Chapter 2: The Slap That Went Viral

Because I couldn’t stay awake, and kept nodding off, when the new show started, the studio had to wheel me to set on a stretcher.

When it was my scene, my assistant gently shook my arm, whispering, “Mallory, wake up. Everyone’s already agreed with the director on how they’re gonna hit you.”

I cracked my eyes open, sat up, and caught people whispering that I was stealing roles, acting like a diva.

Got up too fast. How could I be a diva? Better sleep some more.

My head hadn’t even touched the stretcher before my assistant yanked me up again.

I yawned and stood.

Lucky for me, I sleep like a rock—my costume wasn’t even wrinkled.

I was playing a third-billed supporting role.

The protagonist’s big sister—her only family—and her designated punching bag.

The role was likable, so even though it wasn’t huge, the agency still took it for me.

The supporting actress who played the troublemaker fights with the female lead; I get hit.

The villain tries to stab the female lead; I take the knife.

I’m starting to think this is secretly an action flick for girls, but I can’t prove it yet.

In this scene, the female lead, the supporting actress, and I are all shoving each other, and the supporting actress slaps me.

It was supposed to be a fake slap—camera trick plus editing.

But the supporting actress seemed to have some personal beef.

When I leaned in, she really smacked me.

Sleep deprived, I was already a little woozy.

She hit me hard, and I went down.

Head bounced off the floor—honestly, whatever, I’ve got a skull like a bowling ball.

Flat on the floor, I felt weirdly comfy.

The floor was cool, my eyelids heavier than ever.

Perfect sleeping conditions.

I closed my eyes and drifted off.

The whole set panicked, crowding around to pinch my nose and check my pulse. (Not exactly the first-aid handbook, but hey, panic makes people weird.)

I heard the supporting actress crying: “I swear I didn’t mean to! I just wanted it to look real…”

I slept for thirty hours straight.

When I woke up, the weather had changed outside.

The trending hashtags all had my name.

#MalloryKnoxOutColdOnSet #MallorySetBullying

The hospital said I had a mild concussion, but the real reason I wouldn’t wake up was eucalyptus poisoning.

A circle of people gathered around my hospital bed.

I only recognized a few—my manager, Carter, and the one who hit me.

The actress who slapped me was a wreck, sobbing at my bedside, begging me to clear her name.

“Talk to my manager. She can log into my account.”

Half-asleep, I yawned.

The lights were way too bright—not ideal for napping.

I pulled the sheet over my face and went back to sleep.