Voiceless

His tiny and lifeless body lies on the cold, wooden floor. My first instinct is to run from the scene, but fear has frozen me in place. My entire body is suddenly stiff as a board. My shoes are made of concrete. Where my legs once were they are now replaced by rubber. My back, straight and tight, is clenching every muscle from the sight. My heart is pounding, racing, thumping with the intensity of a drum. My lungs; burning from the lack of oxygen I can’t seem to find. In the depths of my throat, a blood curdling scream is desperately searching for a release. Tiny beads of sweat form on the back of my neck, starting their slow journey to the collar of my shirt. Fear creeps through my veins like a spider to a wall. Curling my fingers into my hands the clamminess becomes thicker. I Swallow hard tasting nothing but sand in my mouth. I open my mouth to release the scream, but nothing comes out. My eyes, they never leave the figure sprawled across my bedroom floor.

My mind is spinning as the blood rushes away from my head. My vision is blurred and I blink multiple times to try and see through the fog that has suddenly fallen around me. Nausea is consuming and eating away at my stomach as my rubber legs finally give out. I plummet backwards to the floor hitting a wall on my way down. I open my eyes after the impact from the fall subsides and immediately search for his body. He hasn’t moved from the position he was tossed in.

Footsteps are picking up pace and quickly getting close. The grim echoing of my fall bounces from the hallway to my mother in the next room folding laundry.

“Amanda! What was that?! Are you alright?” my mom’s panicked voice echoes back to me.

I open my mouth for a second time, and once again nothing comes out.

My mom finally reaches my room and kneels to my side in one swift and smooth motion.

“What happened? Did you fall?”

All I can do is point. I lift my arm and point a shaky index finger to the lifeless body lying on the floor. My eyes still dead set on him.

Following my finger, my mom looks to the floor and then back at me.

“You have got to be kidding me. You almost gave me a heart attack because of a dead mouse?!” she shrikes. “Get up off the floor and get me a dust pan. Some days I wonder about you, Amanda”.

She raises herself from the floor and extends her arm to help me up. As I head towards the kitchen, I hear the echoes of my mother’s hysterical laughter bouncing between the hallway walls.

Perfection Of Stage Fright

“3 minutes to show time Amanda!” With shaky hands and a racing a heart, I stare at my 3 inch white wedged heels. Standing behind the red velvet curtain, I can hear the applause from the audience on the other side. The Bridal portion of the event just ended, and the junior bridesmaid portion is up next. Along the space between the curtain and the floor, I see the flashing lights from photographers and spectators. My assistant fluffs my seamless, custom made white laced gown, making sure everything looks picture perfect. My make-up and hair stylists are working quickly; making sure nothing was touched while being dressed. My assistant lifts my arms so they are straight out to the sides to make sure no strings are hanging and each bead is in its perfect place. While standing as still as a statue, looking straight ahead, I can’t help but feel the exhaustion of the day. My day had started at 6 am, with a quick bite to eat and off to final fittings and dress rehearsals, making for a long day on the runway.

“2 minutes to show time” Leanne’s voice calls from the left of me. Leanne is the organizer of this event and is here every time I do a show. With her the show always runs perfectly. The stylists have finished putting the touch-ups of lipstick and blush, as well as a thick layer of hairspray to ensure that the bouncy, tight knit curls that took an hour to do keep their hold. My assistant puts a silver hair band on my head to complete the image. It too was custom made to match the dress; it mimics the beading on the gown to a tee. My long red hair hits my nearly bare freckled shoulder. The entire gown is being held up by two small straps that lie perfectly straight on either shoulder. My assistant lowers my arms and runs her hands along the thin straps as her finishing touch to her inspection. She then steps back to make sure she didn’t miss anything. Perfection.

“One minute”, Leanne announces, this time from directly behind me. “You are a vision in white. As soon as you walk through that curtain, all eyes are on you. You are in fashion, so they are judging what you look like but most importantly what you are wearing. Perfection is our expectation and we will accept nothing less”, my instructor’s voice repeats over and over in my head. Shoulders back, chest forward, and no smiling. Keep looking straight and above the audience, maybe then the nausea I’m feeling won’t get any worse.

“30 seconds”. The make-up and hair stylists vanish from my sight. “20 seconds”. More girls line up behind me in white gowns tailored to fit their specific bodies perfectly. The curtain is about to swing open as the room of eager brides and their families are waiting for the newest styles to take center stage. I dread this part. I dread the eyes looking at me, so many staring and judging my every move, the thought is perfectly terrifying.

“It’s show time!” she says softly to the right of me as the curtain splits down the middle and opens from the left and right in perfect sequence with the music. The cameras start to flash from every angle, the audience roars with a fierce intensity and all at once my heart stops. All those eyes are looking at me. All those people judging me. There has to be at least 100 sets. I take a deep breath, and start down the runway, thinking to myself this will all be over soon. Maybe this time I’ll get over this stage fright that I have developed from this so-called ‘perfect career’. A twitch of doubt runs through my body. Yea, I didn’t think so...