The Play

four.

"Yeah, you're right. I won't do that. We'll plan things together first, right? And— oh my gosh, he's opening the door."

For a millisecond, Adelaide's hand flung out, instinctively searching for Nathan's to hold. Finger brushed against finger then she realized what she'd done and quickly pulled back. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

Nathan would have assured her that it was fine if his entire internal system wasn't failing. The familiar rattle of chains rattled inside Nathan's chest. The door pushed in an inch, but not further.

Nathan waited for an order. Guidance. Nerve-wrecking silence persisted for a minute. Maybe more, maybe less. He lost track midst the tension suffocating him.

"Come out, my actors."

For the second time, Nathan stepped out first. The thumps of his heart echoed in his ears as he passed the corridor and slowly climbed up the stair-steps, wanting to extend the time, push out the inevitable even though he knew he couldn't do that.

Was that what prisoners walking up to death penalty felt like? Trudging straight to their grave, aware of looming death? The chance of survival dwindled in sync with Adelaide's ragged breath. If Nathan'd manage to survive this and go back home, he'd probably hug his dad and never let go.

"Stop. Stay where you are."

Nathan had been in the middle of stepping on the very last rung and he came to a faltering halt. Adam's apple bobbing, he glanced back at Adelaide for a mere second. She caught up and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him on the threshold of the stage.

A little to the front, something brownish slumped on the planks, close enough for Nathan's eyes to pick up without much strain. "Your grocery bags?"

"Yeah." The word was enough but Adelaide nodded as well for some reason. "My props, remember?"

"I remember. But where's my briefcase? The script said—" Adelaide cut Nathan off by tapping his arm and pointing to the right where a suitcase leant against the wall. "Oh," he said, quickly lifting its leather handle. Light. Nothing was inside, he assumed.

"My heroine," the Director said, "prepare yourself on stage first."

Nathan tried locating the Director but his shitty eyesight wasn't helping. He took a tiny step back, shoulder pointed at one angle, free hand respectfully gesturing Adelaide to pass.

"Adelaide." Nathan forced a smile before she could leave. "We can do this. You said it. Don't forget, it's the left bag you drop, okay?"

A remark was on the tip of Adelaide's tongue—Nathan could tell—but she just nodded and walked hesitantly across the stage, closer to the bags, heels of her shoes echoing far too loudly against the planks midst the dreary silence.

The paper bags crinkled as Adelaide held them. Nathan still couldn't tell where the hell the Director was.

"Remember, my actors, no messing up. My villain, you can't see me right now but I can see you. The shotgun's directed at you."

So this was what it felt like for someone to puncture Nathan's skin and tug at a nerve-end. He didn't find it in him to nod, so all he did was stare at his feet.