The edges of the script crumbled under Bliss’s fingers, still singed from fire. Her name or what used to be her name was scrawled in bold type across the cover: Ivana’s Last Performance. The title alone felt like a riddle left behind by a version of herself she no longer remembered.She stared at the script as if it could blink back at her.“What happened that night?” she asked, her voice small and rough.Damon stood behind her, his silhouette reflected in the cracked mirror across the room. The smoke-stained walls did little to soften the weight of his silence.“You collapsed onstage,” he finally said. “A full house…opening night. You froze during your final monologue, then tried to leave mid-scene. No one knew what was happening until the lights exploded. Then fire…panic…screams.”Bliss pressed the script to h
The photo sat on the nightstand like a sleeping ghost, still whispering threats even in silence. Bliss hadn’t moved it. She’d simply stared at it for hours the night before, then drifted into a restless sleep where shadows spoke in riddles and mirrors refused to reflect.Now the morning sun streamed across the room, casting golden light on the edges of the manila envelope. She blinked awake, her pulse already racing before she sat up.The back of the photo still read: “You think the cameras are your biggest threat?”She stared at it for a long time, then slowly slipped it back into the envelope. Her fingers lingered on the seal, tempted to throw it in the trash, burn it, or mail it to nowhere. But that would be running. She’d done enough of that.She grabbed her bag and slid the envelope inside.Damon didn’t need to know. Not yet. Not until she figured out what this was really about. If she told him, she knew exactly what would happen. He’d pull her from the set, lock the doors, place
The photo sat on the nightstand like a sleeping ghost, still whispering threats even in silence. Bliss hadn’t moved it. She’d simply stared at it for hours the night before, then drifted into a restless sleep where shadows spoke in riddles and mirrors refused to reflect.Now the morning sun streamed across the room, casting golden light on the edges of the manila envelope. She blinked awake, her pulse already racing before she sat up.The back of the photo still read: “You think the cameras are your biggest threat?”She stared at it for a long time, then slowly slipped it back into the envelope. Her fingers lingered on the seal, tempted to throw it in the trash, burn it, or mail it to nowhere. But that would be running. She’d done enough of that.She grabbed her bag and slid the envelope inside.Damon didn’t need to know. Not yet. Not until she
Bliss stood at the edge of the soundstage, her fingers lightly brushing the side of her jeans. She wasn’t wearing anything remarkable, just a simple black tee and some worn sneakers. But it felt like every eye on set was pinned to her, measuring, watching, waiting.“Bliss Langford, right?” a voice called out.She turned. A slender man with silver hair and a sharp jawline approached, holding a leather-bound script in one hand and a half-eaten protein bar in the other. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, yet there was an energy in his stride that felt electric.“I’m Marcus. Director. Welcome to No Sleep Till Dawn.” His handshake was firm, almost grounding.“Thank you,” Bliss replied, managing a smile. “It’s... surreal.”He laughed. “That’s the business. We trade in illusions.”As Marcus moved on to bark directions at a lighting technician, Bliss turned toward the camera rig. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest. She wasn’t just playing a role today. She was putting herself out the
Bliss stood outside the imposing building, her heart thudding in her chest as she stared up at the sleek glass and steel structure. The acting academy’s name glimmered in silver letters on the entrance, a symbol of success that seemed lightyears away from where she stood.It wasn’t supposed to feel like this, she reminded herself. She had taken Damon’s advice. She had decided to take the first step toward reclaiming her life, toward becoming who she had always wanted to be. And yet, as she pushed open the glass door and stepped inside, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was somehow out of place.The lobby was bustling with the elite, polished faces, and sharp suits of people who belonged here. They had that effortless grace, the kind of air that spoke of years spent in these rooms. Bliss felt like an imposter, a girl who had stumbled into a world she had no business being in. Her clothes, simple and understated,
Bliss woke up the next morning with a heavy head, as though the weight of everything she’d learned had pressed down on her while she slept. The room around her was still, too still, as though the world had paused just for her. She reached out instinctively for the cassette tapes, still resting on the bedside table, the faint smell of the leather box still lingering in the air.Her hand closed around the cassette player, her fingers trembling as she held the cold plastic in her palm. The voice still echoed in her mind, the same message that had left her breathless and shaken.'“He says he’s protecting you. But ask him what he did to your sister.”'The words hit her like a punch to the gut. Sister? She didn’t even know she had a sister.Her heart pounded in her chest, but she pushed the feeling away. The silence in the room was suffocating, and she wanted to