Nina Sayers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
itwas_perfect) wrote2014-01-09 11:16 pm
itwas_perfect) wrote2014-01-09 11:16 pm
For Lily
She found herself, panting outside an apartment door, not knowing whose it was or how she'd gotten there.
There was blood on her hands, under her nails, and she dragged in a breath. A sob. Let it out in a stuttering whoosh, and took stock of herself. She was shivering, her gym bag slung over one shoulder, and she still wore her leotard. So, she'd been at the studio, which wasn't unexpected, but she'd left. She'd left in a hurry. She wasn't wearing a coat. She'd gone all this way in the cold with no coat. Had she ridden the subway?
She caught a fragment of memory, a whisper, a face obscured in the mirror, and suddenly, the last hours began to fall into place. She'd been alone in her dressing room, unlacing her dance shoes and pulling on her fleece boots, when she'd heard someone in the hall. It was late, and she'd been sure she was the last girl in the studio, but she swore she heard someone whispering. Someone crying.
"Hello?" she'd called, poking her head out into the empty, darkened hallway. She'd heard nothing in return but the echo of her own voice.
Frowning, she'd shut the door and seated herself in front of the dressing mirror, her own worried face looking back at her. Her face, anxious and flushed from practice, but hers and no one else's. But then... Then, it had gotten very cold. Very cold and... And she could hear music playing. The distant strains of "The Young Juliet" from Prokofiev's ballet. Breath caught in her throat, she'd begun to gather her things, forgetting that she hadn't finished gotting dressed, her breath hanging in brief clouds in front of her face.
It was so cold. So cold that the mirror began to freeze, little spider web threads of ice creeping along the edges. Fumbling, she'd dropped her makeup case, upending it onto the floor, and bending to pick it up, she'd heard a rattling breath above her. She sat abruptly, catching her forehead on the edge of the dressing table, light bursting briefly in front of her eyes. When her vision swam back into focus, there was someone... someone, a girl, looking at her in the mirror. Pale. So pale, like death, rage twisting her thin face, her eyes a deep, black nothing.
With a horrified sob, Nina tore open the door and clawed her way out of the room, running as hard as her thin legs would carry her, she hadn't stopped running, and now, she stood outside Lily's apartment, disheveled and trembling. As the memory of that haunted face in the mirror came back to her, she practically threw herself at the door, pounding on it and calling, frantically, "Lily, let me in!"
There was blood on her hands, under her nails, and she dragged in a breath. A sob. Let it out in a stuttering whoosh, and took stock of herself. She was shivering, her gym bag slung over one shoulder, and she still wore her leotard. So, she'd been at the studio, which wasn't unexpected, but she'd left. She'd left in a hurry. She wasn't wearing a coat. She'd gone all this way in the cold with no coat. Had she ridden the subway?
She caught a fragment of memory, a whisper, a face obscured in the mirror, and suddenly, the last hours began to fall into place. She'd been alone in her dressing room, unlacing her dance shoes and pulling on her fleece boots, when she'd heard someone in the hall. It was late, and she'd been sure she was the last girl in the studio, but she swore she heard someone whispering. Someone crying.
"Hello?" she'd called, poking her head out into the empty, darkened hallway. She'd heard nothing in return but the echo of her own voice.
Frowning, she'd shut the door and seated herself in front of the dressing mirror, her own worried face looking back at her. Her face, anxious and flushed from practice, but hers and no one else's. But then... Then, it had gotten very cold. Very cold and... And she could hear music playing. The distant strains of "The Young Juliet" from Prokofiev's ballet. Breath caught in her throat, she'd begun to gather her things, forgetting that she hadn't finished gotting dressed, her breath hanging in brief clouds in front of her face.
It was so cold. So cold that the mirror began to freeze, little spider web threads of ice creeping along the edges. Fumbling, she'd dropped her makeup case, upending it onto the floor, and bending to pick it up, she'd heard a rattling breath above her. She sat abruptly, catching her forehead on the edge of the dressing table, light bursting briefly in front of her eyes. When her vision swam back into focus, there was someone... someone, a girl, looking at her in the mirror. Pale. So pale, like death, rage twisting her thin face, her eyes a deep, black nothing.
With a horrified sob, Nina tore open the door and clawed her way out of the room, running as hard as her thin legs would carry her, she hadn't stopped running, and now, she stood outside Lily's apartment, disheveled and trembling. As the memory of that haunted face in the mirror came back to her, she practically threw herself at the door, pounding on it and calling, frantically, "Lily, let me in!"