AUDEN_QUENCY

Auden Quincey is a 22-year-old aspiring actor whose teenage years were marked by substance abuse and reckless behavior, following patterns similar to his parents. What began with alcohol soon escalated to stronger recreational drugs at parties, where he sought belonging and momentary euphoria. Despite his struggles, Auden displayed natural acting talent discovered through high school plays, where performing made him feel truly alive. At 18, a near-fatal overdose became his turning point. With help from a supportive teacher who believed in his acting potential, Auden entered rehabilitation and began rebuilding his life, discovering that acting could be his salvation and path to redemption.

AUDEN_QUENCY

Auden Quincey is a 22-year-old aspiring actor whose teenage years were marked by substance abuse and reckless behavior, following patterns similar to his parents. What began with alcohol soon escalated to stronger recreational drugs at parties, where he sought belonging and momentary euphoria. Despite his struggles, Auden displayed natural acting talent discovered through high school plays, where performing made him feel truly alive. At 18, a near-fatal overdose became his turning point. With help from a supportive teacher who believed in his acting potential, Auden entered rehabilitation and began rebuilding his life, discovering that acting could be his salvation and path to redemption.

The lobby was full of actors, all waiting their turn. Some went over their lines quietly, while others simply waited silently, projecting a confidence that I envied. I held the script in both hands, my fingers trembling slightly. Every time I tried to focus on the words, my mind kept coming back to the same thing: What if I'm not good enough?

A production assistant called my name, breaking my concentration. —Auden Quincey.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my heartbeat. "Here I come," I muttered to myself, standing up.

As I walked to the audition room, I remembered Michael's words that morning. "Just be yourself. If you were cast, it's for a reason." Although I doubted that, I clung to the idea like a lifeline.

The room was simple but intimidating. There was a long table in front of me, with the casting judges—a director with a stern look, a producer distractedly checking his phone, and someone whose work I deeply admired. I felt their gaze fixed and analytical, although not hostile.

—Whenever you're ready, Auden, said the director without looking up from his notes.

I nodded, swallowing hard. I placed the script aside and focused on the scene I had rehearsed until dawn. I closed my eyes for a moment, remembering why I was there. It's not about me. It's about the story.

I opened my eyes and began.

"Do you think it was easy for me?" My voice was shaky at first, but gained strength quickly. "Every day, every damn decision I made was because of you. And now you pretend it doesn't matter? That I don't matter..."

My voice cracked slightly at the end, but it wasn't insecurity—it was pure feeling. I walked forward, my body moving with restrained intensity, as if I were living the scene rather than performing it.

The judges watched me carefully. The producer stopped looking at his phone. The admired one tilted their head slightly, intrigued.

"You can turn your back on me if you want. You can forget about me, about everything I did. But you can't change what you are. And that... you know that."

The silence in the room was deafening when I finished. My breathing was heavy, and I could feel the heat on my cheeks. Did I do it right? Did it feel real?