Death of a swan
Standing on the platform of Haight Station, waiting for the 8 o'clock train, there was a swan.
--
The pendant, she'd found on the floor of the studio. It was tarnished, missing one pink crystal in its cluster of jeweled flowers, but it caught her eye and she's slipped it in her pocket, hidden it away instead of looking for the owner. Later, alone in her apartment, she'd taken it out, brushing the pad of her thumb over the crystals, taken with it in a way she couldn't explain.
Two weeks later, she clipped it to the strap of her dance bag, a found scrap of cheap costume jewelry that she thought of as a good luck charm. That day, she danced beautifully on stage, raw and alive and perfect, and she left the studio shaking with want, a coil wound tight in her belly. She'd gone dancing, alone, at a club she'd never been to before, and fucked a young law student in the dingy bathroom without a condom, come slicking down her thighs as she walked home.
The next morning, she forgot about the pendant, and the boy.
--
Standing on the platform of Haight Station, waiting for the 8'clock train, there was a girl. There were dark rings around her eyes, lids hanging heavily, and she swayed a bit as she pulled out her phone, frowning at the time blinking back at her.
The train was late.
--
As the holidays came and went, Nina withdrew herself from Lily's life, without knowing why. She went out more often on her own, picked up guys and a couple of girls. Stayed out late to keep from having to sleep. In the dark, alone, she saw things. Faces staring back at her. Whispering voices and jealous, groping hands and accusing glares. She came to the studio, she danced and sometimes she was even perfect, but more often than not, she was simply adequate. There was a show coming up, soon, and Nina wasn't certain her role was as locked as it had been the previous season.
She wasn't sure she cared.
There was someone following her. Someone standing just behind her, wherever she went. They were there on her train ride home. They were there in the studio. They were there in her apartment, watching.
The only time they seemed to leave her alone was when she went out to bars and clubs, when she was a different Nina than the one her mother had raised.
It made a sick kind of sense, didn't it?
--
Standing on the platform of Haight Station, waiting for the 8'clock train, there was a girl, who hadn't slept in three days.
Exhausted, nearly asleep on her feet, she rubbed the heel of her hand against her eyes, trying to will some focus into them. Finally, she could hear the train coming, the screech of it hurtling down the tracks, the flickering lights, and she took a relieved step closer to the gap.
--
That Sunday, she stayed in, too exhausted to drag herself out the door. She sobbed in the bathtub, unable to get warm, no matter how hot she drew the water or how high she set the thermostat in her apartment. She'd had the super in twice, but he'd told her both times there was nothing wrong with the system, and she was convinced he thought she was crazy.
She was fucking crazy.
Sitting on the closed toilet lid in her towel, she looked down at her hands, the ragged, bloody ruin of her fingernails, and wondered where all her progress had gone. The lights in the apartment flickered, dimmed, buzzing ominously, and she bolted to her feet, suddenly enraged.
"Fuck you!" she snarled, banging her way out into the hallway, "Just leave me the fuck alone!"
The apartment had calmed, then, and shaking with relief, she'd fallen into bed and curled up damp and naked in her sheets. That night she had the last peaceful sleep of her life.
--
Standing on the platform of Haight Station, waiting for the 8'clock train, there was a girl. Bundled in her coat and fidgeting with impatience, she felt a tap on her shoulder, a breathless voice calling to her. Excuse me, miss...
The girl turned, and there she came face to face with a twisted look of hatred, of death and jealousy so ice cold she gasped and recoiled at the force of it. She hadn't time to cry out, to move, to defend herself. Hands with inhuman strength curled around her arms and shoved her backward. She tottered, and for a moment she thought she might catch her balance, but with one last scramble at the air, Nina Sayers felt off the tracks and into the path of the oncoming 8 o'clock train.
There was a deep, rattling silence as the whole platform took a breath...
And then the screaming started.
--
The pendant, she'd found on the floor of the studio. It was tarnished, missing one pink crystal in its cluster of jeweled flowers, but it caught her eye and she's slipped it in her pocket, hidden it away instead of looking for the owner. Later, alone in her apartment, she'd taken it out, brushing the pad of her thumb over the crystals, taken with it in a way she couldn't explain.
Two weeks later, she clipped it to the strap of her dance bag, a found scrap of cheap costume jewelry that she thought of as a good luck charm. That day, she danced beautifully on stage, raw and alive and perfect, and she left the studio shaking with want, a coil wound tight in her belly. She'd gone dancing, alone, at a club she'd never been to before, and fucked a young law student in the dingy bathroom without a condom, come slicking down her thighs as she walked home.
The next morning, she forgot about the pendant, and the boy.
--
Standing on the platform of Haight Station, waiting for the 8'clock train, there was a girl. There were dark rings around her eyes, lids hanging heavily, and she swayed a bit as she pulled out her phone, frowning at the time blinking back at her.
The train was late.
--
As the holidays came and went, Nina withdrew herself from Lily's life, without knowing why. She went out more often on her own, picked up guys and a couple of girls. Stayed out late to keep from having to sleep. In the dark, alone, she saw things. Faces staring back at her. Whispering voices and jealous, groping hands and accusing glares. She came to the studio, she danced and sometimes she was even perfect, but more often than not, she was simply adequate. There was a show coming up, soon, and Nina wasn't certain her role was as locked as it had been the previous season.
She wasn't sure she cared.
There was someone following her. Someone standing just behind her, wherever she went. They were there on her train ride home. They were there in the studio. They were there in her apartment, watching.
The only time they seemed to leave her alone was when she went out to bars and clubs, when she was a different Nina than the one her mother had raised.
It made a sick kind of sense, didn't it?
--
Standing on the platform of Haight Station, waiting for the 8'clock train, there was a girl, who hadn't slept in three days.
Exhausted, nearly asleep on her feet, she rubbed the heel of her hand against her eyes, trying to will some focus into them. Finally, she could hear the train coming, the screech of it hurtling down the tracks, the flickering lights, and she took a relieved step closer to the gap.
--
That Sunday, she stayed in, too exhausted to drag herself out the door. She sobbed in the bathtub, unable to get warm, no matter how hot she drew the water or how high she set the thermostat in her apartment. She'd had the super in twice, but he'd told her both times there was nothing wrong with the system, and she was convinced he thought she was crazy.
She was fucking crazy.
Sitting on the closed toilet lid in her towel, she looked down at her hands, the ragged, bloody ruin of her fingernails, and wondered where all her progress had gone. The lights in the apartment flickered, dimmed, buzzing ominously, and she bolted to her feet, suddenly enraged.
"Fuck you!" she snarled, banging her way out into the hallway, "Just leave me the fuck alone!"
The apartment had calmed, then, and shaking with relief, she'd fallen into bed and curled up damp and naked in her sheets. That night she had the last peaceful sleep of her life.
--
Standing on the platform of Haight Station, waiting for the 8'clock train, there was a girl. Bundled in her coat and fidgeting with impatience, she felt a tap on her shoulder, a breathless voice calling to her. Excuse me, miss...
The girl turned, and there she came face to face with a twisted look of hatred, of death and jealousy so ice cold she gasped and recoiled at the force of it. She hadn't time to cry out, to move, to defend herself. Hands with inhuman strength curled around her arms and shoved her backward. She tottered, and for a moment she thought she might catch her balance, but with one last scramble at the air, Nina Sayers felt off the tracks and into the path of the oncoming 8 o'clock train.
There was a deep, rattling silence as the whole platform took a breath...
And then the screaming started.
