Madalyn pulls on one of the thinner vines [i]hard[/i], and when it finally goes, she falls on the floor. She screams and shoves the vine off of her, a little whisper in her head telling her that its come to life, and now it'll wrap around her whole body, including her throat. She scrambles away from the innocent little green string-like line on the pale white floor. Her scream's echoes are finally gone, and she's reminded that she's completely alone.

…

Stephen darts behind the curtain as quickly as possible, but also trying to be slower. His throat feels swollen. He feels like he can't breathe, and he's not quite sure if he can or not. He sits down with his eyes scrunched tight against some wood holding the stage up. It doesn't creak at all, thankfully. Even in his state of panic, the part of Stephen's mind that constantly inquires of things wonders about when the stage was made.