The screech of tires and the dull roar of chaos faded into silence. Jay Carter's life had been ordinary, filled with unmet dreams and a growing pile of regrets. He never imagined it would end so abruptly, let alone in such a bizarre way.

When he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the blinding white of the ceiling above him. The second was the sharp ache in his chest, like he'd been hit by a truck. He tried to sit up, but a firm hand pressed him back down.

"Marshall, take it easy," said a woman's voice. Her tone was soft but carried a tinge of urgency.

Marshall? Jay frowned. Who was she talking to?

"Where am I?" he croaked, his voice dry and unfamiliar. He barely recognized it.

"You're in the hospital. You collapsed during rehearsal. Do you remember anything?" the woman asked.

Rehearsal? None of this made sense. Jay's last memory was walking home from his dead-end gig at a rundown bar. The rain had been falling hard, and then... darkness. But now he was here, and someone thought he was Marshall.

He turned his head to see the woman, a nurse in scrubs, holding a clipboard. Her face was kind but her eyes were filled with concern. She handed him a glass of water, which he gratefully sipped.

"Marshall, you gave us a scare," she said. "Let me get the doctor."

Before Jay could ask anything, she hurried out. That's when he caught sight of his hands—thin, pale, and littered with tattoos he didn't recognize. His heart started pounding as he sat up, ignoring the dull ache in his body.

He needed answers. He swung his legs off the bed and stumbled to the bathroom. Once inside, he flicked on the light and stared into the mirror.

What he saw nearly made him collapse again.

The man staring back at him wasn't Jay Carter. It was Eminem. The angular face, the piercing blue eyes, the buzz cut—every detail matched the legendary rapper.

"No... no, no, no," Jay whispered, shaking his head. He splashed cold water on his face, hoping it was a hallucination. But when he looked up, the face in the mirror hadn't changed.

His breathing quickened as he leaned against the sink. His mind raced. How is this possible? Why do I look like him? Is this some kind of dream?

A knock on the door snapped him out of his panic.

"Marshall? Are you okay?" the nurse called.

Jay hesitated, then opened the door. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said automatically, startled by the voice that came out—Eminem's voice.

The nurse smiled. "Good. The doctor will be here shortly. You should get some rest."

He nodded and sat back on the bed, his mind still spinning. As the nurse left, Jay caught sight of a pile of clothes on a nearby chair. A hoodie and jeans that looked suspiciously familiar. Next to them was a smartphone.

Jay picked it up and unlocked it with a touch, surprised it worked. The screen lit up, displaying a wallpaper of a young girl—Hailie. He recognized her instantly from the photos plastered all over the internet.

This wasn't a joke. He wasn't dreaming. Somehow, someway, he had been reincarnated as Marshall Mathers, better known as Eminem.

He scrolled through the phone, finding text messages from names he recognized—Dr. Dre, 50 Cent, and others he only knew from his past life as a fan. Each notification was a reminder of the reality he'd been thrust into.

Jay dropped the phone onto the bed, his hands trembling. How was he supposed to live as one of the most famous rappers in the world? What about his old life? Would anyone even remember Jay Carter?

Before he could spiral further, a memory from his past surfaced—a moment when he had been performing for a crowd of five people in a dive bar. He'd always dreamed of being a star, but he'd never made it. Now, fate had handed him the keys to the kingdom.

"This is insane," he muttered, running a hand through his buzzed hair. But then a small smile crept onto his lips.

Maybe this was a second chance.