Is 'Don'T Drink The Kool-Aid' Based On A True Story?

When one misunderstanding turns into a disaster, how do one survive the jungle that's High School? Lanaisa Frost has always been the life of the party. She was friends with everyone and hurt no one. Yet one misfortune at the beginning of the school year turns her world upside down. Now she's the laughing stalk of the whole school. Gossip spread like wild fire in Hawthorne Lane High, yet Laney never thought she'd be the topic of discussion. There's always an ounce of truth to the rumors right?

Five years ago, my family died in a car crash. My parents. My adopted sister, Liz. Everyone but me. They left behind grief, an empty house, and a debt so large it swallowed my life. When the collectors came, I turned to the only person I had left—my husband, Adrian. He told me he had cut ties with his own family to marry me and had nothing left. I believed him. For five years, I worked every job I could find, paid every dollar I earned, and told myself love was worth the suffering. When the balance dropped to its final $18,000, I signed up for a paid drug trial at a private clinic. They handed me a waiver, warned me about possible delayed reactions, and promised fast money if I swallowed the experimental dose. I thought it would buy us a new beginning. Instead, I came home early and heard Adrian on the phone. “Let Liz use the card. Evelyn still doesn’t know. She took away Liz’s money five years ago, so she has to earn every dollar back herself.” Then he laughed softly. “One more year, and her punishment is over.” That was how I learned the dead were alive. The debt was fake. My husband had never been poor. And the life I had fought so hard to survive was only a sentence they had given me.

My family's company was on the brink of bankruptcy—its cash flow severed, the entire operation teetering on collapse. My fiancé, Andy Goor, was prepared to lend me money to keep things afloat. Just as I was about to say yes, a barrage of floating comments swept across my vision. [Don't agree—no matter what you do!] [The company's bankruptcy and cash flow crisis are all part of Andy's scheme!] [He's after your family's assets. If you accept, your whole family will end up sleeping under bridges for the rest of your lives!] [Your father will die after jumping off a building because he can't afford treatment. Your mother will be beaten to death by debt collectors. And you—you'll be sold into a nightclub. Just thinking about it is tragic!] A cold smile curved my lips. Without hesitation, I reached out and took the bank card Andy had sent over. Because in my previous life, I had believed those very comments and refused his help. After that, the company slid into bankruptcy, beyond saving. My parents were driven to their deaths, both forced to jump from buildings. And I was sold by creditors to an underground clinic, where my heart and kidneys were harvested before my body was dismembered. Only after I died, my soul drifting aimlessly, did I learn the truth—this had all been orchestrated by my so-called best friend, Chelsea Beatriz. Every single one of those comments had been fabricated by her. Disillusioned with me, Andy turned his investment to her company instead. She took my place—effortlessly stepping into my life—and married him. This time… everything I went through? Someone else gets to carry that weight now.

After my parents passed away, Uncle Mike took me in. When greedy relatives tried to snatch away my inheritance, he chased them off with a kitchen knife. “As long as I’m here, nobody lays a finger on this girl!” Aunt Rachel doted on me, calling me her precious baby and making me nutritious meals every day. My cousin Pete secretly slipped me pocket money and made sure to pick me up and drop me off at school, afraid I might get bullied. The neighbors all said I was lucky and to repay their kindness someday. On graduation day, I cooked them a lavish meal to show my appreciation. Every dish was laced with rat poison. I didn’t spare a single soul, not even the neighbors. I killed them all!

After years of investment from my company, my boyfriend finally broke into show business. At last, he won an Oscar. True to his promise, he married me. Then, during a backstage interview, he said, "It was transactional. I had to marry her in exchange for the funding." His braindead fans came after me soon afterward. They stalked me and, one day, poured sulfuric acid over my face. The attack left me disfigured. He sent me to the hospital, but that was just another part of his scheme. Before long, the world believed I had died from complications. When I returned to life, I decided to invest in someone else. After all, he was the only person who had mourned my death and given me a proper burial.

During my night shift, I refused to help my adopted sister administer fluids to her patient. After the wrong drug is given, I watch a seven-year-old boy die after he suffers an allergic reaction right before my eyes. In my previous life, the boy's family stormed the nurses' station after I'd just finished administering his IV medication. The next thing I knew, I was violently beaten up. "You poisoned my grandchild by giving him the wrong medicine!" But the fluid I introduced into his bloodstream was a simple glucose solution. It couldn't have led to such a disastrous outcome. When I was on the brink of passing out, someone called the police. I thought help had finally arrived, but I was sorely mistaken. The police officer—my brother—pinned me to the ground. "We found your prints on the drug vial. You're a murderer." Then, my childhood friend, a forensic pathologist, held up an autopsy report and accused me of the same crime. "The patient's time of death is around 5:00 am. That's the same time you administered drugs into his system." Unable to prove my innocence, I was ultimately beaten to death by the boy's enraged family members. My brother and my childhood friend had always loved me. Even on the brink of death, I couldn't understand why they would do this to me. Now, I open my eyes and find myself back on the night it all began.