The Ballerina

Chapter 1: Guilt

It has been a long time since Chin-Sun has seen her best friend, Mi Cha, so when she received a call from her "ballerina" at 2 o'clock in the morning, she could not turn her down.

"Did I wake you?" is the first thing Chin-Sun hears sitting up from the couch where she has been sleeping. It sounds so innocent and pure, she almost couldn't believe it.
"No, not all."
"It's been a long time..." sighs Mi Cha.
"It really has ballerina." an awkward silence lingers in the air.
It's broken by a sharp breath and da water running.
"Mi Cha? Are you ok?" she hopes she is sounding calmer than how she feels.
"Chin-Sun, do you want to come over?"
"Hm," she nods as if Mi Cha will be able to see through her phone, "should I bring the usual over? Like ol times?"
"For old times..." and with that, they hung up their phones and Chin-Sun stood up, slid on some boots and got her motorcycle helmet as she left, locking her apartment door behind her.

She almost couldn't believe how long it's been since the last time she saw Mi Cha. So much has changed since then, not only in her career but also personally. She thought of all the things that they will talk about while driving down a few backroads to a familiar part of town. She stopped at the convienice store they always frequented before Mi Cha had left for Russia.

She parks her bike and walks into the store, the clerk immediately recognizing her and smiling, "It's been a long time since I've seen you here Chin-Sun." For an Indian immigrant, his Korean was flawless.
She grabs two cocktail mixes from the shelf, grabs two 300ml rum bottles and places them on the counter.
" Some straws and Camel Blue cigarettes please." Its a nasty habit she has failed to quit.
" The usual I see, your friend back already?" He smiles.
She has always felt like they have a good relationship where just the bare minimum is exchanged and all parties are satisfied. It's healthy.

"Yes, she's back." She smiles, thanks him and leaves the store. Healthy.

When she arrives at her friends front door, her heart starts to pound. It was never like this before any job, so why only when I'm with her? she thinks, before knocking.
No answer. She knocks again, still nothing.
"Mi Cha, I'm coming in!" she calls out before putting in the security code to her apartment. She knew I was coming, why is she not answering the door? Luckily she never changed her code. I never underrstod why she wanted to stay here, of all places. This area has it's lowlifes and scumbags, but it's not so bad, just not a place a beautiful ballerina should live in...
Her thoughts trailed off and is replaced with worry as she hears music but does not see Mi Cha.
She calls her phone again, and hears it ring in the bathroom. The door slightly ajar and steam pouring out into the cold evening air. She walks, half closing her eyes, "Mi Cha, why aren't yo-" she is cut off by what she sees.

Mi Cha, in the bathtub, water a pinkish colour from her blood coming from deep slashes on her wrists. Cuts in vertical lines from her wrists to the middle of her forearm.  Chin-Sun drops down next to her swearing all the way down. She couldn't figure out when her face got wet, until she realized she was crying. There in front of her was Mi Cha, her skin not glowing as she remembers it did. Her hair, more dull than blonde. Her eyes, thankfully closed, but evidence of crying is seen. Her lips, her usually rosy pink softlips, all purple and dry.
Chin-Sun has seen plenty of corpses before, but clasping her stomach, she couldn't take seeing her best-friend like that anymore. She turns, and notices a box on Mi Cha's bed. It is adressed to her. It reads:

You are the only person I can trust to do this for me.
Revenge me Chin-Sun
cooking.mrparker-135

Love,  Your Ballerina

Chin-Sun couldn't remember much else. She doesn't remember calling the police, or what she told them. All she can see, all she can think, all that she can register is the anger she feels. The betrayal ,the hurt, the pain from what Mi Cha did. Why did she do it? How could be so selfish to leave her all alone in this shit-hole of a world. Why didn't she just come to her? Why is she feeling so guilty, as if she put the knife in her hand. She should've known. She should've stopped it. She should've come quicker...
These damn tears...