twenty two.

THE PAPER HAD only one line: Dolion hangs himself. The alternative end, the Director's dream, and probably Genevieve's regret.

Nathan really appreciated that Adelaide didn't speak for a minute, didn't even try to comfort him or anything. Silence. He let the paper down, sighing shakily. He'd seen this coming. He'd told himself he was already half down in the grave, and still it instilled a strikingly different type of terror-the kind so dense and heavy it swallowed his heart like a blackhole.

"Nate . . . I know this is terrible and I can't imagine how scared you are right now, but please don't panic, yeah?" Adelaide finally tried, voice so soft, so mellow, as if Nathan was already dying in front or her. "We won't let that happen. I'll distract him. I have a plan. You won't die."

When Nathan caught Adelaide's gaze, he surprised himself with the capability to contain the desperate need to cry. He nodded.

Adelaide was inspecting Nathan now, frowning. Like she was wordlessly accusing him, like she could read his mind and extract thoughts he hadn't even acknowledged yet.

"Whatever happens," she said, eyes now glinting with a gentle warning, "you don't jump. I'll never forgive you if you do."

Nathan realized she must've had the thought herself when she'd stood on the chair, noose around her neck: why not end this pain, end this prolonged state of dying? Why not let hearts rest in their chests and bodies in their coffins? Because she feared death and he didn't want to die yet, that was why.

"I won't," Nathan said and he meant it.

Adelaide's stern expression faded, and she laughed in a strained way. "You're gonna make it out," she said, squeezing Nathan's shoulder. It made him wince slightly but he appreciated the intentions anyway. "And you're gonna get the waterbed you wanted- wait, gosh . . ." She quickly took her hand off his shoulder and face-palmed. "That . . . That hurt, didn't it?"

Nathan shook his head. "No. It's okay."

"I'm sorry," Adelaide quickly said. Nathan hoped she wouldn't start with an endless string of apologies. "I didn't mean to."

"I said it's okay." Nathan's heart thumped fast and hard. Fast, fast, fast. It needed to slow down before it'd explode. The blood rushed, and he could feel the heat along his neck and cheeks already. "He's probably gonna call us out any minute now. He won't give us time, I'm sure."

Adelaide glanced at the door. "Yeah, it makes sense."

Two minutes until the Director gave the confirmation: "You have five minutes, my actors. I'll call my heroine on stage first. Then my villain. You don't have anything to prepare."

Once the Director's voice dissolved in their ears, Nathan and Adelaide focused on each other. They stood, face to face. Nathan's shaky breath filled the silence. He tried calming his racing pulse.

"I won't say anything. I know it won't help," Adelaide said. Nathan's hands were still at his sides until Adelaide's found them. She held them, not too loose but not too tight. Like she knew there was and wasn't any hope.

"Hug me," Nathan said and leant in first. He must've startled Adelaide because for a second she froze, but then she quickly reciprocated. Nathan wished he could close his eyes, wished he could relax for one second, but he couldn't. Chin on her shoulder but his eyes remained wide and alert and worried.

Like last time, the rattle of chains forced them apart. But this time there was no cycle; this wouldn't happen again. There was no alternative end to the alternative end.

"He probably wants to tie you like he did to me," Nathan said.

"I'm not worried about me."

This made Nathan's gut twist. Once the door opened fully, Adelaide stepped past Nathan, closer to the threshold. She didn't leave his hands so she made him turn with her. Now his heart constricted. Only when she was far enough did she let go, and he wished she hadn't.

With an unsettled stomach, Nathan watched her step out. The Director closed the door behind. One minute. Two minutes. Then three, four, then the door opened again. No command, though. Nathan's nerves withered as he crossed the threshold and walked up the stair-steps.

Up there, he found two things: Adelaide tied by the wrist to the chords, and the Director holding a glass of whiskey or wine (celebration assumably. Nathan couldn't see the color this far) and grinning like he'd been waiting for this moment his whole life. Maybe that was true. Behind the Director was the same setup as Act Six, noose and all.

The Director sipped from the cup and placed it down on the coffee table beside the chair, then he opened his arms like an invitation for a hug. "My villain!" he said, stepping closer. "This is the part I've been waiting for. A little nervous, aren't you?"

A little nervous. More like prone to shitting his pants any minute. Nathan stood still and solid as the Director stopped right in front of him and gripped his chin, forcing it upwards so their eyes could align.

"Wanna hear something comforting?" the Director asked. "There's nothing you could have done to stop this. No amount of politeness, respect, or great acting. Nothing."

Nathan nodded, and it made the world spin for a moment. Dizziness, it was starting to intensify. Before he knew it the Director had grasped his hair, yanking it hard, and thrust his head into the wall.

Everything drowned in black. Then swirly colors. Groaning and grunting, Nathan held his head. He blinked fast, tried to get his vision straight again. And when he did he saw the Director kneeling in front of him and tying his wrists in front of his abdomen.

Nathan knew there wasn't much he could do but he fought anyway, trying to jerk aside, thrash and kick. In vain.

"Oh, look!" The Director pulled Nathan forwards then slammed him back into the wall, and while he recovered from the impact, he easily finished tying his wrists. "Isn't he cute? He's trying to fight! Come on, my villain. You know you can't do anything. I told you that I planned this, remember? Dehydrating you, making you tired. It's all planned."

"Fight?" Adelaide said. "Please, my Director. He can't even get dressed on his own. He needs me to do everything for him."

Nathan knew this was part of the plan but hearing it hurt his heart anyway. With a grip on the upper-arm, the Director hauled him to his feet and dragged him towards the chair.

"Get up on the chair."

Nathan glanced at the noose and suddenly he froze. This wasn't just acting. This was real. The Director tried pushing him but Nathan refused to move. All the way to France and now he'd die without seeing his dad. Voice shaking, Nathan jerked his shoulder back and desperately said, "Let me see my dad first."

"Let me see my dad," the Director said, voice suddenly hardening. With his foot, he pushed the coffee table closer and the sudden jerk made the glass fall off and shatter. He stepped onto the table for leverage, then caught Nathan's arms and roughly pulled him up. The force forced Nathan to move along, and suddenly he was standing on the chair, legs weak. "Like my heroine could see her mom? She grew up without parents because of your dad! You think I'll let you see him now?"

The Director tutted and gripped Nathan's shoulder with one hand, keeping him stable. With the other he reached for the noose and fitted it around Nathan's neck. Tightening it too so Nathan couldn't move out of it, especially not with his hands tied.

"Talk to him," the Director said as he stepped off the table. Pity. There was this fleeting tone of pity in his voice. "He can hear you. I loosened the ropes this time, so if you're lucky he'll get them off in time and you'll see him at the wires, screaming for me to let you go."

Everything was tight, like Nathan was trapped in a coffin. He looked at the chords but he couldn't see anything other than blurry metal. There were tears in his eyes but he fought them. There was a knife in his heart but he left it there.

"Dad," Nathan said, lashes downcast now like he was ashamed. "I'm sorry. This . . . This was supposed to be a surprise. I wanted to surprise you here. Mom and Grace told me I shouldn't, but I didn't listen. I missed you so much, you know that, r-right? I hated how much you traveled." Silence so thick it filled Nathan's own lungs and slowly suffocated him. The rope hurt where it pressed into his neck. "I-I didn't panic on the plane. I wanted to tell you that, I thought you'd be proud I'm getting better at managing my anxiety. But I had panic attack here. And you weren't there to make it better. I hate this. I hate this so much."

It was getting harder for Nathan to speak, to let the words out past the constriction in and around his throat. Still, he continued: "I promised myself I won't believe all the shit I heard about you until it comes out of your mouth. But I can't talk to you now, so I'll give you the benefit of doubt." Subconsciously, Nathan tried raising his hands to pull the rope a little off his neck, but then he remembered they were tied. "A-And . . . Dad?"

Muffled noises again, someone fighting to speak. "I don't wanna die like this," Nathan said, his heart burning behind bruised ribs. "I don't wanna die alone."

"Touching." The Director snorted. "That's exactly how you're going to die. Alone. Too bad. Now come on, my villain, jump. Let us see you dead."

Nathan fought to keep his knees straight. Jump. He could do that. He could end this. But he didn't want to, didn't want to leave without his last satisfaction. The air scorched his lungs. The world yelled at him to die.

"So that's it?" Adelaide said. If Nathan didn't know her too well, the nonchalance in her voice would fool him. "He's just gonna die. That's what he wants. He doesn't look like he's so happy about living."

The Director laughed, pulling the knife out of his pocket. He brandished it to Adelaide with a sick smile then looked at Nathan, nearing it to his legs. "Doesn't look like he's gonna jump on his own. We can have some fun. Watch, my heroine."

Nathan held his breath until the Director slashed a wound along his leg; that was when he winced, almost knocking himself off the chair but he fought for balance. Quickly, he turned towards the backrest and gripped it, but the awkwardly craned position pressured his neck a little more.

"Come on, my villain. How long can you last? I'll keep wounding your legs until you fall off on your own."

And the Director did that, and Adelaide was watching and Nathan wanted to shout at her: where's your plan now? Where's the friend that was worried about me? Legs now bleeding, pants soaked. Metal cutting and flesh open. The Director laughed. Nathan knew he wouldn't last long.

"Yeah, and what's next?" Adelaide said. "He still dies and that's what he wants. Besides, you're enjoying this, my Director. I'm not. You got to take your anger on him but I didn't."

The notion forced a silence. Nathan breathed out, deep and desperate, as soon as the knife stopped cutting. The Director turned to Adelaide. Nathan couldn't see his face but he was sure he was frowning. Apprehensive. It worked, kinda.

"What do you want then, my heroine?"

"I say we torture him first. I wanna do it."

"But-"

"All this time I was stuck in the same room with this annoying brat. I'm so done with him. I wanna let out the anger too," Adelaide said. "And it's my mom that died. She was just your friend. You didn't suffer as much as I did. Not even half as much. I get to choose what I wanna do with him and how he dies. Not you."

So for once, Adelaide used the authority she'd acquired on the Director. It must've startled him, because he was silent. Unsure. Nathan kept trying to tilt his chin up, relieving the pressure against his throat.

"Come on, my Director. I'm your heroine. I'm Genevieve's daughter. Listen to me. Do me a favor and untie me. Then we'll torture him together and we'll kill him in a more painful way."

Silence. With his mouth parted a sliver, Nathan watched the Director stand for a second. But then he moved. He complied, and then he was there, beside Adelaide, untying her wrist. She even gave him a tiny hug and maybe it was the low supply of oxygen but Nathan couldn't tell what was real and what was not anymore.

Adelaide held the Director's hand and both headed back towards the chair. "Come on, take the noose off his neck," she said. "We'll throw him off the chair and the funs begins. I know that's what my mom wants us to do. I hear her telling me to avenge her. To make him suffer."

The idiot thankfully really listened to her. As if in a trance, the Director stood on the table and loosened the rope around Nathan's neck. It made Nathan wheeze, the sudden influx of oxygen. He almost fell off the chair but Adelaide caught his arm, supporting him. He looked down at her. Her eyes were glistening, and then she roughly shoved him to the floor.

Nathan landed on his side. His shoulder soaked the impact. Pain exploded and he could swear he heard a crack. Exhausted, he fell face-down and bumped his nose. When he pressed his palms to the floor, raising himself off the planks, his shoulder throbbed under the pressure. A hand caught his arm. Flipped him onto his back. The light dropped straight into his eyes, blinding him.

The light didn't blind him-he'd misinterpreted that, the reason. The pain came a second late: someone had kicked him in the ribs. Whimpering, Nathan rolled to the other side but another foot crashed into his side. Two. Two people were kicking him.

They were laughing in the background, Adelaide and the Director. Fuck this plan, Nathan wanted to say. If the noose didn't kill him, then this would. Dehydrated and starved and exhausted, how much more could he handle?

The yellow of the light mixed with the brown of the planks and the red of Adelaide's hair. Like someone was shaking the universe around Nathan. Pain. Pain. Pain. That was all he could feel. A kick here and a punch there, and death right around the corner.

"Now give me the gun," Adelaide said. "I'll shoot him."

The distinct sound of Adelaide's voice gave Nathan a sense of reality again. He opened his eyes, hardly, but he did. Adelaide was above him. It took him a moment to realize she was crying. He wanted to tell her that this wouldn't work, that he could feel his body failing.

"My heroine, I th-"

"I said, give me that gun."

Nathan watched as Adelaide snatched the shotgun from the Director, then pressed it into Nathan's stomach. He looked at her and he saw it in her eyes. The sincerity and the apology.

"My heroine," the Director said. "It d-"

"You know what?" Adelaide's voice quivered but she composed herself. Suddenly, she flung the gun into the distance, far away. Then she looked at the Director. "The gun's too easy. Give me the knife. It's more painful."

Even with the haze clouding Nathan's head, a realization hit him. The gun must've been empty. That was why the Director hadn't argued about throwing it. He'd been in the middle of inhaling when the tip of the knife nudged his chest, making him freeze. Where it touched turned ice-cold.

Nathan focused on not moving his chest. He stared up, at Adelaide holding the knife against him. The Director seemed kinda cautious. If she was planning to stab him, she had to do it fast.

I trust you, Nathan thought to himself. Adelaide wouldn't betray him. She'd never. He closed his eyes, even with a blade still balanced on him. And he waited. Waited. Waited. Maybe for his gut to be punctured, but mostly for Adelaide to match his expectation.

The knife was pulled off him. The world lagged. Someone groaned, someone else cried out. Nathan's eyes shot open; Adelaide had stabbed the Director. Doubled over, he was grunting. Adelaide pulled the knife out of him and watched him drop onto floor.

The knife fell from Adelaide's hand with a clatter. She was shaking all over, especially her hands. Even her knees.

"The knife," Nathan said. Something wasn't right. "Don't leave it beside him."

His strained voice must've shattered Adelaide's trance, because suddenly she turned to him, her face ghostly pale. She nodded. With wary movements, she kicked the knife away from the Director like she was scared of touching it.

"I-I need to get you out of here," Adelaide said, crouching down beside Nathan and shakily untying his wrists. Took her a minute to do it. This close, he could see the terror in her eyes. Adelaide touched his arm. "Can you move?"

Nathan tried. He tried pulling himself along with Adelaide but it couldn't happen. The slightest effort radiated sharp pain all across him. Especially his chest. When he inhaled, it hurt even more, made him want to stop breathing. She managed to help him sit with his good shoulder leaning against the chords, but nothing more. Probably because she was disoriented, unable to cope with the fact that she'd just stabbed someone.

"Gosh, my hands are shaking so much. I'm-I-"

"Keys," someone said breathlessly. Something latched onto the wires beside Nathan and Adelaide, making the entire thing convulse. Nathan's heart stopped. He turned and glanced at the audience area. He squinted until his temples throbbed, until he saw his dad there, flesh and bones, hanging onto the the chords. "He's got keys. Get them and open the door for me. It's chained from the inside. I'll carry Nate. Move!"

All this time, through standing on the chair with a noose around his neck, through the pain of two people kicking him in the chest, Nathan hadn't outright cried. But now, hearing his dad's voice, seeing his face-his actual face-the tears fell. All of them.

Adelaide didn't waste time; she hurried to find the keys. Nathan tried twisting his torso so he could see his dad better. "Dad," he said, but he didn't find it in him to say anything else. When he touched the chord, his fingertips collided with his dad's and the world eased around him.

"God, Nate," Christopher said. For the first time, his voice was shaking. "Son, hang on for me, yeah? I'm gonna get you out of here. There are sirens outside, can you hear them? The police are gonna bust in any minute, and they'll save you and- and I'm never traveling again, I swear to God, I'm never leaving you again."

Nathan's heart clenched. He couldn't hear the sirens but he nodded anyway, trying to scoot closer to his dad but the wounds on his legs burnt.

"Found them! He dropped them." Adelaide hurried over to the door that led to the audience area, disappearing there. The sound of keys jiggling echoed even across the distance.

Christopher pushed his hand in between the wires and gently caught Nathan's chin, angling his face towards him. "Nate, look at me, okay? Keep looking here," he said. "Focus on breathing. Remember what I taught you to do when you're panicking? It'll help you now."

The problem wasn't the technique; the problem was that the inhalation itself hurt. "Chest . . ." Nathan tried shifting. Sweat trickled down the side of his neck. "Hurts so much."

"The fucking bastard, he bruised your ribs," Christopher said, his voice both soft and hard. He reached in as much as he could to touch Nathan's hair whilst turning to check on Adelaide, but that was when he froze. Something else caught his attention, from the Director's side.

Everything went to shit from there.

Nathan looked at the Director. He was getting up again, one hand holding the stab-wound and the other grasping for a glass shard off the floor. He was snarling, furious even though in pain. Time slowed down. Noises hard to hear, words hard to say. The chords shook again. Footsteps thumped behind. The Director pushed the chair, throwing it in Adelaide's direction. She yelped, must have, and fell with a thud.

Nathan knew he needed to get away. Adrenalin rushed in his veins, and he tried scrambling away, holding onto the wires. A gun clicked, but no bullet came out. Christopher shouted something in frustration. Nathan couldn't tell anymore. The last thing he felt was a hand grasping his shoulder and turning him around until he was facing the Director's crazed bloodshot eyes, and the last thing he heard was his voice:

"This doesn't end until you die, my villain."

And then the Director shoved the glass shard straight into Nathan's stomach.

Before Nathan could even feel the pain, his ears rang. Loud. So loud that for a few disorienting seconds, it felt like there was nothing else in the world.

But then it came: the scorching heat where the glass punctured him. The Director's hand tightened on Nathan's shoulder. Nathan looked at the wound, at the glass almost fully buried in him, then back at the Director as he stumbled back again. Christopher ran past Nathan, useless shotgun in his hand. He rammed it into the Director's head and frantically cursed at
him.

Everything was even slower now. Everything a little blurrier. It took Nathan a while to realize Adelaide was beside him, crying, but he couldn't hear her. And his dad had knelt down beside him too now, talking, but he couldn't understand him.

Broken glass-of all things, of all things he could've been stabbed with-in his stomach, blood gushing out. The entire area throbbed and blazed like it caught fire. Nathan slumped, and he crashed into someone's chest. He looked up. He found his dad's jawline. Beside him, Adelaide was holding Nathan's hand.

Nate, Nate, stay awake for me. Someone was saying that, barely loudly enough to break past his clogged ears. Nathan strained to keep his eyes open, to focus on their words.

"-re outside. They're gonna come in any moment, please, Nate, hang on," Adelaide was saying.

Nathan tilted his chin up, glancing at his dad instead. "It's true?" he said. "All . . . All the things . . ."

"Shh." Christopher's eyes were teary and exhausted. He swept Nathan's hair off his forehead. "Nate, don't talk, yeah? You're bleeding."

"Tell me. Don't let me die doubting you. Please."

"I swear to God, Nate, the script was biased. That's not exactly how it happened. Your mom knows. I confessed and we worked it-"

"That doesn't matter now!" Adelaide's voice cracked. Her hand trembled against Nathan's. Still, she smiled, or tried to. "N-Nate, you know I love you, right? I-I never meant for this happen. You won't die, paramedics will help you-"

It was like Nathan couldn't hear her anymore. He hid his face against his dad's shoulder, grasping his clothes with one hand. And he cried with him. For life and for death, for pain and for comfort. For truth and for lies. Nathan knew he was dying now.

Christopher was still holding Nathan close to his chest, but suddenly Nathan felt him slip an arm under his knees, lifting him up. Nathan hung onto him tighter. When he tilted his head, he saw the glass in him again and he made a distressed noise.

"Take it out," Nathan said. "I-I don't want it."

"No." Adelaide must've stood up as well, and she was still holding Nathan's hand, squeezing it. "We can't do that, yeah? It'll make you bleed more. Forget about it. Look at me, I'm here. Stay with me, please, Nate, please."

Nathan looked at Adelaide. She was still trying to smile at him and it reminded him of every time she helped him. Every time she comforted him. And suddenly everything flashed before his eyes, the world fading into memories. When he was at home and safe and happy. When he didn't know what real pain meant. When he could take Max on a walk and vent to his sister about everything that made him sad and love his mom and miss his dad. When he wasn't Dolion or the Director's villain. When he was Nathan. Just Nathan. Christopher's son. The boy with a dimple on his left cheek just like his dad's. When breathing wasn't hard. When living didn't feel so impossible. When he hated that his house was near a graveyard but now he didn't mind anymore. At least he'd be close.

Suddenly, the hunger and thirst disappeared. Heartbeats slowing, slower, slower. Lungs giving up and breaths dwindling. Light . . . Bright, bright, light shadowed Nathan's vision. Still, he could hear Adelaide and his dad, both crying and choking on words. He could feel his dad's mouth near his ear, telling him: you're not alone, son, you're not alone. And Adelaide . . . She was close, kissing his head or his temple, and her tears trickled on his cheek, and he felt her quivering breath brush his skin. Nathan saw a hazing glimpse of her face in between the light, the last thing.

"I'm sorry," he told her. And he died.

_________

a/n: despite this ending, honestly hope you enjoyed the entire ride. And yes, there is an epilogue coming!

tysm for reading/voting/commenting ❤️