I walked into that party wearing a beautiful white dress. It was blanketed with glitter and cascaded down to the bottom of my tall white heels. It trailed behind me like a pearl sea and flowed like the body of a river snake.
I climbed the stairs, gravitating toward the sounds of music and laughter. My heart fluttered from the excitement like my ribs were a cage holding in hundreds of violent butterflies. With trembling fingertips, I lifted the black mask to my face and tied it around my head. The plastic felt snug against my cheekbones and I scrunched up my nose to adjust it in place. My identity was concealed behind glitter and lace. A wave of immunity overcame me, erupting inside of me like a white light. I felt so filled with happiness while I stomped up to the entrance and burst through those tall golden doors.
Inside the high ceilings were crisp air and swaying bodies that danced like fairies over a marble lake. Music oozed out from a grand piano and I felt the harmony vibrate between my bones. The grand piano sat in front of a raging fire contained within an iron and porcelain cage. On the seat of the piano was a man with golden hair and a white mask like a slip of silk that covered all except for his vibrant blue eyes. His fingertips danced along the keys and I danced in rhythm toward the center of the ballroom. Into the gaping mouth. There, I twirled like a ballerina caught in a music box. My white dress lifted around me like the petals of a flower caught in a breeze. I twirled and I twirled and I twirled until I grew so dizzy, I had to stop. But the room kept spinning. The dancing couples were now foursomes and their duplicated heads turned to laugh at me. What a foolish girl. Not even a drop of liquor. I blushed and shyly backed away. One more step behind me and I felt a wall block my escape.
The music stopped.
Hands gripped onto the sides of my arms and spun me around. I now faced the wall, only he was alive and beautiful. His fingertips danced along my skin like I was the flesh of his piano and suddenly, the music returned to my ears. He held one of my hands in his and placed the other on the bottom of my spine. His pupils expanded until there was only a sliver of blue left in his eyes and the white silk across his expression looked like the crest of a wave. He watched me. I watched back. We danced, side to side, to the music that was siphoned from my mind. We danced and I felt his fingers play my spine like a tuned string.
And then I felt pain. I felt the string being torn by him shredding it into pieces with the sharp edge of his razor. But he was so beautiful, I continued to dance and let him. Even when I felt the razor drag across my hips, I let him.
I touched my hands to his and then lifted my fingertips to his face. My touch stained the white silk to red as I brushed over his cheekbones. I winced and a drop of red cascaded down the silk beneath his eye. His eyes looked sad when he leaned in and kissed me and the music exploded in my head. Despite the pain, we danced, lips interlocked until I felt like I couldn't breathe. Until I felt like his love was suffocating me. I tried to pull away but he didn't let go. He pulled me in closer and the pain traveled from my hips to my chest, that razor blade cracking each one of my ribs along its way, letting the violent butterflies flutter out. I dug my fingers into his chest and pushed, but the pain was lodged into me like an anchor and I couldn't escape. Not until he decided so.
We danced and danced, the music now screaming in my skull. One foot crossed the other and I was dragged by his leading steps. The pain lasted for so long it began to feel good. I forced it to feel good. I took a deep breath against his mouth and finally felt at peace. My muscles relaxed and accepted the anchor into my chest.
And then he twisted it. He twisted it deeper and deeper until I felt it hit my spine. I cried into his kiss and felt him smile against my lips. Slowly, his fingertips loosened around the anchor, around the blade, and he stepped back. He let me go. I looked at him, water filling my eyes as he stood in front of me with red tears. His grin never vanished. I touched my palms to my chest then lifted them to the front of my face. They were dripping in red. I tried to wipe the red away on my dress, ashamed of the mess I had made, but it only grew worse. My hands only became more and more drenched. That is when everyone in the ballroom turned to face me. They all grinned and laughed, pointed fingers and threw their heads back in amusement. I spun in circles, watching them all in a flurry of chaos, wondering why they found me so funny. As I spun, the once white flower petals of my skirt threw up blobs of crimson across the floor. I stopped spinning. Slowly, I peeked, afraid of what I would find. When I looked down I saw that my white dress was now dripping in red and I would soon drown in the puddle. No matter how much I wiped away, I could never get rid of my mess.
