The Story of Us | LingOrm

Chapter 8: When Time Stood Still

Ling's world was a blur of muted colors and distorted sounds. The cold, hard ground pressed against her back, a stark contrast to the warmth slowly spreading across her side. She blinked, trying to bring the world into focus, but everything remained frustratingly hazy.

Her ears rang with a high-pitched whine, drowning out most of the commotion around her. Fragmented voices filtered through, urgent and panicked, but the words were incomprehensible, as if she were underwater. Shadows moved at the edges of her vision - people, she assumed, but their faces were indistinct smudges.

Pain. It was everywhere and nowhere at once. A dull ache permeated her entire body, but specific points flared with sharp, piercing agony. Her left arm felt wrong, somehow distant and yet screaming for attention. She tried to move it, but her body refused to obey.

Confusion clouded Ling's mind. What happened? Where was she? The last thing she remembered was... what? Leaving the set? Orm's face? The memories slipped away like sand through her fingers.

A face suddenly loomed over her, mouth moving rapidly. Ling strained to understand, catching fragments: "...stay still... ambulance... coming..."

Ambulance? The word sparked a flicker of alarm in Ling's muddled brain. Was she hurt? She attempted to sit up, but a firm hand on her shoulder kept her down. The movement sent a wave of nausea through her, and the world tilted alarmingly.

As her senses slowly sharpened, new sensations made themselves known. The acrid smell of gasoline and burnt rubber. The taste of copper in her mouth. The feeling of something warm and sticky matting her hair to her forehead.

Through the chaos of her thoughts, a single coherent worry surfaced: Orm. She had to talk to Orm. They were supposed to... what? The thought slipped away, leaving only a vague sense of urgency.

Ling's eyelids grew heavy, the effort to keep them open becoming too much. As darkness began to encroach on the edges of her vision, a new sound cut through the din - a siren, growing louder.

Her last conscious thought before succumbing to the darkness was of Orm's face, and the words left unspoken between them.

===

The set buzzed with an unusual tension as Orm hurried through the entrance, her breath slightly labored from rushing. Traffic had been a nightmare, gridlocked due to some accident on the main road. As she signed in, she glanced around, expecting to see Ling's familiar face. But there was no sign of her.

"Strange," Orm muttered to herself. Ling was usually one of the first to arrive, always eager to start the day with a warm smile and a cup of coffee in hand.

As Orm made her way towards the main hall, she noticed an eerie quiet had settled over the usually bustling set. The corridor seemed deserted, devoid of the typical morning chatter and laughter.

Pushing open the double doors to the main hall, Orm was struck by the scene before her. The entire cast and crew were huddled in front of the large TV mounted on the wall, their faces a mix of shock, disbelief, and horror. The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, save for the urgent voice of the news anchor coming from the TV.

Orm's heart rate quickened as she slowly made her way towards the crowd. Something was terribly wrong.

As she approached, Jaja turned and saw her. The color drained from Jaja's face. "Orm," she whispered, reaching out as if to stop her, but Orm was already pushing past.

"What's going on?" Orm asked, her voice cutting through the silence. A few heads turned, eyes wide with a mixture of pity and dread.

P'Eclair tried to intercept her. "Orm, wait—" But it was too late.