To Be a Broken Smile (sequel to Tumbling Down - DM Fanfic)

Stalemate (Ch.3)

Abby: Alright, girls, gather around.

We all huddle then sit around Abby.

Abby: You girls know how big and serious this topic is we are dealing with, right?

We all nod.

Abby: I've almost lost dancers to suicide. People commit the act everyday. Girls, please know, no matter what, it is not the answer. Understand?

We all nod again.

Abby: It's the permanent solution to a temporary problem.

Abby stands. There's stuff on the table next to her, but I can't make out what any of it is from my angle.

Abby: Chloe, you're battling anorexia. You don't like your body. You need to be skinner. Diet pills and measuring your waist constantly. Brooke, you just do it on impulse. You're happy but get sad over something minor, then just decide to end it.

Abby gives her an empty pill bottle and a 60-inch measuring tape. She hands Brooke a toy gun.

Brooke: Can't I get disqualified for a gun? Our group dance got cut a couple years ago.
Abby: Don't worry too much about it. The topic is heavy. They'll most likely overlook it. Nia, you're case is mental issues. Dealing with schizophrenia. You can't make the voices go away. You're gonna jump off the stage. Make crazy faces. Paige, you have cancer and have no hopes of surviving. You're mind is set to believe if you die now, you don't have to suffer later. You'll be wearing a hospital gown and a bald cap.

She hands Paige the bald cap and a calendar. Numbered days, I get it.

Abby: Mackenzie, you're depressed. You've been cutting your arms and legs for awhile, but get used to the pain. You die from cutting too much. You bleed out slowly, but are okay with it and don't cry out for help.

She hands me a grey plastic thing half the size of a credit card. Razor blade. Fake, of course, but it feels real, dangerous.

Abby: Kendall, you're being ignored and have no other way to get attention. Everyone else has their own problems and you can't get them to see yours. You die, and so does everyone else, but you're not around to see it. You choke yourself.

Abby hands her the rope. That is about as dangerous to fake suicide as you can get.

We all look at each other, the abundance of props. It's not gonna be much of a dance if that's all they see, but I don't bring it up.

Abby: All of you will be wandering along, alone, dealing with your own problems. Cutting, measuring, going crazy, and so on. As you walk by each other, your faces go slack, as if nothing is wrong. Got it?

We all nod for the billionth time.

We dance, marking in a lot of places at first. Abby wants us to be aware of where everyone is, and to see each other die. Well, fake die.

I'm the first one to start dying. I sit in the center of the floor, my arm held out. I take my grey plastic and fake slice, three times. I contort, falling closer to the ground, my fake-bleeding arm stretched out. Towards death, I suppose. I pause as Abby says to watch the remaining deaths.

Chloe is in the corner, pulling the measuring tape tightly around her. She acts upset and discouraged, taking the bottle, pretending to swallow pills, though she doesn't die yet.

Paige flips the calendar, then snaps her neck. She does, falling to the floor, but looks up to watch with me.

Nia fake jumps, then turns to see the rest.

Chloe starts stumbling, but still isn't dead.

Kendall is frustrated and fake yelling. She loops the rope around her neck.