His Little Ballerina- B. Barnes

Chapter 6: Valeriya

Has no one told you she's not breathing?

~Hello, Evanescence

The soldier didn't come back for days. I only knew that a day had passed because every twenty-four hours, Tamara would come fetch me and run a few tests to make sure I was alright.

“You're holding up well to the serums…” she said, looking at a series of numbers on her sheet of paper as I sat on the cold metal table, waiting for my bathroom break.

“Only because you didn't finish…” I muttered.

Tamara froze. “Excuse me?”

I looked at her like she was stupid. “You don't have to keep up the act. I know you stopped after six and recorded the rest.”

“But I didn't stop. Madame B. was watching it all.” She replied.

“But...I thought…” I couldn't force the words out of my mouth. I didn't want the soldier to get hurt or worse.

“That was your mind, it's why you survived unlike most everyone else. All of our survivors except you have seen a light. You, however, saw a shadow.” She began.

“Maybe it means I'm going to hell…” I grumbled. I didn't want to mention that I had seen multiple. Their hande so piercing and haunting that I wished that I had never heard them. They were all decaying slowly, suffering through every ounce of pain. That kind of pain can't be expressed by a shadow.

“No. I can assure you that isn't the case.” She smiled, holding back a small laugh. “Madame B. is creating an elite squad a girls she finds capable of doing her nearly impossible tasks. Both you and Natalia Romanova were considered for it, but you were the only one chosen out of your age group.”

At least someone I knew was safe.

For now.

“So Natalia's okay?” I shouldn't have let the questions slip from my lips.

“Natalia...is needed elsewhere. I would tell you her fate, but Madame B. has not informed anyone of it yet.”

My hopes sunk.

Tamara finished writing a few notes, and dismissed me to use the restroom. Normally she would walk me there, but this time she let me free. I assumed from the many days I've been here that they finally trust me not to murder anyone while I'm out of my cell.

I shoved open the door and made my way to the bathrooms. No one was in the hall. The floors were pristine except for a few drops of...blood?

I took a double take and stared at the red splotches on the floor. They were heading in the direction of the restrooms. “Shit.” was all that escaped my lips. Not thinking twice, I followed the trail, and it did indeed go right to the bathrooms.

I quickly ran inside, seeing the crimson stains grow thicker and darker. It lead right into a stall.

I quickly swallowed what saliva hadn't dried up and walked closer to the stall that had the sickly red splattered across it. I pressed my hand against the metal door and felt the warm blood stick to my skin. I nearly vomited, but I had to hold it back.

My mind was torn between opening the stall and just leaving whatever was behind it alone.

It could just be an animal or maybe it wasn't blood at all. It could just be paint that someone tried to get rid of or whatever.

On the other hand, it could also be something far more grotesque and graphic.

I fought against myself and tried to tell my mind to not open the damn door.

My curiosity got the best of me. I pushed the door open, but what I saw on the other side would haunt my every thought. It sickened me to the point that I wanted to faint.

There was a body  leaned up against the stall wall. Blood oozed out from various gashes in the victim’s skin. The toilet looked like it had been painted with the blood in a hurry, and the pristine floors were caked in the mess. The body was slumped like it was a little rag doll, with it's back facing me. There was a large hole in the back of the nameless human who had been viciously murdered. The hole was the most disgusting of the wounds. It looked as if something sharp had impaled whoever it was through the heart.

A clicking of heels could be heard behind me. Madame B.

“Who is this?” I asked.

My teacher did not say a word. She stood there behind me, and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“It had to be done.” She said, trying to sound apologetic but failing. I knew that whoever she had murdered, she did because of me. She wanted me to feel the agony and pain of being the cause of someone's death.

I shoved her hand off my shoulder and crouched down next to the body, turning it around. The face that stared back at me with empty eyes was so familiar that I nearly choked on air.

Those empty eyes belong to Anya. Her blonde hair was matted, and dirty with grime and her own blood. A knife was in her cold, dead hand. She was still gripping it tight, holding on to the last thing of the living world she touched.

No words came out of my mouth. Only screams of pain and agony.

Anya was dead. She was dead because of me.

Madame B. knelt down next to me and whispered into my ear, “This is what happens when you anger me.” Her words were harsh and cruel, digging into me like the knife that Anya had been forced to used.  

Fury boiled beneath my skin. “SHE WAS JUST A KID!!!!” I yelled.

I expected for my teacher to make a remark about how Anya was in fact, seventeen, but it didn't come. Instead, four words escaped her lips that would haunt me until the end of my days.

“But it's your fault.”

She left me alone in the stall to cry. My legs were covered in the blood of the girl I thought of as a sister.

What could I have done to anger Madame B? Was it because of the shadow? Was it the soldier?

I pried the knife from her cold hands and cleaned the blade, sliding it into my boot for future use. I let my fingers trace the outline of her face, and closed her eyes so that it looked as if she went peacefully. The various stab wounds said otherwise, but it gave me some sort of comfort.

Madame B. had forced Anya to murder herself all because of me. I don't know how she did it, but it made me want to curl up into a ball and let myself be killed instead.

Maybe that's what was best for everyone. Maybe I should just end this now before anyone else dies on my behalf.