Observation - Cillian Murphy

Coldness

The fever corrupted itself through me. My body, as weak as it has ever been, was imploring for nutrition and mercy.

I haven't slept the entire night. An acidic drink in my hand yellowed the spotless cup. As I drank, the sudden sensation of rotation hugged me from behind. The cup cloned itself in my eyes, gradually closing them.

Under a warm blanket, with a roaming flush on my face, I found myself slipping, thinking I was transforming upwards. It enveloped my forehead, my cheeks, my ears. Feeling my brain lose itself away, I ran through my hair with my slim fingers, the limbs almost falling apart. Brushing my palms to stay awake and covering my entire face, the alarm rang.

'Shit, I have an interview with Cillian today,' I thought to myself. 'How am I supposed to be composed in a state like this?'

Jumping from my bed, I sprinted over to my suitcase, which lay halfway closed from the clothes I'd brought. An intolerable sound rang through my entire body. 'I was weak,' I'd thought.

Chills creeping through, I'd fallen over the suitcase, finding it hard to move back up.

-

It wasn't winter, but it also wasn't cold. I struggled, no matter how hard I tried, to bring myself to eat. The slowness of the moves concerned Jodie, who sat across me, her plate full of veggies.

"You need to eat, Rochelle." She expressed, almost whispering. There was a concern in her voice. Somehow, it trembled through.

"I can't. The fever is getting through me... and I'm too weak to sit through that interview. Maybe we should postpone it." I shook my head, feeling my neck ache.

"You know that we leave tomorrow. You need to force yourself!"

"Look, I will definitely fall asleep on that chair while the interviewer asks me a monotone question to which I've replied already a thousand times. So, no! I don't want to do it!" I raised my voice, looking into her frightened hazel eyes.

I found myself standing in front of the building two hours later, with Cillian fixing his sleek hair next to me.

I wondered how long Cillian would remain unchanged, whether he felt something deep down. Was he just jumping from one feeling to another with his new girlfriend? Did she really mean so much to him, or was he trying to make me jealous?

I wondered if his heartless attitude would continue in the future, and well, did he know how many times a day he crossed my mind? I think I've already created a small shrine for him.

Conflict penetrated my entire body, making it more exhausted than it already was. I felt constricted from motion, and my legs seemed not to listen to me.

I looked down at my hands, which moved in their ways, creating a soft aura around the fingers with each movement.

In the interview room, it felt hot and impossible to breathe. It was as if my lungs were tired of getting oxygen and just decided to relax for a couple of minutes. To calm myself down, I brought a small glass of water to my lips, accidentally spilling a bit on my new leopard-patterned jeans.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I'm so clumsy today," I voiced, looking at the interviewee as she handed me over a box of napkins.

"Don't worry about it," she mouthed, smiling.

I couldn't remember most of the interview as I felt distant and tired. The voices and sounds of people around me blended into one, making it impossible to escape. I wanted to run, to scream for help once it was my turn to speak about the fresh experience of being on set.

Sitting next to Cillian, I felt scared. His cold energy, his icy blue eyes avoiding my direction, the silent treatment he's given me for no particular reason. I felt almost unreal, almost like I floated in the sky and stared at myself from a specific angle.

My eyes slowly drifted downwards. I found it hard to stay back in a chair when my head spun in every position possible.

"And Rochelle, the final question, have you ever-"

A sudden fall of my body. Darkness.