White Honey

The Sphinx Part II

"Three seconds." I point out, the timer almost over. The cellmate with the messy bun, Fat Jean had grabbed the container in which we had taken out those sticks and she rams it against the glass barrier helplessly. But it is pointless, we can't save the poor Asian she is almost out of breath, I would probably last longer with my lungs.

"Merde!" She cries thrusting the container aside and collapses exhausted from the earlier electric shock. I clench onto the chain around my neck, with this escape from here has proven impossible.

"She's losing her breath!" Sam—something, a rather robust lady with wild and bright eyes helps the fainted Mexican to her feet. Since names don't stick with me, I nickname her Maria. She's been out of it since the beginning, hardly worth my attention.

During this critical moment I find my mind galloping to and forth between the strange sensation in my stomach and the fact that there is a person about to drown before me. Even so I can't help but look at the timer. It is the only thing keeping me awake during this disquieting situation.

"Two seconds," I marked. By now it feels normal to remind them.

"The answer is 2(n+1)in the power of two!" the snake prisoner suddenly shouts. 

"One second." I said, is she correct? Did she say it on time?

The rather malicious piece of rock called a 'mini-sphinx', (one which I had never before heard or seen but do understand it's malign intentions) had tiny scowling eyes which flicker to a bright green. "Correct. You have completed all three questions—"

"Let her out!" Fat Jean yells. I freeze when I saw the immobile body afloat in the container. She hung aloft like a soul in the womb of the world, silky hair, plump face and her white clothes made her seem like an angel sent to the earth to bestow on us maternal warmth. A chill overtook my finger tips, is she breathing? 

"Opening barrier, please step back." Said the voice that had welcomed me, I call her Ms. Androvi Junior as she bears nothing but displeasing news. The water drained faster than it had filled leaving behind the lifeless body lying like a string-less puppet. The barrier slips down vanishing. 

"She isn't breathing," Fat Jean, who seemed to have regained some of her strength, pulled the body and laid her straight.

"CPR," the snake prisoner points out, "does anyone know the correct procedure?"

I learnt that when I was elementary, it was an athletic requirement. "I can do it." I said, there isn't a chance to try it out on a real body everyday and I don't care, if I can do it without it harming me then I should, this is my role.

I stepped on the stage, it is much lower than I had thought. I set Hase's head upright (if that is how you read her name) from the chin and then began massaging her chest. Pumping air into her lungs. One, two, three and air. One, two, three. And air. Odin. Dva. Tri. Vozdukh.

Odin. Dva. Tri. Numbers. They usually represent steps or in other cases time. Either way both are essential in a ballerina's life. If performed correctly an art will be created. But art isn't important to me, it's the freedom. With every leap, with every turn, with every step and ticking second I feel a bursting sensation of life. And I can finally breathe.

"Gasp!" Hane vomits out a mouthful of water on my face. She wheezes tightly gripping onto my sleeves, warmth returns to her flesh and color to her lips. A strange sensation submerges within my chest. I hold onto her, never before have I seen someone so small and frail. Fat Jean began joyously yammering which had been as annoying as her violent shakes of my body. Yet there was a familiarity in her voice I wonder where I heard it.