Swan's Fire

4. All Her Fault, Who is At Fault?

On my second visit to see Danielle, I brought her a slim glass case for the rose I'd given her. She remained silent, watching me as I used the water jug to keep the rose alive. After wiping my hands, I stepped back to admire the arrangement, inhaling its delicate fragrance. My hands moved with precision, adjusting the angle and repositioning the glass case. I repeated the process, making sure every detail was perfect, even moving a nail file beside the rose.

Satisfied with my efforts, I finally turned my attention to her. "I took your advice," she said, her voice hoarse. I waited for her to continue, wondering what had brought her to this point.

"They're sending me somewhere," she said, her words carrying a sense of resignation.

I couldn't hide my curiosity, so I asked, "Where?"

She shrugged, her gaze distant. "Somewhere much worse," she repeated, her voice carrying the weight of the unknown.

I stared at her, trying to decipher the thoughts behind her eyes. She returned my gaze with a penetrating look. "You're messed up," I blurted out, unable to contain my judgment.

"And you're not?" she shot back, her response cutting deep. I flinched, realizing that I had no moral high ground to stand on.

"I'm sick of this," she raged, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "You look at me like some sort of monster, out of control, but I am in control," she asserted. I nodded, wanting to escape the situation, but she wasn't finished.

"You're still doing it," she yelled, her anger intensifying. I furrowed my brow, unsure of what she meant.

"Then look away," I muttered, my patience wearing thin. She turned to me, her eyes locked onto mine.

"What?" she uttered, her voice demanding an explanation.

I spoke up, "You did this to yourself. I can't help the way I react to you," I said, my words carrying a sense of frustration. She seethed, her anger mounting.

"No, this is your fault. It'll all be—" she said, her words cutting off as a nurse barged inside, rudely kicking me out,

Taken aback, I fled from the room, my heart pounding in my chest. It was only when I reached the corridor that I realized I still held the nail file in my trembling hand, a chilling reminder of Danielle Marsh and her unpredictable nature.

Uneasy and distracted, I stumbled my way to the train station. I looked around vigilantly, feeling the need to be on high alert. My train had been delayed by 45 minutes, which wasn't uncommon in a city where underground trains had a way of moving both swiftly and unpredictably. As I stood waiting on the platform, a warm gush of air threw me off balance, and I bumped into somebody.

Strong hands grasped my elbows, hoisting me back onto my feet. I turned around, and my breath caught in my throat. She was there, smiling at me, her eyes full of curiosity. "Something on your mind?" she asked, her voice gentle and inviting.

I managed a smile, feeling a sense of relief. "Uh, no, other than I'm so sorry," I replied, glancing down at her coffee-stained shirt. She shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that surprised me. "Don't worry about it," she assured me. "How about a ride home?"

I gaped for a moment, uncertain of how to respond. "Oh, no, I don't want to be a burden, I mean..." I began to explain, but she interrupted me with another warm smile.

"I'd rather drive than stay in this dusty place," she said, her offer tempting me to accept. I nodded meekly, letting her take the lead as we made our way out of the bustling train station and into the world outside.

I winced as we drove past the hospital, my eyes drawn to the flashing red lights emanating from Danielle's room. I had been there when she had needed someone, but now, her presence lingered only in my memories. Her scent still clung to her car, and the warmth of the vehicle enveloped me, evoking a sense of unease. I couldn't shake the feeling of imposter syndrome. Why would she want to be in a car with me of all people?

Tchaikovsky's music played softly in the background, a melancholic backdrop to our journey through the city. The surroundings passed by in a blur, the city lights creating a tapestry of beauty and chaos.

"So, have you thought about my offer?" Minji's voice broke through the silence, drawing my attention. I nodded, my voice coming out in a hushed whisper. "I want to be the White Swan," I admitted.

A satisfied smile graced her lips. "That's my girl," she commended, a sense of accomplishment radiating from her. I blushed at the praise and settled into the remainder of the ride, the majority of it spent in silence. I kept my hands to myself, resting them in my lap, afraid to touch anything for fear of ruining the perfection that surrounded me. Her car was immaculate, and I couldn't find a single flaw to fix, though I considered cracking open a window as a means to dispel my overwhelming feelings.

As we arrived at my destination, Minji pulled up to the curb. I stepped out and walked around to her side of the car, a sense of gratitude and respect for my mentor swelling within me. She rolled down the window, a smug expression gracing her face.

"Thank you, Ms. Kim, for everything," I offered, my voice filled with sincerity. She smiled, her response equally genuine. "Of course," she replied.

She didn't leave until I had entered my house, and for that brief moment, I felt special and valued. The evening had been a memorable one, and I was so filled with happiness that I completely forgot to stretch that night, my thoughts consumed by the opportunity that lay before me.

"I should've stretched," I muttered under my breath, berating myself as I watched Elara perform my choreography. The frustration and anger that welled up within me threatened to boil over, and my thoughts took a dark turn.

Why... WHY!? I seethed internally. I feel like burning down the fucking world. I quickly reminded myself that such a thought was an exaggeration, but the frustration still gnawed at me.

I watched Elara execute the steps with calm and composed grace until she finished, and the applause from Ms. Kim filled the room. Elara stood gracefully and did a cute curtsy, basking in the approval of our mentor.

Then, Minji's voice called me forward. "Ah, there she is, Haerin," she said, smiling warmly, but her smile felt far from genuine.

Elara interjected, attempting to smooth over the situation. "We were just messing around," she claimed, but I didn't even spare her a glance. Instead, my eyes were fixed on Minji, hoping for some explanation or reassurance.

Minji's smile, however, was sympathetic, almost pathetic. I had made the effort to come here on a Sunday for additional practice, only to walk into the room and see Elara effortlessly performing the choreography I had created. It felt like a personal violation, and I couldn't hide my frustration.

"I'll come back later," I announced, not waiting for any response as I turned around and left the room. The silence that lingered behind me was deafening, a reflection of the turmoil that had churned inside me during those agonizing moments.

I rinsed my hands under the sink and dried them, my gaze focused on the running water. I looked up as Elara entered the room, immediately feeling the intensity in her presence.

"I hope you know it's nothing personal," she began, her voice carrying a hesitant tone. I sniffed and walked over to the hand dryer, turning it on to drown out her words. The noise effectively silenced her, and I could almost sense her waiting for my response.

When the dryer finished its loud cycle, she painfully continued, "I mean, I know you would end up being the Swan Queen. It was all in good fun," she said, trying to explain herself.

I nodded, not wanting to engage further. I wanted to escape the situation, to leave behind the awkward tension that had emerged between us. But Elara had other ideas.

She tilted her head, her eyes searching mine. "Or is it something else bothering you? Is it me?" she inquired, her voice tinged with genuine curiosity.

I shook my head, indicating that it wasn't about her, at least not directly. She took a step closer, and I instinctively shuffled back, creating a dance of avoidance between us. She scoffed, frustrated by my guarded demeanor.

"God, you really need to relax," she commented, and I continued to shake my head, my anxiety preventing me from responding. She scrutinized me, her eyes glazing over mine before spinning around and leaving the room.

"Enjoy your practice!" she called out as she shut the door behind her. I let out a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding. I turned to the mirror, seeing an unsettled girl staring back at me, and I couldn't help but place the blame for my unease squarely on Elara's shoulders.