Asasino (Re-write)

Chapter 1 ~ Old Theories

"One, two three. One, two, three. Going good girls." Mrs Abbey said. 

She was a small woman, with a deep coloured skin, milk brown eyes and crazy brown hair. She was pretty, with a round face, broad nose and full lips, but she always hid her beauty, with a bun in her hair, she looked much older than she really was, 45. She wasn't very thin, but that's because she eats one too many blueberry pies when she makes them. She's very nice, but also stern. She has a nice voice, pleasant to listen too, but almost scratchy when she talks.

She watches us dance. Personally, I haven't the body for all this precise dancing we do, as my body is long, a little more soft and curvy than the other girls. She closes her eyes and nods, as the music she is playing drags on. It's a beautiful song, jumpy, and fast paced. I believe it's called the William Tell Overture, though I'm not to sure.

When the song ends, by then she has opened her eyes, she nods in approval.

"Well done girls!" She says, clapping her small hands together. "Now, maybe we can try everything at once?"

We all get into position, the song before Christina Yates begins her opera solo. She has a beautiful voice. Deep and velvety, perfect for opera. Christina's my friend, but looks nothing like me. Sure, she may be a inch taller than the other girls, whereas I am at least a head taller than her, but her soft, almost pale yellow hair falls neatly down her shoulders in small waves, reaching to the top of her bust. Her eyes, had a rich brown ring encasing an emerald green inside, unlike any I had ever seen. I had once heard this colour mentioned as Ivy, so thats what I call it. She has a thin, lean, light body, and a smile that travels right through those amazing eyes.

Swan Lake starts playing, as we sit on the ground, on out legs, splayed out on out left side delicately. As the music starts, we watch our arms raise, and then fall, watching our finger tips slice the ground. Christina is not in this act, as she will need time to change, before her opera solo. 

The only reason I am in the act before my solo act, is because my outfit is as simple as it gets - A red and black corset with lace on the top of the bust, a thin, long sleeved black fabric shirt, a simple, short, tutu like red and black skirt with black legging and black ballet shoes. My shoulder length, frizzy bark brown hair will be tied back, braided from the very roots of my hair, then braided together before being swept and looped onto a tight bun. 

This process, as my hair shall be tied in a plait for the William Tell Overture piece, will take little more than the process of sweeping my hair into the tight bun, after changing. My olive skin shall be dusted with silver glitter, and my cheeks with gold. In my hair, on the top of my bun shall be placed a small butterfly comb, gold, with a jasmine teal and gold adorned butterfly, it's wings open in flight. My Ebony eyes shall be outlined with deep blue makeup, with a flicked up edge. I will look stunning.

Right now though, we have to finish our rehearsal. It shouldn't take us more than an hour, as tonight we are preforming, and we pretty much now the show of by heart. The rhythm of the show, we know, deep inside us, for we have to.

We had just finished Swan Lake, and Christina flounced on stage, in what was like a sparkly, deep ocean leotard, the legs and arms a see through blue, with a small cape on the bag. Movement was key, and our outfits had to be aerodynamic. Her golden hair was swept in a braid, beginning on her left temple, before being braided across, so the end sat atop her right shoulder. Her face, looked as though it was shining, 3 golden triangles painted in a line, the tops pointing towards her eye were following the natural curve of her right cheek.

The door at the end of the theatre flung open with a chesty cough. The doors were rounded, deep, almost red cherry wood with black, metal lines across the lower half in periods. The doors, as they opened, revealed Mrs Pecker, the owner of our 'circus', - although it acts much less like a circus than people showing of talents to willing watchers, - waiting with a man, in a neat black suit. I instantly recognised his face, the contours of it. I recognise those things, it's just a thing about me, I suppose. His neat, short black hair was still slicked back, his brown eyes still searching. He had a cigar in his pocket. Thats something, I suppose, he never grew out of.

This man was the face of etiquette.

He had a broad, flat nose, and a somewhat square face. Mrs Pecker walked up the isle, her shoes on the polish board the only sound in the room as she came. Mrs Abbey rushed forwards to meet her, and the exchanged a few words, and even though, none of us on stage dared move, they were too quiet for us to hear. Mrs Pecker kept turning to the man, then back as Mrs Abbey. Soon, they were done.

"Dismissed girls, go get changed." I could see Christina was not pleased at this, but she still came, and grabbed my arm to turn me away.

"Why is he here?" She whispered, holding my arm close to her.

"Not sure." I replied. "Maybe we should find Melanie and Brook." I looked at her as we walked. She nodded. We went back to our room.

The rooms, at our orphanage, which is what we were besides a circus, were set for 8 girls to a room. There were male rooms as well, on the opposite wing of the building, but the last boy we had here, Roger, had died after getting hit by a horse when playing on the street. I was 13 at the time, a few weeks ago, maybe a month. In my room, I had Christina Yates, of course, Melanie Abney, Emma Byrd, Twins Florence and Ethel Turps, Baylee Clark and Clara Roth.

Baylee is already there when we arrive back. She has light brown skin, a darker shad of tan, I'd guess you'd call it. She has these deep hazel eyes, which were currently closed, long, straight black hair, and a thin, short body. Emma sits next to her.

Baylee hasn't been well for a while. Not long ago, she was playing in the street, being 4 years younger than us, she had not been allowed out on her own. Everyone in our room was there, and so was Roger. I was still 13 at the time, my birthday only being a week ago. She was running about with Roger,  when she tripped and fell, tearing her chest near her abdomen and cutting it quite bad. She had curled in a ball, next to the street. We didn't even think to reassure the 10 year old standing in the middle of the street. Emma was the one to see him first. She ran to try and get him, but a horse and cart came thundering in front of her before she could do anything but extend her hand. Her expression, I will never forget. She had her hands clutched under her chin, her back rigid, and her face opened in surprise. The cart had stopped as he had hit Roger, and sadly, Roger had been hit bad. He was still alive. He wouldn't survive, Mrs Abbey had told us as she waved us all away to tend for the fallen boy. There was nothing they could do, but make his dying less painful. It took a few hours, a few agonising hours of not being able to do anything. Baylee had caught an infection, from her cut.

She tossed and turned now, her face getting hot, and sweating.

"How is she?" Christina asked. She always asked after others, something I forgot often. I also often envied her for that quality.

"She's running a fever. Mrs Abbey said to get her, if anything changed, or if she got worse. Should we...?" She left the question hanging, thick in the air in front of us.

Emma looked down at Baylee, her curly red hair fell in front of her eyes, like a curtain shielding her grey-blue eyes from us. She was pretty, a lean waist, but not thin like the rest of the girls, and she always wore blue. She particually favoured a blue and white stripped dress, with long sleeves, ending in silk ruffles. The bottom, was like a blue waterfall, where the bottom of the dress bunched out from the top. She wore part of her hair back, in a low ponytail tied with a thick blue hair tie, so it was a bit shorter than the rest of her hair.

She felt guilty, I could tell. I was about to reassure her, like I always did in this situation - When I remembered - When the door opened to Mrs Abbey.

"Mazà dear, Mrs Pecker would like you. I came to check on Baylee." She nodded at the girl. Emma stood up.

"Of course." She was probably the selfless of us all.

I walked to the door, and was about to exit, when Mrs Abbey stopped me by a hand on my shoulder.

"Her office lounge, right of her office." She nodded her head out the door. I smiled.

"Thank you Mrs Abbey." I nodded at her, and I left the office and may my way towards Mrs Pecker's office.

Thanks for reading guys! Woo, first chapter done, finally. Sorry for the wait guys, took me ages to write this aha