What the hell is happening?
Hands rubbed the unknown face that stared back at me, ugly..... unfamiliar.
My thoughts flew back to the phone call. The very ridiculous phone call.
.
.
.
"... Congratulations." The person on the other end said, voice bland, bored. "The film starts in 2 days, it's short, right? But you've been practicing this scene. Come down to the practice site now, so we can rehearse."
I still didn't speak, my mouth wide open, shock gripping my vocal cords to even work. I didn't process anything, really, at first, before my first thought finally came.
I really got a fucking job?!
I couldn't believe it.
But an actor?
The hell?
No, really, this flashback is too vivid. And wrong. Delusions-- yes, this is a delusion-
Wait, then why do I have to go over there?
I don't want to, though?
"But I never appli-" I started, then stopped. Wait- ...isn't this basically... My dream come true?
Don't make fun of me, but ..
I always wanted to have a job. A real, legal one.
Like not dealing drugs, those other ones.
Can't I,, enjoy this opportunity? This must be a gift.
A gift of my escape.
Tightening my fingers around the phone, I stared up at the still cloudy ceiling, quite nervous, all of a sudden, and spoke, "I..I will get there."
The other end stayed silent, then said, "thank you for coming on such a short notice. Our last actor d- we picked you because of your acting, it's rad, ofcourse. I will send you the address to where you're supposed to come, don't be late. 3pm sharp."
I felt my mood lifting. It was stupid getting all excited for an imaginary job. "..thank you! I-"
"Stupid fucking shit, why did he have to leave at the last second .. now we have to pick the only decent actor- our film is fucking doomed..." Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
I laid there, flabbergasted.
...
"YEAH, AS IF!" THIS ISNT NO GIFT!
I threw the phone on the floor angrily, fuming. She said I got the job yet cussed me out when she didn't even have to give it to me?!
Was there a need to even speak before you hung up?
I got my hopes up for no reason!
Now I'm just as useless as me dealing drugs-- to the legal work, to the legal world! I am NOT doing this bullshit!
"GET ME OUT OF HERE!" I shouted to the ceiling, my eyes still hazy. "IM DONE! IM DONE WITH THIS BULL-"
Suddenly, my eyes met something. From the corner of my eye, a clear, sharp glint appeared, moving when I turned my head, side to side, to check if I was hallucinating. What the hell is that?
Locking my eyes on the thing, I squinted, but there was no need. This thing was gleaming as if the heavens were smiling upon it.
Yeah, as if a mirror is more special than me.
Wait, a mirror?
Leaning at the bed's edge, I glared into the gleaming mirror, it wasn't supposed to be this bright.
Suddenly, I was flashed with something.
An image.
My eyes widened, jaw dropped. This is the second time- give me a break.
But this is reasonable as well, because ..
I was flashed with the most hideous face on earth.
Bruises, tear-tracked face--
Running nose, puffy cheeks.
Worst of all-
Someone did the worst job of fucking shaving my head. Straight line down the middle-- the sides standing up like oak grasses making way for ants.
Small bandages laid atop of my bruises, but it did NOT hide my ugliness.
MY ugliness.
Who the HELL is THIS??
I have black hair! I don't have brown!
These eyes are doopy! I DO NOT have doopy eyes!
I never gotten In a fight this badly for me to have this flashback!
When even did I ever DYE my hair? NEVER??
Without thinking, I lunged towards the mirror, toppling onto the ground in the process, crawling to the mirror, eyes fixated on the fucking hideous mess in front of me.
My hands grasped it, shaking it. The image of the unfamiliar person never shook- it was rock solid on trying to prove I was now more ugly than I previously was.
Then i scooted back, crouched, and slapped my hands on my face.
What the hell is happening?
I rubbed my face, feeling the bruises, taking my appearance in.
My whole condition is forgotten-- the most important thing is my face.
Try walking into a cafe looking like this, everyone will post this type of face on the internet. Your girlfriend will abandon you, and you definitely not have the BALLS to even attempt this.
This can not be my face .... Please....
I'll rather die... I was at least looking decent back then..
"Get me out of this delusion..." My voice croaked as I spoke. Fuck, how can someone's voice sound even ugly.. this is the worst.
Life as a druggie was better than this ... How can one recover..
I don't even know why this feels so real..
Its like its actually my face. Wait. Its .. actually my face?
Why can I move so fluently? Why is this out of script? I never got a job as an actor, nor did I get beat up, look this hideous even before getting beat up (assuming), or even got my hair dyed! I was definitely better than this when I was young as well!
This isn't natural.. nor normal. Something is definitely wrong.
My face turned serious. I rubbed my face, picking the place where it didn't have so much bruises, then I slapped myself.
Act one: see if you're real. You're awake. Your alive. Slap yourself.
Done.
Then, look at the date. I looked back at the phone, it was blurry, but I picked it up. Anyways it had a few cracks .. its weak as shit.
I turned it on- looking at the date.
February 2nd, 2023.
It was February 1st when I died, wasn't it?
A day after.
I placed a hand on my chin, my face resembling that thinking emoji my bro always uses.
Act 3: think.
.
.
.
"Did I..." I started, realization slowly filling my voice, replacing the earlier sorrow by a wave. My eyes gleamed, my body tensing. I got it.
"Get kidnapped? No, not that. Soul kidnapping... YES! THAT WORD!"
"REGRESSION!"
(Its not.)