"Three… two… one…"
The voice crackled in my earpiece, calm, precise, like a cue I'd been waiting for my entire life. My chest fluttered. The velvet curtains shivered, then slowly parted, and I stepped into the blinding light.
Every sound hit me at once—the roar of the crowd, the squeak of shoes against the stage, the soft rustle of my gown. The white silk of my dress shimmered, flowing around my legs, the slit along my left thigh giving me mobility while still looking impossibly elegant. My dark brown hair, cut short and wavy, framed my face perfectly, the stray strands catching the spotlight.
I waved. Smiled. Let the energy of hundreds of eyes settle on me. The audience didn't know it yet, but I wasn't just performing for them. I was performing for myself. For my freedom.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," I said, my voice calm, deliberate, carrying just enough warmth to sound genuine. "Tonight… I have a few wonders to show you."
The crowd erupted, a collective wave of excitement that hit me like water. I could feel the electricity crawling along my arms. My pulse raced, but I held my composure, let it flow into my performance.
I moved to a small table at center stage, letting my hands hover over a deck of cards. My movements were precise, fluid—practiced to perfection. I performed a few simple tricks, revealing chosen cards, producing the ace from behind my ear, making the queen appear from thin air. The audience leaned in, captivated. A few gasps, a few excited whispers—they were hooked.
"Now," I said, letting the tension build, "I will attempt something that has fascinated people for over a century." I let my gaze sweep the theater, letting their curiosity swell. "I will escape from this water… just as Houdini did."
The glass tank sat before me, massive, filled to the brim with water. The lights bounced off the surface, turning it into a prism of gold and silver. I let my fingers graze the cool mist that clung to it. The air smelled faintly of chlorine, sharp and crisp, and the damp chill made goosebumps rise along my arms.
I had trained for months. My lungs could hold air for thirty minutes, but tonight wasn't about endurance. Tonight was about illusion. About control. About vanishing without a trace.
I stepped closer to the tank, letting the audience see every careful movement. My eyes scanned the crowd, noting their expressions, their anticipation, their disbelief. This was my audience, but it was also my escape route. Every gasp, every widened eye, every held breath was part of the performance—but part of my plan, too.
I felt a twinge of nerves as I glanced at Lila, standing just behind the curtain. She gave me a small nod, her eyes gleaming with understanding. She knew. She always knew.
Then, I slipped into the water.
Everything changed the moment I submerged. Sound distorted, muffled by the liquid cocoon around me. Light fractured in waves, casting my surroundings into a dreamlike haze. The cool embrace of the tank pressed against my skin. For a moment, I simply floated, letting the world above me fade.
I unlocked the carefully designed restraints with practiced ease. My body moved with fluid precision, my hands and feet finding every hidden mechanism, every secret latch. The audience above had no idea what was happening beneath the surface. They saw only a girl in white, lost in danger.
Then I began the act.
I let my movements falter, just slightly. My arms flailed, my head bobbed, my body tilted as if I were struggling for air. A small cough bubbled from my lips. Tiny splashes erupted around me. Panic painted my movements. The audience gasped. A few shouted. Their fear became part of the performance, feeding it, amplifying it.
I counted silently in my head. One… two… three… Every second stretched. I felt the familiar calm inside me, the place I always visited when I needed to survive. My lungs were full, my heart steady, but my eyes told a story of desperation.
Three minutes. Perfect.
Then I let myself go completely limp, letting the water carry me. My eyes closed for a fraction of a second. My chest still rose and fell slowly, but above, the audience thought otherwise.
The tension in the theater was electric. The silence that followed my "collapse" pressed down like a heavy blanket. And then Lila, her voice cutting through the stunned hush, whispered to the nearest stage assistant:
"She… she's gone."
The audience erupted. Screams, gasps, nervous laughter, and sobs blended into a cacophony of disbelief. Some people clutched their neighbors; some dropped to their knees. A few tried to rush forward, but the stagehands blocked them efficiently. The panic was delicious. Perfect.
I floated beneath the surface, letting every second stretch, letting them truly believe I was gone. The world outside the theater didn't exist. There was only water, and silence, and the thrill of control.
Then, the sirens began. Faint at first, growing louder. The "ambulance" we had arranged was arriving. I felt a small, secret smile form beneath the water. Every detail had been planned—my disappearance, my faked death, the perfect timing. The audience would believe it.
Stagehands and paramedics—carefully placed earlier—rushed in. They slid a gurney under the tank, lifting me with seamless efficiency. My chest rose and fell slowly, my face hidden beneath the hood of a cloak I had flung over myself. Every movement, every sound, was designed to sell the illusion. Perfect.
Lights dimmed. The crowd erupted into another wave of panic and applause, unsure what they had just witnessed. The whispers, the gasps, the shock—it all fed into the story I was weaving. No one suspected. No one could.
As the gurney moved toward the ambulance doors, I let myself relax fully for the first time in months. Alive. Safe. Hidden in plain sight. Free.
The doors closed behind the "paramedics," sealing my escape. Outside, the sirens wailed, the crowd continued to react, and the theater staff scrambled to process the chaos. But I wasn't there. Not really. I was already moving toward my next step, toward the life that waited beyond the audience's disbelief.
For tonight, I was dead. And everyone bought it.