Ethan Cole stared at the "Sorry, you didn't make the cut" email for the hundredth time. His stomach twisted in a knot as he closed his laptop. Another rejection.
Another failed dream. He had always known this would be hard, but how much longer could he keep going? No money, no job, and now, no future in Hollywood.
"Again, and again, and again," Why?
Why? Why do I have to keep failing? Ethan paced around his tiny apartment, his brain was frazzled, and his stomach gnawed with hunger, he felt like he was losing his mind.
The stack of bills from electricity to even his damn rent was scattered on his table, his phone rang from the umpteenth time, maybe his mother calling to check on him, maybe Riley, his agent, calling to tell him he got another role as a fucking tree in some indie movie with a director that was basically nonexistent.
"Ha," Ethan burst into laughter as he sank to the ground.
He would actually take the fucking tree any day, at least the 50- 80 dollars he would get from the role could've gotten him tonight's food, for what the pringles he could get was worth.
"Fuck," Ethan choked out, the tears streaming down his face. "I'm fucked," he said as he glanced down at the stab wound that was almost healed in his palm.
He has a bad premonition in his head, now that the wound was healing, he was sure those loan sharks would return. The situation was sad it was almost laughable if it wasn't his situation.
250k dollars in debt. How the fuck was he supposed to pay 250k dollars in debts? It gnawed in his stomach that 150k out of the debt wasn't his, but the only thing he inherited from his father. That and the stomach rusty iron locket he had on.
I'm fucked, the thought couldn't stop ringing in his mind. He glanced at his calendar. It was a week to May 31, a week till those loan sharks returned.
He gritted his teeth. "I'm fucked," He couldn't go on. It was too much, the debts, the bruise on his forehead from Superstar Samuel Mines throwing a fucking bottle on his head because he was throwing him off his line.
It was one of the very few major films he had gotten, and he was just an extra extra role, the one you'd call a walk pass character, you know the one that'll walk pass as the main characters have a discussion outside. And apparently, the way he walked threw Samuel Mines off so he threw a bottle at him.
He so hated his life. He hated beloved superstar Samuel stupid, ugly, egoistic face, actually Samuel was far from ugly.
Ha, Ethan got up his feet. He was fucked. There was no front to run to nor was there any back to run to. It was exhausting and tiring. He couldn't do it anymore.
I need to lighten the burden…. The dark thought crossed his mind. The ground creaked lightly as he made his way towards his duffel bag and removed a family pill inside.
Pain killers. Funny how getting drugs illegally was far easier than getting a fruitful career, man he hated his life.
His thumb grazed the label on the painkillers. I need to lighten the burden. He had been a coward, again and again he would unzip his duffel bag and remove the pain killers, but the coward in him would lead him to put the pills back in his back.
It was beginning to become an embarrassing ritual at this point. What kind of fucker wallowed on self pity every night, then cried himself to sleep with bottle water every night, cause beer had become two dollars more expensive.
Man, he hated his life.
"I need to lighten the burden," he finally breathed out loud. And he knew just how to do it.
He made his way to the cup rack, not exactly in a rush as put water in it. I need to lighten the burden.
"Ha, what better way to lighten the burden?" He muttered as he stared at the cup, vaguely making out his face on it.
A face as average as they come, riddled with far too much acne that it was aggravating, a nose slightly crooked and limpid eyes that always looked like he was in constant self pity…. He was but it was just embarrassing when it was obvious.
Not to talk of the massive eyebags he could make for a panda at this point. And his dirty blonde hair that he couldn't afford to give a reasonable haircut.
Man he hated his life.
He nodded as he opened the painkillers. Time to lighten the burden. As he stared at the pills, making the final decision, the whole place turned dark as the light went out.
Ethan was silent for the moment. "Man, I hate my life," he muttered with a laugh that didn't reach his eyes.
And then– he threw the glass against the wall, reaching for his rack filled with a cup, throwing the whole thing to the ground. He slammed his leg against the wall but his leg went through the wall with much pain.
Lighten the burden.
The pain was maddening as much as the anger was mind blowing.
Just let go and lighten the burden.
His eyes widened at the sight. "Fuvk! Fuck this! Fuck all of this!" He screamed, stomping on the floor.
Relief yourself! The thought was reoccurring, throbbing in stream with his pool of anger that seemed endless at the moment.
"I hate this, I hate all of this!!!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, and without another thought he swung the hand with the pill up and and–
The bottle slipped from his hand, fell on the floor.
I'm tired of this shit.
"Why? Why is this happening?!" He shrieked out, laughter in the mix.
I'm tired of this shit.
He breathed, trying to find his cool.
I should just sleep. Ethan thought as he stumbled toward his mattress, exhaustion weighing him down. His foot hit something sharp on the floor.
"Shit!" he cursed, stumbling back.
"Keep it fucking down!" came a muffled shout from downstairs.
He hopped on one foot, trying to shake off the pain, but his other foot slipped into a puddle of water. His balance failed him, and he crashed backward. His head slammed into the floor with a sickening thud, the sound ringing through his skull.
"Keep it the hell down!" his downstairs neighbor yelled again.
Ethan blinked, staring up at the ceiling, his vision starting to blur. The world felt distant. His thoughts were slow, the edges of his mind slipping away.
"What… What is—?"
But the words never left his mouth. The blur deepened, and the darkness swallowed him whole.
[System Activated]
A robotic voice resounded in his head, deep and monotone, as if it had always been there.
[Welcome, Ethan Cole. The Entertainment Mastery System is now online.]