"Goodnight, Monsieur Piette, and thank you for a wonderful rehearsal", I call as I step out into the chilly September night air. It was perfect, my pas de deux with Maxim went smoothly, and that little brat, Giuseppina, fell flat on her face. Humph, she deserves it, thinking she could steal my role. I walk down the cobblestone road, humming the Nutcracker Suite, dancing the steps in my head. I am the sugar plumb fairy this year, something I have dreamed of since I was a little girl. Well, I thought to myself with a laugh, I guess I am still little! 5'1, with wavy blond hair and blue eyes, I have been called a pixie. Except I am a prima ballerina, with long legs, short torso, long neck, and thin arms, I have the perfect dancer's body. And I can eat whatever I want- thank God for my metabolism!
I do a small turn, forgetting I am carrying my dance bag outside at 9 at night. My bag goes flying, one of my pointe shoes landing in a bush. Crap, the bush is too tall. I run over, and reach for the shoe, just barely grabbing it by the ribbon; I pull it down, and pull the leaves off of it. I turn around, and bump into a tree. Crap again I think, and then something goes off in my head. Trees aren't supposed to be warm, and trees aren't made of leather. Crapcrapcrapcrap I think as I instantly turn away, running into the trees, but something stops me. Another warm tree. Then someone grabs my shoulders, and spins me around. I think I'm looking at the first "warm tree".
I look directly into the "tree", and see a black t-shirt covered by a black leather jacket. I look up. Dayum, he's really tall; I wish I wasn't so short. And I look into the sneering face of the creepiest looking guy I've ever seen, with a smashed in nose and a sneer on his face. "Well hello little girl", he says, "we've been waiting for you"
I nervously laugh, "waiting, what for? I really haven't got much on me so if you'd just let me go"… I turn quickly and bump into another man. I look up again, what's with theses tall people in this world, why can't they just stop growing in the 6th grade like me? He has red hair, and even though he's nothing to look at, he's much better than the deformed- nose guy. " Yes Flatnose, we have been waiting for her… Margherita…."
Okay, now I'm panicking more, how do they know my name? "Listen you guys, I don't think you want to mug me. I am just some insignificant person; I don't even make that much money. Now, if you want someone for their money, I know the perfect person, Giu…"
"Sweetheart, We don't care", a new voice says. It sounds like some villain straight out from a book, and like a mix of a deadly snake-cat.
"Oh, you don't", I say meekly, "Well, that's just… Okay. " Snake-Cat man comes towards me, he has pointed features, black hair, black eyes, and a malicious grin. Great. This was going to be fun. Then I got scared. He pulled out a huge ugly knife. I shuddered and stepped back, I didn't have a good history with knives. He laughed.
" Well, little ballerina, lets not stand here all night, you'll get a chill". With that, I realize that I actually had to get away from these freaking creepos. I do a fast turn, and stick my elbow out. The guy holding me yelps, releasing me. Well, I guess being bony does have its perks. I run off into the night, or at least I try to. My body was incredibly sore from six hours of rehearsal, and 2 hours of studio practice today, so it wasn't like I was going very fast. So, as I am trying to run away, someone grasps my ankle and I land flat on my stomach, and my chin smashes into the cobbles. A rough hand yanks my chin up, pulling the rest of my body up with it. I am looking directly into snake eyes. "Look, I don't want to carve your face up tonight," he says menacingly, "but if I have to I will". I whimper, I was seriously scared now, but still too hard headed to make sense of how much trouble I was in. that was, until he yanked me harder into him, and has his knife caressing my face, running all along my chin, to my checks and my forehead. Even though this guy isn't that tall, my toes are barely touching the ground. I start squirming, but to no avail- this guy is not letting me go. "Cockerell, bring me the cloth, he says", and the guy with the red hair hands him a cloth drenched in something. Snake-cat guy whispers in my ear" Goodnight, ballerina", and smothers my face with the cloth. I know I shouldn't breath the stuff in- it will knock me out cold probably, but the guy with the scrunched- up nose smacks the back of my head, forcing me to gasp. Too late, and I smell a horrid stench, and everything starts to go black.