Red Reaper // Twilight J.H.

00 // RED ROOM ACADEMY

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Within the territory of Russia resided a classified academy that very few knew of. Inside its walls were several young girls, most of which would never see the outside world again. Only a few of the girls would survive the darkness of Red Room Academy, and it would not be the weak ones.

The familiar sound of intricate piano music filled one of the studios in the vicinity. Complimenting the music was a group of youthful girls, practicing their ballet routines in an elegant manner. They moved almost perfectly in sync with the music and with each other. Their movements were graceful and serene.

From an outsider's perspective, it would seem they had not been dancing for almost four hours. However, that is not the case. The girls had been practicing for a total of three hours and fifty-two minutes with no pauses.

Crimson stained the girls' ballet shoes. After practicing day after day, hour after hour, injury after injury, blood had begun seeping into the ballet slippers years ago. A few of the girls had outgrown their ballet shoes, but that did not mean they got a new pair.

In the middle row of dancers was a girl named Nikita Volkov. Her rich brown hair was pulled into a sleek bun, matching the other girls' hair. She moved as fluidly as she could, despite the fatigue hanging over her like a dark cloud. The teenager was nearing the point of passing out if the dancing did not end soon.

Nikita felt a surge of energy as she spotted a certain woman in her peripheral vision. Madame B was not someone to joke about lightly, nor was she someone you wanted to disappoint. Although she was beautiful in terms of appearance, she had a horrendous personality. Her anger was not something you would want to be at the receiving end of.

Madame B was the woman responsible for teaching them. She disciplined the girls harshly, having no mercy nor tolerance for failure. Her blonde hair, with the occasional silver strand, was tugged into a beautiful hairdo, resembling a bun with a braid wrapped around it. She was dressed in a simple uniform, wearing items of clothing that allowed her to move easily. The shirt had the symbol of the Red Reaper program, which was a simple red scythe logo.

Nikita continued the ballet routine, moving in rhythm with both the piano and her peers. As time progressed, the aching in her feet began flourishing into a wincing pain. Like most of the others, her slippers had little splashes of dark scarlet.

The brunette pushed on. She selfishly hoped one of the other girls would make an error in the routine, which would put a pause on their practice. Should that happen, the girl who failed would be punished severely and returned after a couple days, if at all.

Nikita's wish came true. One of the girls, who she recalled was named Sasha, did a twirl that lasted a split second longer than it should have. To an outsider, it probably would have gone unnoticed. To Madame B and the other students, it did not.

Sasha obviously knew she had made a mistake. Her limbs began trembling in fear as she tried to resume the routine. It was too late; Madame B had seen it happen.

"Стоп!" Madame B abruptly barked in Russian.

The girls immediately halted the routine, following Madame B's order. They pivoted on their heels, turning to face the mistress. After doing so, their eyes stared straight ahead, faces emotionless. They were like expressionless dolls. Sasha, however, was having difficulty masking her fear.

Nikita remained calm as Madame B stepped towards them. She knew she had done well; Sasha was the one in the wrong. All the other girls were likely to pass today's practice with flying colors.

A long moment passed as Madame B halted in front of the line of teenagers. Her cold, calculating eyes wandered from the first girl in line to the last girl. Nikita kept her eyes forward, unable to see the woman's reaction as Madame B's eyes landed on her. Was the mistress proud? Disappointed? Neutral?

Seconds after Madame B finished examining every girl in the line, a resonating slap rang out.

Sasha made a pained noise in the back of her throat, and Nikita suspected it was primarily from how her knees collided with the studio floor rather than the strike on her cheek.

"Жалкий," Madame B spat at the copper-haired girl. The woman turned to face two other women by the doorway, and dipped her head in confirmation.

Sasha began spewing out pleas as the two women stalked towards her. Each woman grasped ahold of one of Sasha's arms, hauling her off the floor and dragging her away. The whole time, the other students remained stoic and facing forward. They had no choice; if they misbehaved, they would suffer the same fate.

Nikita felt a surge of relief once Sasha was gone. Not because she wanted the girl to be punished, but because she couldn't cope with hearing the girl's screams over and over again.

Madame B focused her attention on the remaining girls. A pair of icy blue eyes landed on Nikita, then flickered to someone else. Nikita felt her skin crawl, despite knowing the mistress was no longer observing her. Her anxiety began bubbling up, threatening her life in this situation. If she was ordered to dance solo, with her anxiety building up like this, she could die.

After a long moment, Madame B voiced that ballet practice was finished. Nikita barely restrained herself from heaving a heavy breath of relief.

Another girl was gone, but Nikita had survived.

//

TRANSLATIONS:

"Стоп!" - Stop

"Жалкий" - Pathetic

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