sister’s outdoor wedding while everyone stood around confused about what to do.

Diane pushed through the small crowd that had formed and announced loudly that I was clearly drunk and had embarrassed myself and the family. She told everyone to give me space and let me sleep it off in one of the back rooms at the venue.

Two groomsmen I didn’t know picked me up under Diane’s direction and started carrying me away from the ceremony area toward the old mansion that served as the venue’s main building. I tried to tell them I needed a hospital, that someone poisoned me, but all that came out was garbled nonsense that made them laugh like I was just really wasted.

They hauled me up the back of the mansion and into a small storage room that smelled like dust and old furniture, then dumped me on a moth-eaten couch before leaving and closing the door behind them. I heard the lock click and realized Diane had just had me imprisoned in this room while whatever was in that champagne worked its way through my system.

My phone was back at my seat in my purse, and there was no way to call for help. The room had no windows, just shelves of old decorations and boxes of linen stacked against the walls.

I don’t know how long I lay there drifting in and out of consciousness, but at some point I heard voices outside the door. Diane was talking to someone in hushed, urgent tones about how I’d always been jealous of Felicity and had probably taken something to get attention.

The other voice, a man’s, said they should probably check on me to make sure I was okay. Diane insisted I just needed to sleep it off and they’d deal with me after the reception.

I tried to scream or make noise to let them know I was actually dying, but my voice wouldn’t work anymore, and I could barely keep my eyes open. The footsteps walked away, and I was alone again in that dark, musty room with my heart beating irregularly and my breathing getting shallower.