out of frame (shiloh and bros

We were filming our video in the dim, dusty warehouse: you, Shiloh, and all the guys — Josiah, Elijah, Micah, Judah, David, Daniel, and the rest. We were moving quickly through the space, weaving around tall stacks of wooden crates and pallets, careful not to trip as we played out the scene. Cameras were mounted high in the corners, rolling nonstop — but their angles were fixed, blocked by piles of lumber and deep, shifting shadows.

You turned sharply to change direction, stepping around a stack, and before you could pull back far enough, your temple struck the sharp, hard edge of a protruding wooden beam. The impact was sudden and heavy, sharp enough to make your vision explode with bright spots. There was no cry, no stumble, no dramatic fall. The pain flared blindingly, then everything cut out instantly. Your legs went loose, and you slid slowly, silently down the rough wood until you lay still, half-hidden in the dark gap between two stacks.

The cameras kept recording, but they never caught it — the angle was wrong, the crates blocked the view completely. The others moved on, laughing and calling out, assuming you’d stepped around to another spot or paused to fix something. When the scene wrapped up, they gathered at the far end, breathless and talking. “Let’s head straight to the security room to watch the footage!” Shiloh called.

They waited. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen. The minutes dragged on, cold and heavy, and you never showed.

The laughter died sharp and sudden. “Where is she?” Josiah asked, his voice tight with unease. A thick, cold dread settled over the whole group. They split up, calling your name louder and louder, until Elijah’s shout cut through the gloom like a knife. “Over here — hurry!”

They skidded to a stop. Elijah was kneeling beside you, his face ashen. Your temple was split open in a deep, ugly gash, dark blood trickling thickly down your cheek and into your hair. You lay completely still, eyes closed, unresponsive.