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 WAS SUPPOSEDLY helping Nathan sleep, but ironically, she dozed off herself. Nathan could tell by the movement of her hand in his hair—she'd been pleating a strand, sometimes untangling knots. But then her fingers only lay on his head, unmoving, and he almost wanted to tell her: hey, why did you stop? Keep going.
When Nathan looked up, he saw the confirmation: Adelaide's head fell back against the wall and her chest moved lightly in time with her soft breaths. Eyes closed, lashes pointing downward at the chalky black bags beneath them.
She looked worried even in her sleep. Nathan didn't want to disturb her, so he cautiously held her hand and pulled it out of his hair, placing it on her lap instead.
Except she shifted then, tensing as she blinked. Her hand patted around her thigh first, then down on the floor. "Nate?" she murmured. She was probably still half asleep. More urgently: "N-Nate?"
"I'm here," Nathan said. If he was a jackass he'd add: not dead yet, don't worry.
Adelaide straightened. Her worried expression turned into a disoriented frown, and it took her a minute to land back onto reality. "I'm- I'm sorry. Bad dream."
"Lie on the bed. Have you even been sleeping at all?"
Shaking her head, Adelaide mumbled, "No. How was I supposed to sleep with everything happening?"
"But you expect me to sleep?"
"You're the younger one."
Nathan made a face. Every time. The hell did that have to do with anything? "It's only one year."
"When did you turn eighteen?"
Nathan had turned eighteen only a few days before he'd gotten kidnapped. "Recently," he mumbled.
"I'm closer to twenty. So that's almost two years." Adelaide's smile was tinged with triumph. "Hah."
Arching a brow, Nathan smiled. Pretty graceful transition from a bad dream. He'd guess his coping mechanism rubbed off on her, and now they were both laughing and smiling whilst crippling on the inside, fearing the moment papers would slip under the door but refusing to let it conquer.
If Nathan had to analyze it, he'd say it was just craving a grip on their lives again. To stop fearing all the time. Worrying. Anticipating. Except that was exactly what they were doing, masked by artificial amusement.
Adelaide's shuddering sigh popped the bubble. The dreadful terror became apparent again; it weighed Nathan down even more. "I'm scared," she said like it was a surprise, eyes on the space beneath the door. "I don't wanna see Act Six. I don't want to read the script."
