"And now you shall live again my child."
What? Who is it? I don't understand…
…
A single distant echo morphed into indistinct whispers, tugging me back to consciousness.
Man Speaking Dialogue:
"Is it not my love, the night that bears no moon, will hold the guilt of our hearts?
Thus, for this night alone, let it hold all our desires…"
A thunderous applaud filled the dazzling ambiance as my heart rushed to go with the beat. Cold sweat dotted my forehead as stale theater air — not the damp prison cell air— filled my lungs. I wasn't dreaming. My mind hazed as panic filled my heart. My vision blurred and my knees buckled under the weight of hurried panting breaths and disbelief.
I felt a tug on my wrist bringing my vision back to the man playing Romeo beside me. The very hand, once a source of comfort now builds disgust and rage within me.
Jordan tugged my wrist. He leaned close and mouthed,
"What's wrong, Lena?"
The director of the Hearts & passion troupe had spent months on this spin off of Romeo & Juliet. I was never meant to be Juliet. This role was not written for the likes of me. Someone like me… I hate it how easily self-reprimand rolls off my tongue.
The stage curtains fell flawlessly separating the crew from the crowd. Without delay, for the second time of my life I grab the hem of the most beautiful dress I have worn in my life - Juliet's princess ball dress and run backstage.
I pass by Alya- the original Juliet sitting with her feet up on a stool with a cast on. Her face scrunched up with rage and jealousy. Just like it had been before. In the past I would have been cowering beneath her feet. That's how I had always been- no that's how I was trained to be- the perfect doormat. Without doubt even now she is preparing herself on how to get back at me for taking her spot- though I had no say in this matter to begin with.
Ignoring all the whispers, taunts and jealousy filled gazes, I make my way to the powder room. I had no time for fear or other nonsense — something impossible had just happened. And then I saw her: the girl in the mirror who looked back at me was the 15-year-old girl that I could hardly remember.
When was the last time I saw my own face without a scar? Without the dark shadows of death and torture? And when has my feet felt so light, without a limp?
A silent scream threatened to escape my throat but I quickly cover my face with my hands – which are still soft and young.
I was back. As hard as it is to believe, I have come back in time. A time where it hadn't gotten worse. I haven't gone through my worst nightmare. Not yet.
Thank you. Thanks to whoever made this miracle.
I wrap my arms around myself and soak in the moment; calming my heart that was filled with rage, desperation, sadness and betrayal. I have endured a death more horrifying than any sinner could imagine… and now, as relief washes over me, my entire body tremble with reality setting in.
I have come back.