Morning light filtered weakly through the blinds, casting thin slivers of gold across the apartment. Jason stirred on the couch, his body stiff from the awkward position he'd slept in. He blinked, groggy, trying to shake off the remnants of restless dreams. The buzzing ache in his head from the night before had dulled, but the weight in his chest hadn't lifted. It had only gotten heavier.
Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and glanced around the apartment, as if hoping something had magically changed overnight. But the same old mess greeted him—piles of overdue bills, scattered scripts, and empty takeout containers. The remnants of a life he no longer recognized.
His phone buzzed on the coffee table, cutting through the silence. Jason reached for it, half-expecting another automated rejection or a reminder that his bills were overdue. Instead, it was a notification from his bank. His stomach tightened as he opened it.
"Balance: $42.17"
The number stared back at him, mocking him with its brutal simplicity. Forty-two dollars. That was all he had left in the world. His rent was due in five days. The electricity bill was long past due, and his fridge was nearly empty. He hadn't booked a gig in months, and the shifts at the diner weren't enough to cover even the basics.
Jason tossed the phone onto the couch, his heart pounding in his chest. He had been in bad spots before, but this—this felt different. It felt final. There were no more options left. He had run out of time.
The thought of going back to Idaho, to his parents' house, had crossed his mind more than once lately. But every time he pictured it—his mother's concerned face, his father's quiet disappointment—something inside him recoiled. Returning home felt like admitting defeat, like confirming that the last decade of his life had been a waste. He couldn't bring himself to do it. Not yet.
Jason stood up and walked over to the window, pulling the blinds aside to look out at the street below. The city was waking up, cars honking, people rushing to their jobs, going about their lives. A world of motion and purpose, and here he was—stuck, watching it all pass by.
His mind drifted to the countless auditions he'd been to over the years. Every waiting room had been the same—full of nervous energy, hopeful actors sitting in stiff chairs, flipping through scripts, practicing their lines under their breath. Jason had always felt like one of them, like he belonged in those rooms. But with each passing year, as the callbacks became fewer and farther between, he had started to feel like an outsider.
It wasn't just that he wasn't getting the roles. It was that no one even seemed to care that he was trying. The casting directors barely looked at him, dismissing him after a few lines. His friends, the ones who had once struggled alongside him, had all moved on, booking roles, building careers, making names for themselves. Jason had been left behind.
He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the cool glass of the window. What was he even holding on to anymore? The dream he had once loved felt like a noose around his neck, tightening with each day that passed. But the idea of giving it up—it terrified him. Without the dream, what was he? Who was he?
His phone buzzed again, this time pulling him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen—an email notification.
"From: Casting Director, Weber Productions"
For a brief moment, Jason's heart skipped a beat. His fingers fumbled as he opened the email. Maybe, just maybe, this was the break he needed.
But as he read the first few lines, the hope evaporated.
"Dear Jason,
Thank you for auditioning for the role of Marcus in our upcoming web series. While we were impressed by your performance, we regret to inform you that we have decided to move forward with another candidate. We wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors."
Jason clenched his jaw, the familiar sting of rejection settling into his chest. "Impressed with your performance"—those words had lost all meaning to him. Every rejection letter was the same. It didn't matter if they were impressed. It didn't matter if he had potential. None of it mattered if he couldn't land the role.
The email slipped away from his thoughts, replaced by a dull, suffocating numbness. He knew what came next—the same cycle he had gone through too many times before. He would tell himself to keep going, to push harder, to audition for just one more role. But deep down, he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep lying to himself.
Jason moved back to the couch, sinking into the worn cushions. His hands shook as he buried his face in them. The walls of the apartment seemed to close in on him, and for the first time in a long time, Jason felt truly, utterly trapped.
For years, he had clung to the belief that hard work would eventually pay off. That if he just kept going, if he just stayed the course, something would change. But nothing had changed. And now, he was staring down the reality he had been avoiding for far too long.
He wasn't going to make it.
The realization hit him with the force of a freight train. It was a truth he had known, somewhere deep inside, for years. But admitting it out loud—even just in the privacy of his own thoughts—felt like a betrayal to everything he had worked for.
Jason leaned back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. The steady hum of the city outside seemed distant, disconnected from the world he was living in. His phone buzzed again, but this time he didn't bother checking it. He knew it wasn't anything good.
He closed his eyes, exhaustion washing over him. He hadn't slept well in weeks—maybe months. The constant pressure, the endless grind of auditioning, the financial stress—it had all taken a toll on him. His body ached, his mind was clouded, and for the first time in years, he wondered if he even had the energy to keep going.
Jason drifted into a restless sleep, his thoughts swirling with memories of failed auditions, missed opportunities, and what could have been. His chest tightened as a deep ache settled into his bones, a sense of loss for something he never truly had.
The hours ticked by, the afternoon sun giving way to the deep blues of evening. Jason woke to the sound of distant thunder, his body heavy, his head throbbing. He sat up slowly, blinking as his vision blurred, his mind struggling to clear the fog.
The pounding in his head intensified, sharp and relentless. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing the heels of his hands to his temples, willing the pain to go away. But it didn't. Instead, it grew worse, spreading through his skull like wildfire. His breath came in short, panicked gasps as the room around him began to spin.
The pain was unbearable now, a searing heat that pulsed behind his eyes. Jason tried to stand, but his legs gave out beneath him, sending him crashing to the floor. He curled into himself, his body trembling as darkness began to creep in from the edges of his vision.
The last thing he saw before everything went black was the flickering light of his phone on the coffee table, the screen glowing with one final notification.
And then, nothing.