It’s all an act. It’s not real. The blood is fake. The murders are scripted. It’s all pretend.
That is until it’s not and I no longer know how to go back to just acting like the bad guy I’m not really supposed to be.
Then I’m forced to make a different kind of movie, and the praises from the cameraman are enough for me to ignore the chain around my ankle.
They’re enough for me to overlook the bodies falling around me, and they’re enough for me not to care about going back to how things were.
I’m his star, and as long as he’s filming, I want to be sure to always put on the best show for him.
