Run Ballerina,Run

Thinking ItThrough

My fairly large apartment was just as clean as I'd left it- I have to say I was kind of expecting some sort of vandalism, a message on the wall or something. It seemed like there should be something wrong with it, since so many things have gone wrong in the last 24 hours. Sighing, I plopped onto my couch. My stomach growled, but I ignored it. 

I just want to rest- let everything that happened sink in. I thought about dance, and the dancers who were injured alongside me. Though my toes were just fine, and dancing is still a option for me, I had been told some of the others weren't so lucky. The cuts had been efective on an external level as well as an internal level. The tissue was damaged beyond immediate repair- some were told they couldn't dance for another two years.

A whole two years without dancing. Sounds more like hell to me. Sure, it wa tiring and frustrating, but if it weren't there? Unimaginable. I pushed my legs over the side of the couch and made my way into the kitchen. I set a pot on the stove, and filling it with water added a few spices.

Who? That was the main question right now. Who would do this to us? Sure, we all probably have made enemies, in this business, you have to if you want to survive, but I don't think it would be anything bad enough to kill Lacie and seriously injure the rest of us. My thoughts spun out of control as the message came back to me. I knew it was in my lipstick the moment I saw it- I saw that color too often. It was my special blend from Russia, and though there were plenty of imitaters here, none could copy the rich color and thickness.

Sure, the person at hand may have just picked a bag and found the lipstick, but I had a wierd unch that they targeted my bag. Why? I wasn't sure- I had my share of enemies, but nothing more than jealous girls when I get the role they aimed for in a ballet.

Maybe I was over analyzing this. Maybe it was just some random maniac, who chose a random dance studio, with completely random victims, who was probably sitting at home right now, laughing at people like me, trying to guess their motives. Shaking my head at myself, I noticed the pot was about to overflow. I rushed and turned the flame down, adding some udon noodles. Yum.

Filling my bowl to the rim with noodles, I switched on the television. Some sort of soap opera was on and as I flipped the channels, between intervals I saw the news. Stopping on it,I saw our story flashed on the news front page. They were showing pictures of our toes shoes, and though they didn't have a picture to display, they did a damn good job of describing Lacie's grotesque face. This is disgusting. Who wants to hear about this stuff anyway? I automatically answered my own question. Every human wants to hear this, see this. We just have that kind of sick curiosity. That is, until it happens to you.

I switched the television back off. I felt like I was going to be sick. Losing my apetite, I set the untouched bowl of udon back on the table and picked up my laptop. I opened my email and saw four unread messages. Two were from the company, one was spam and the other- from my grandfather. I deleted the spam and opened the first from the company, reminding me we still have practice tonight, if you could still dance. The next informed us they had already replaced Lacie with a man named Ryan.

Thats all this company cared about-their show. It repulsed me that even after a director has been brutally, ritualistically murdered, several dancers have been impaired, they couldn't even offer one day off. I guess I shouldn't complain- this is the career I chose- and I loved it. I just can't say the same for the people I work with.

I snapped the laptop down without shutting it down properly,  and began rubbing my temples. My whole body aches, as does my head. As I was about to reach for my phone to set an alarm, I remembered; mine had been stolen a few weeks ago. So why ddi the police said I called? Even after I explained to them my phone situation, they insisted I had called. I didn't even have any friends to tell after it had been stolen so know one knew. So someone could back me up  more specifically.

It doesn't matter anymore anyway- they were deadset on the fact that I called the number. I turned on my side and closed my eyes- I wouldn't' sleep for too long, I just wanted to know I was still capable of sleeping soundly, without horrifying nightmares.

I did fall into a sleep, but not a dreamless one.

There was so much snow. My eight year old form stuck out her tongue, eating the flakes as if they were cotton candy. I looked down, expecting a blanket of snow to cover the ground, but instead I found myself standing in bright red blood. However, I wasn't alarmed. I knew it had come from the butchery we owned. Sometimes, we just dumped the blood onto the ground instead of properly getting rid of it which was tiresome and boring.

Now I was 15, and entering a dance hall. It wasn't my usual one, it was a new, foreign one. My hands trembled before opening the doors. As I did, a man was standing there with his back turned to me but the other students were absent. No saying a word nor turning around he pressed play on the cassette player. The music was incredibly fats, and I found myself struggling to keep up. The man didn't say a word, but I was so scared to mess up, I strained to keep my pace. Hours past, and the music never stopped. I was exhausted, but I refused to stop. The man, what would he do if I did? My feet bled and bled, but I continued dancing. I won't stop. Not until I know this man will think I've done enough.

Then, the man began turning. I was filled with the excitement of knowing the dance would finally come to an end, and then I saw him. He had no face. It was like someone had wiped his face clean off. Bits of his bone showed through the meat of his face, but all skin was gone. I gagged as I accessed his broken features. He stepped closer, and then waltzed towards me. I was frozen in a never ending balance as he approached me. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer to his decaying face. I began to dry heave as he led my other arm to his and we began waltzing around the room.

He lowereed his head to mine, his dry whisper echoed in my ears. "You can't run away now, can you?"

I woke in a cold sweat, gripping my legs close to me. Shuddering in the darkness- wait. Darkness? I ran into my bedroom to see the clock read 6:15. I have dance! In fifteen minutes! I pulled my hair back quickly and effciently into a wraparound bun, ripped out my tights and leotard from my dresser and hurriedly began putting them on. When I was finally dressed, I hopped in my car and sped down the road.

I arrived more or less on time, and eneterd the studio. The new tutor was facing away from me, and I couldn't stop the fear that raced through me for a brief second. But there were other students here, one of which he was speaking to. I'm sure if he didn't have a face, she would be slightly terrified.

As he finally turned towards me, I breathed a sigh of relief. He was tall, but he had a face with brown eyes, tanned skin and dark hair he held back in a low shirt ponytail, though there was a rebel lock that seemed to say it didn't want to be restrained. He flashed me a quick smile, and I gingerly smiled back. As we began rehearsal, I felt my earlier feelings melt away. He wasn't as mean as Lacie, though he was strict on our form.

Practice ended an hour late, but we got a lot accomplished. I felt so happy after dancing, I forgot I even had worries, that is, until we went to the changing room.