Status: hehe
The Grandest Ballet
III
The room was lit dimly, and behind the officer was a large mirror. The officer was strong, his face stern. He pressed a small button on a tape recorder. I jiggled my hands, hearing the resounding noise of the chains.
“We are here to question you miss, on the account of last night’s grisly murders, you understand that right?” His voice was deep, his blue eyes judging.
“Yes.”
“State your name and age please for the record.”
“Sydney Polaris Farmer age eighteen.”
“Alright Sydney, now upon our arrival at the scene, you were screaming for help, for yourself or for the woman you had just killed?”
“I didn’t kill her.”
“Then who killed her?”
“Regina Palmer.”
“Right, why was the victims’ blood on your hands?”
“I…I held her when she fell.”
“Why were you in the insane asylum miss?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” He seemed irritated, his brow furrowed into his forehead.
“I don’t remember, I never remembered.”
The officer was about to ask another question, when another man came in, and looked idly at me before pulling my officer aside. I looked into the mirror. My dark hair pulled back. I cringed, and then smiled. Regina smiled too; she stood behind me, like an angel in her white tutu.
The officer sat back down.
“Why don’t you tell me your real name miss?”
“Sydney Polaris Farmer.”
“Seeing as Sydney Polaris Farmer doesn’t exist, I’m assuming you lied.” He stared, awaiting a response. When I didn’t deliver he kept going. “What’s your real name miss?”
I flung myself over the table, wrapping the chain from my cuffs around the officer’s neck. His hands went to it, trying his hardest to pull them off. He gasped for a while. But inevitably he gave up quickly. By the time reinforcements would come he was already dead.
Another officer came in, and I grabbed the gun from the dead officer’s belt. I shot. The other man fell. I took his gun too. With a gun in both hands I danced out. Shooting my way through the crowd of people. Men fell to each side crying out, and screaming. I could feel Regina behind me.
“Welcome back.” She said. “Welcome Home Regina.”
I fell, just outside the door. Everything came back to me. Jumping out the window. Coming back with only half of my brain. I thought I was someone else. I had invented another character for myself. When really I was still just Regina the ballerina. I was talking to myself in the mirror, there was no one behind me. I had killed the nurse, the lobby woman, and the cops Regina hadn’t done it for me.
I sighed. Touching my hand, realizing my attire. A torn leotard and a black tutu. I looked up. Cars raced past quickly. I stood. I got on my toes. I closed my eyes. I spun like I’d taught myself. I braced myself as the car hit me. The lights faded around me. A woman came up to me, her face unrecognizable.
“Are you okay? Can I help you? What’s your name dear?”
“I’m Regina, Regina Palmer.”
Then everything went dark. Regina Palmer died a ballerina.
“We are here to question you miss, on the account of last night’s grisly murders, you understand that right?” His voice was deep, his blue eyes judging.
“Yes.”
“State your name and age please for the record.”
“Sydney Polaris Farmer age eighteen.”
“Alright Sydney, now upon our arrival at the scene, you were screaming for help, for yourself or for the woman you had just killed?”
“I didn’t kill her.”
“Then who killed her?”
“Regina Palmer.”
“Right, why was the victims’ blood on your hands?”
“I…I held her when she fell.”
“Why were you in the insane asylum miss?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” He seemed irritated, his brow furrowed into his forehead.
“I don’t remember, I never remembered.”
The officer was about to ask another question, when another man came in, and looked idly at me before pulling my officer aside. I looked into the mirror. My dark hair pulled back. I cringed, and then smiled. Regina smiled too; she stood behind me, like an angel in her white tutu.
The officer sat back down.
“Why don’t you tell me your real name miss?”
“Sydney Polaris Farmer.”
“Seeing as Sydney Polaris Farmer doesn’t exist, I’m assuming you lied.” He stared, awaiting a response. When I didn’t deliver he kept going. “What’s your real name miss?”
I flung myself over the table, wrapping the chain from my cuffs around the officer’s neck. His hands went to it, trying his hardest to pull them off. He gasped for a while. But inevitably he gave up quickly. By the time reinforcements would come he was already dead.
Another officer came in, and I grabbed the gun from the dead officer’s belt. I shot. The other man fell. I took his gun too. With a gun in both hands I danced out. Shooting my way through the crowd of people. Men fell to each side crying out, and screaming. I could feel Regina behind me.
“Welcome back.” She said. “Welcome Home Regina.”
I fell, just outside the door. Everything came back to me. Jumping out the window. Coming back with only half of my brain. I thought I was someone else. I had invented another character for myself. When really I was still just Regina the ballerina. I was talking to myself in the mirror, there was no one behind me. I had killed the nurse, the lobby woman, and the cops Regina hadn’t done it for me.
I sighed. Touching my hand, realizing my attire. A torn leotard and a black tutu. I looked up. Cars raced past quickly. I stood. I got on my toes. I closed my eyes. I spun like I’d taught myself. I braced myself as the car hit me. The lights faded around me. A woman came up to me, her face unrecognizable.
“Are you okay? Can I help you? What’s your name dear?”
“I’m Regina, Regina Palmer.”
Then everything went dark. Regina Palmer died a ballerina.