Chapter 1918

The chair slammed into Reginald's head, snapping two of its legs with a loud crack. He stumbled back a few steps before collapsing onto the ground. Blood started seeping out from his scalp, running down his face. Reginald's head was buzzing, and his face was itching. He ran his hand over it, finding blood all over his fingers. He froze for a second before a wave of sharp pain hit him in the head. He instinctively held his head and rolled on the floor. "That hurts! Are you out of your mind? How dare you hit me?" After spending more than ten years in the studio, Reginald knew the extras inside out. They all showed up with unrealistic dreams, aiming for that one chance to become famous. The pay was pathetic, but the extras put up with it. They also bore with it when they were forced to stay in a youth hostel with a bunch of people packed in one room, like a chicken coop. The extras survived on just bread and pickles, or sometimes just bread. They even took the bullying, as if they