A deranged man who likes to call himself the Director kidnaps a teenage boy and girl to be his actors. He expects them to perform the six acts of his play without messing up once, or else harrowing pain awaits them.
🥇1st place / The Cosmic Awards
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ADELAIDE REALLY MANAGED to transfer her fear of infections to Nathan. So now, standing shirtless in the bathroom, he kept staring at the gauzes on his arms and legs and feet and hands, trying not to imagine blackened swollen gashes under them.
Nathan shook his head. The wounds weren't infected; he was just getting paranoid like Adelaide. He reached for his sweater and tried pulling it on, but he froze halfway through with a strained expression—the more he stretched his arms up, the more all his muscles and wounds ached.
It was a struggle, and he almost had to call Adelaide to help him get dressed, but he managed to finish up. As soon as he was done, he walked out of the bathroom and slowly—slowly—sat down at the dresser's side where Adelaide was applying makeup.
When he looked at the wall opposite him and couldn't even make out the worn texture, he realized his vision had gotten worse. Great. His instinct told him to reach for something off the dresser to fiddle with, but he didn't find it in him.
So Nathan remained silent, hand on his thigh, occasionally squeezing. Up on the stool Adelaide constantly glanced at him like she was scared he'd faint again. He wished she'd stop pitying him so obviously.
The last look Adelaide gave Nathan was actually directed at his hands. She gazed at the array of cosmetic shit on the dresser, then held an eye-shadow pallet, examined it for a second and placed it Nathan's hand.
"You usually mess with the stuff," she said. "I'm used to it."
The pallet almost dropped from Nathan's hand but he clutched it just in time. He sighed to himself. A tiny smile curved his mouth, but he didn't look at Adelaide. He relaxed back. Absently fiddled with the lid. It clicked, then clicked, then clicked every time he opened and closed it.
In the process, Nathan caught the front row of colors. Rusty grey. Close and open. Faded gold. Close and open. Darkish blue. Open. He kept the lid flipped up this time and stared at it, smiling a little.
Nathan held the pallet up to Adelaide and pointed at the dark blue square. "That's my favorite color," he mumbled.
Adelaide glanced at it. "Teal blue. It reminds me of Bellflowers. I have some back home."
"Then bring these Bellflowers to my gr—" Nathan stopped himself, hoping Adelaide didn't understand where he was going with his sentence but obviously she did. Her expression dropped.
"Gosh," Adelaide said, snatching the pallet from Nathan's hand. After placing it on the counter again, she picked the foundation and uncapped it. "You have to turn it into something awful, don't you?" Silence mingled with a sigh, then: "Your bruise."
