Madame Giry and Roselle walked into the dressing room after finishing a discussion with Manager Beauvais. Both held frowns, but half of Roselle's frown was hidden behind her bangs.
Madame Giry seated Roselle on a chair by the vanity table. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
Roselle did not speak a word, but looked down; her face was emotionless.
"I know you wanted to become a great ballerina someday," continued her aunt. "It's unfortunate the manager won't let you perform. Perhaps there is another opera house you could practice in."
Roselle lifted her head, glaring at Madame Giry. Only one eye glared, for the other one was hiding, as if ashamed of its appearance. "No one wants me," she said under gritted teeth. "I'm too hideous. People cower from me. My dancing career is over." She took her eyes away from Madame Giry. "Over…"
Madame Giry did not respond to this. Instead she pulled away Roselle's silky bangs from her face, and tucked them behind the ears, revealing her deformity. "Is there anything you need Roselle?"
Roselle squinted. "My head still aches." She looked up at Madame Giry. "Perhaps some wine will ease the pain?"
Madame Giry sighed. "I guess, if it will help ease the pain." She exited the room, entering a few minutes later with a bottle of wine and a small glass set on a tray. She placed the tray on the vanity table and popped the cork from the bottle. "How much do you want?"
"Just leave it here, I will help myself."
Madame Giry held the bottle for a few moments, debating in her mind if she should leave the wine in Roselle's hands.
"Please, just set it down on the tray," said her niece impatiently.
"Well alright," Madame Giry responded, putting the bottle down. "But I don't want to come in her and find you drunk, you understand?"
Roselle answered by making a swatting motion with her hand.
Madame Giry picked up the signal and headed for the door, closing it behind her.
Roselle poured herself a glass, and before she knew it she had more than she could handle. The room around her seemed to spin, and she felt queasy. She looked around, a tiresome expression on her face. Her eyes stopped at the mirror.
There it was, that monster staring back at her. Roselle's eyes suddenly fumed with anger. She grabbed a candleholder, disposing the white candle, and trudged towards the mirror, her body swaying back and forth. Her reflection seemed to grin, mocking her. Roselle's face was diabolical as she made her way to the mirror.
The mirror now stood in front of her. She held the candleholder in batting position. "Be gone you wretched creature!" she cried desperately, vigorously swinging at the mirror, longing to rid her repulsive complexion. The room was filled with the sound of shattering glass. All that was left of the mirror was the antique frame and some shards of glass, eagerly clinging on to the edges. What lied beyond that was black, beckoning Roselle to venture in it.
Not knowing exactly what she was doing, Roselle went through the mirror, scraping her arm against a sharp piece of glass. Although blood dripped down her arm, Roselle did not take notice. She staggered through the passage way to the stairs. She leant herself against the cold stone wall as she went down, stumbling on some of the steps.
On the level ground she gazed ahead, not really looking at anything. She just kept going on, oblivious to the fact that there was water beyond her. When the water was only one step in front of her, she did not halt. She slipped into the murky water, banging her head against the rough shore, leaving her knocked out as well as leaving a gash on her forehead.
And there she floated, looking like a dead corpse, the current taking her away from the dark corridor.
Okay, finally the story's going somewhere. I'm not sure, but I heard somewhere that a long time ago people drank some wine when they were ailing. Think I got that from Wuthering Heights. But anyways, I hope this chapter sounds believable.
