Restart the Clock

Seconds pass by.

I blinked back to awareness slowly, my mind hazy. I could feel my face scrunch up in confusion at the scene around me, a literal scene.

I was certain I had been zoned out for at least ten minutes, but the actors around me were still in the positions they were in when I was last consciously aware of what was happening.

I glanced around at them, but no one was moving. I turned my head, facing Dallas. He was the lead actor in my highschool's current play, but he, too, was still.

I quickly slipped my hands free from the loose rope they had been bound behind my back in, uncrossing my legs and leaning towards Dallas. One look at the audience showed me an uncanny picture. None of them were moving, or even shifting, which was incredibly unusual for a crowd of what had to be at least a hundred people.

"Dallas?" I asked, my voice a hoarse whisper. I frowned. It hadn't been that long since I'd last spoken, only maybe five minutes, and however long I was zoned out for, but the actors and the audience were still there, so it couldn't have been too long, right?

I turned back to Dallas, but he didn't react at all. I could feel panic start to well up within myself, and I forced my lungs to take deep breaths. "Dallas, do you know what's going on?" I asked again, despite the action seeming pointless. He didn't answer me.

"Emilia? Xaiver? Carson, Sylvia, Alex, Liam, please, someone answer me!" None of them moved. Frantically, I shot to my feet, darting down the staircase that led into the audience so that I could see them more clearly, dashing through the aisles between rows as I tried to find someone that would move.

Despite such a large crowd, I couldn't even hear anyone breathing. The only noise was the low drone of the lights.

My breathing turned harsh, shallow, and I couldn't find it within myself to regulate it. What the hell was going on? Why wasn't anyone moving, what happened?

I darted back to the stage, trying to shake Dallas into awareness. He was a senior, he had just turned eighteen. He was practically a brother to me, and I desperately needed a source of comfort. His body wouldn't move, it was like he was a statue. When I placed my hand on his shoulder, I could feel it rise slightly with a barely perceptible intake of breath, but his breathing was so shallow and slow that he may as well have not been breathing at all.

It relieved me to know he was still breathing though, however slightly it may have been. No one else was moving. No one else seemed to be breathing. When I tried to shake Alex, my best friend, his skin was cold.

I couldn't stop it this time, I broke. Stumbling to my feet, I rushed backstage. I passed the technicians handling props and making sure everything was set for the next scene change. I weaved my way past faces I'd grown to know as family, and tears streamed down my face.

Dallas's skin had still been warm, Dallas was still breathing. Dallas was the only one.

I crawled inside of a hollow, portable staircase that remained backstage at all times. Inside it was dark and somewhat cramped, but it was comforting.

In my freshman year I'd dubbed it the "mental breakdown staircase". I climbed inside of it whenever I needed a moment away from everyone. I needed that more than ever now. I couldn't be around them, couldn't force myself to look into their eyes while they looked through mine.

It took at least an hour before I was able to stabilize my breathing to a somewhat acceptable rate. With shaking legs, I climbed out of my alcove.

I kept my eyes pinned to the ground, unwilling to see the technicians and any actors who weren't currently onstage. I knew now what I would see. I knew I wouldn't be able to bear it.

I made my way out the back door behind the stage, into the hallway that led to the dressing rooms, the school's kitchen, and an exit. I slipped into the girls dressing room, grateful that none of the costume techs had been sitting within it when... whatever went down happened.

I was alone. I was alone anyway. I looked at myself in the mirror, tear-stained face and puffy eyes. The girl in the mirror wasn't me. It wasn't a girl in the mirror.

I sighed, berating myself mentally. With everything going on, did my gender-dysmorphia really have to make an appearance?

I removed the belt holstering potion bottles, then changed out of the purple skirt and white blouse I had been wearing. For as much as I loved the role I had been given, and for as much as I thought Incendia the Alchemist had become a part of me, I couldn't stand to remain in such feminine clothing.

I dressed myself in a tank-top, hoodie, and cargo pants, removing my hair from the high pony-tail it had been situated in.

Walking over to a container of makeup wipes, I began scrubbing at my face, trying to remove the foundation and purple eye-shadow I had been wearing. There was only so long I could handle the feeling of it on my face before its weight started irritating my skin, and the crying I had previously done had ruined the make-up anyways.

Finally feeling like myself, I stared into the mirror, seeing my own face staring back. Glancing around the room, I knew I couldn't stay where I was. The school, the auditorium, it was all too much for me right now. I didn't know what was going on, but my house was only a nine mile walk. I could make it, right? I'd run Track and Cross Country before joining the theater department and discovering my love of acting.

With a sigh, I pulled my coat on. It was April in Michigan afterall, just as likely to snow as it was to be seventy degrees at any given point. Only, when I stepped into the night air outside of the school, I removed my coat instantly.

It felt like mid-summer, but that shouldn't have been possible, even for a midwest state. A lot of things have been going on that shouldn't be possible. Almost everyone in the auditorium looks-- I cut off the train of thought.

They couldn't be dead, could they? Sure, their skin was cold, and only Dallas seemed to be breathing, but... God, maybe they were all dead.

I shook my head harshly. I couldn't allow myself to go down this train of thought right now, I needed to get home. I needed to know if what had happened here had happened to my family.

I would have tried to call them all desperately, but my phone was dead. I could have sworn I'd charged it before the show. However, I also could have sworn it was barely spring and yet even at night it felt like seventy degrees out.

My head spinning, I set off in the direction of my house, hoping it was still a home I could return to.

(1223 words)

Thanks for reading so far! I promise it does get better in upcoming chapters.