Chaptire Zéro: Le Cauchemar
The girl took center stage with a tremble to her step but it went unnoticed by the adoring crowd. They had already been hypnotized by the previous performances and so it's her job to finish the spell. But she was nervous, jittery under the stage light like a deer in headlights.
Nonetheless, when the chord was struck, she reanimated herself, becoming a swan. With her mobility, her agility, her grace; one would think that her limbs were made of magic. She moved as if she were an instrument playing the music. In fact, some might even argue that she was like if the notes itself came to life to perform. She was eye catching, electrifying, a true gem.
The audience watched her in awe, following her movements like a magnet. It was hard to remember that they were at junior performance. To say that she had stolen the show was an understatement. She was the show.
Not only was her stage presence suffocating but her looks were also arresting. Her skin was like porcelain, her brown lashes framed her lake like eyes and her delicate smile burned itself into one's mind. She was a doll crafted to perfection and pulled by the beams lights like a puppet on strings.
About half way through her performance, the ballerina knew that she had stolen the hearts of the audience, but she was still uneasy. As she repeated steps that she had practiced a many times, she searched for a particular pair of eyes. Sure, her parents were in the audience but they rarely gave her comfort and she sure as hell wasn't going to look for her teacher. Seeing her would only make the girl more unnerved. No, she had to look for her friend. A strange and completely unorthodox one but a friend nonetheless.
She found the friend standing behind the curtains with a smile that curved her soft brown eyes. And then just like that, it was just the two of them, the keen observer and the reluctant performer. Warmth spread through the friends chest and the ballerina felt like she could fly under her gaze. The brunette stuck her tongue out quickly, making her to giggle. The dark haired girl shot her a rude gesture and the dancer went back into her character, but this time wearing a genuine smile on her face.
But this was the calm before the storm. The friend knew how the show would end since she had seen, no, been stuck in this same performance a million times before.
A few heartbeats later, a gut wrenching crack echoed through the room and the princess fell. After catching herself, the ballerina slowly looked back and found that her foot was twisted and her bone ripped through her delicate skin. She screamed, feeling not just the pain of her injury but also the despair of her mistake.
Her friend would remain still, deafen to what she would consider to be a siren call. The other performers rushed on stage and she watched as they huddled around her, and eventually pinned her to the floor. Laughter erupted amongst them as they twisted the ballerina's foot more, enjoying the sound of her agony till it was mangled in with desperate pleas and wet sobs. In annoyance and gluttony, they would rip through her unitard and then into her flesh. It would take crimson pooling onto the floor and seeping into the wooden cracks for her friend to finally walk out.
As expected, the audience continued to watch on the edge of their seats, completely unaware that the brutality before them was reality and not fiction. She wasn't going to bring awareness though, after all, she couldn't ruin their entertainment. But she could cut it short.
