Acting Interest

The young man remained still in the center of the platform, locked in the searing glare of the spotlight. Beyond that vibrant circle of light, the theater stood in shadow, its balconies and rows of empty scarlet seats shrouded in darkness. The air was thick with the faint scent of dust and aged wood, the silence broken only by his unsteady breathing and the creak of the floor beneath him.

The spotlight's heat pressed down on him, but it couldn't reach the cold knot in his chest. His hands trembled, betraying the composure he tried to maintain. The crumpled script in his grip felt useless, slick with sweat and slipping from his fingers..

"You can do this." He whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness surrounding him. It felt more like a plea than a comfort.

His gaze darted to the vacant chairs, expecting the stillness to shatter. It didn't. Instead, it deepened, pressing against him until he could feel its weight in his chest. He shifted his gaze to the back of the theater. There, in the darkness, sat the director, his figure barely visible. The faint outline of his crossed arms and his unyielding stare were palpable even from a distance.

"Whenever you're ready." 

The director's voice echoed, crisp and hollow, cutting through the suffocating quiet. 

The young man nodded, though it felt more like a reflex than an answer. His throat felt dry, and he grasped the script tighter. ' It was a dream, wasn't it? To stand here, under this light, with this chance? ' But now it felt more like a test—one he wasn't sure he could pass. 

He took a shaky breath, his body trembling with the force of it. His mind screamed at him to move, to speak, to *do something.* 

"Now or never." The thought whispered through him, as sharp as a blade. 

With shuddering resolve, he opened his lips...

***

Kale lounged in his armchair with a bowl of popcorn resting on his lap. His wife, Mariko, sat beside him, splitting her attention between the movie and their youngest child playing on the floor and Their other child was half-asleep, curled up near Kale's legs as the soft sounds of the movie and occasional whispers filled the cozy living room.

Kale had watched movies like this before. The plot was predictable, and the characters were amusing but lacked depth—exactly the kind of lighthearted fare his family enjoyed after a busy, long week. He leaned back, ready to let the scenes play out, when something on the screen made him pause.

The camera lingered on a young man standing alone in the center of a dimly lit theater. A harsh spotlight shone down on him, while the old velvet chairs stretched into the distance. The air felt heavy with silence, amplifying his sense of seclusion. The actor's face betrayed his nerves—his breaths shallow, his hands trembling as he clung to a crumpled script.

Kale frowned, leaning forward slightly. The boy's hesitation, the way his lips quivered as though caught between words the boy took a breath on-screen, steadying himself. Kale's own breathing hitched as he watched, the popcorn in his lap forgotten. His fingers curled over the edges of the armrest, a dull ache growing in his temples. 

"Have I seen this before? It feels strangely familiar." The thought lingered in his mind, yet no answer emerged. He wasn't someone who typically watched movies, nor was he interested in them. He was simply a man compelled by his wife to watch. He had never stepped onto a stage and had no ties to that field.

And yet… 

As the boy began to speak, Kale felt the words stir something inside him.

'it felt strange'

He glanced at his wife and children, the cozy atmosphere of the room wrapping around them. The movie played on. No one else seemed to notice the weight of the scene, the gravity of what it evoked. 

But Kale couldn't look away. he felt that—this wasn't just a scene...

"Ringing..."

The phone's persistent ringing broke the silence.

"Secretary Luis?" he said, picking up the phone.

["I apologize for interrupting your evening, sir, but Mr. Suarez insists on meeting with you. His men are guarding the building, not allowing anyone from the company to leave, Some of our employees are being held hostage, could you please come to the office?"] A voice crackled through the receiver.

"I'll be there." He stood up, donning his suit before hanging up the phone.

"I'll be leaving for the company. There seems to be an emergency, and I don't think I'll be coming home tonight," he said to his wife, adjusting his suit.

"Alright. Take care of what you need to. I'll take care of the kids," she said, gently caressing the children as they slept.

"Thanks. I'll be back when I can," he replied before leaving.

---

It started to rain on his way to the office. Water hammered against the windshield, a steady rhythm that drowned out everything else. The car sped down the empty road, its tires slicing through the wet asphalt, the headlights barely cutting through the darkness. The phone in his hand buzzed again. He answered with a sigh, his voice steady despite the tension.

"Luis," he said, his eyes scanning the road, "What's going on? Why is Mr. Suarez men guarding the building? What are their intentions? Are the employees alright?"

There was a brief pause before Luis's voice came through, calm and clipped. ["I don't know the details, sir, but Mr. Suarez has made it clear he won't leave until you arrive. And he keeps mentioning that you owe him something. The employees are fine for now, but his men have guns."]

His brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of it. "He must have lost his mind. That bastard... just be careful, Luis. Don't think about calling the police. It might trigger that psycho."

"Sir, I—" Luis's voice faltered, but then he quickly regained composure. "Please be careful, sir."

A cold chill crept up his spine as he turned onto a winding stretch of road. Something didn't feel right. "Fine. I'll handle it when I get there" he said after ignoring his thoughts.

As he hung up, a sudden, sharp *crack* split the air, and the car jolted violently. The windshield shattered, sending a cascade of glass into the car. His body instinctively jerked, hands gripping the wheel as the car swerved, but it was too late. The tires screeched, losing traction as another barrage of bullets hit the vehicle. The sound of gunfire was deafening, but all he could hear was his own heart pounding.

"Dammit!" he shouted, his foot slamming on the brake, but it didn't matter. The car was out of control, skidding toward the edge of the cliff. As he fought to regain control.

His heart skipped a beat. "No..." he muttered, just as the car lurched forward, the tires losing grip entirely. The car teetered on the edge, the headlights catching the dark, jagged rocks below.

He slammed the brake again, but there was no stopping it. The car tipped over the edge, and in that moment of weightless terror, he saw it. Luis. Standing there at the cliff's edge, a smile stretched across his face, the rain soaking him through beside him was Mr. Suarez and his men.

"I'm sorry, sir," Luis's chuckling voice echoed in the chaos, cutting through the thundering of the storm and the rumble of the car's descent.

Then, with a swift kick, Luis shoved the car further off the cliff, sending it and kale into the abyss below...

"YOU BAST*RD"....