by Iris RIvers
“Oh, be quiet—”
“Stop!” Lara yelled. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to suddenly fulfill the parental role when, all my life, you’ve been avoiding it. You’ve always treated me like a worker of yours, not a child.” Her voice rose. “Did you feel guilty when you forgot to pick me up from school, from practice, all those times? When I was forced to walk home, usually in the rain, and came home crying, begging you not to forget to pick me up next time? When tears fell from my eyes as you cut open the skin of my back were you happy? Were you the mother you’d always wanted to be?”
Lara could no longer see her mother’s face. The room, everything before her, was obscured by the wetness of her tears, by the redness of her rage.
She’d been avoiding the horrible feelings her mother consistently caused; had taught herself to believe they were normal, to believe that she was the problem—that she deserved the pain. As blood leaked from Lara’s skin, she’d tell herself she only needed to be better, that, when she was finally good enough, Seo-Yun would lay her weapons down and whisper I’m proud of you.
But Lara was beginning to realize that she would never relinquish her arsenal.
Her mother hadn’t wanted a child made from her own flesh and bone. She wanted a legacy—a continuation of her own desires and dreams. Lara was only a pawn; a toy created to bend and destroy at will.
Seo-Yun’s eyes filled with rage. “Have you ever paused to think about how hard I have it?” her mother yelled. “My entire life has been spent helping you, paying for you, training you to become the ballerina you are today. I can’t catch a break! Your father refuses to help me, so I’ve been alone in all of this. And what do you do to repay me?” She paused, laughing. “Blame me? Cry to me? Give me a break!”
Was she hearing her words? Lara was cutting open her tainted heart, revealing the bloody veracity she had hidden her entire, miserable life, and Seo-Yun chose to victimize herself. She chose to blame Lara for her own abusiveness, her constant cruelty and callous teachings.
“Why don’t you want me?” Lara whispered, her voice shaking. “Why won’t you accept me?”
Seo-Yun said nothing. How could she, when she didn’t have an answer?
Lara couldn’t take it anymore. She needed to leave; she needed to run out of the building before she shoved Seo-Yun to the floor, screaming obscenities in her face.
“I don’t want to see you again,” Lara said quietly. “Don’t call me. Don’t text me. I won’t answer.”
“Lara—”
“Goodbye, Seo-Yun,” Lara said grimly, stepping back. “I hope you’re happy.”
She walked to the elevator, leaving her mother alone in the inhospitable kitchen.
The lady at the front desk said nothing to her as she neared the exit, and neither did the doorman.
Lara ran—ran away from the glassy building, away from her mother. The sky was gray, cloudy. Drops of cold water fell from the sky like the tears of a weeping angel. Lara stopped running, tilting her face to the clouds. Water drops ran down her face, mixing with the saltiness of her tears, cooling her skin.
I am alive, she tried to remind herself. I am alive; I exist.
But as the rain drenched her clothes, as she fell to the concrete, she couldn’t understand how she could be. Lara’s pain felt unworldly, impossibly agonizing.
She thought back to the nights she was forced to curl up in her parents’ closet, alone and hungry and void. She had gazed up to the singular bulb hanging from the ceiling and thought only of retaliation—of revenge. She’d wept as she touched the tender wounds lining her back, staring at the blood that coated her shaking fingers.
If this is what it is to be alive, Lara thought, then maybe I don’t want to be.
RENEE SAT ON HER BED, skimming a romance novel.
Beside her, Sienna looked out to the balcony, taking in the view of the city. “I still can’t believe your mom owns this hotel,” Sienna mused aloud, hands placed on the glass door. “Actually, I can believe it. Women can do anything. Aren’t we amazing?”
“Yes.” Renee laughed. “We are. But sometimes I can’t believe it either.”
“Do you like living here?” Sienna asked, moving to sit on the large bed. The mattress, soft and plush, shifted easily beneath her weight.
Renee shrugged, turning the page of her book. “I guess. I like it because my mom owns it, and I love my mom.”
“But?” Sienna pressed.
“It’s hard calling a hotel home,” she confessed. “I live with hundreds of strangers, see new people every day. It just gets weird.”
Sienna nodded, the gold highlighter on her brown cheeks glowing in the sunlight. “Understandable.”
“But hey,” Renee said, throwing her book across the bed, “at least I get free drinks.”
Sienna raised a brow. “What? How?”
“The bar,” Renee explained. “The bartenders give me free drinks because they’re all afraid of my mom, so, by association, they’re afraid of me too.”
Sienna laughed, lying down on the bed. “You are one to fear.”
Renee followed suit, their shoulders touching. “That I am. But so are you.”
“I’m not too sure about that,” Sienna said softly, staring up at the ceiling, the reflection of the crystal chandelier glistening in her soft eyes.
“You are,” Renee said, narrowing her eyes as she leaned on her right side. “We all are.”
Sienna said nothing.
“Hey.” Renee pushed her shoulder. “Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know,” Sienna admitted.
“Talk to me.”
“I can’t. I don’t know how I feel.”
“Just try.”
Sienna shut her eyes. “I just—I feel weak.”
“What?” Renee exclaimed. “Sienna, you are anything but weak.”
“Compare me to the other girls, and you’ll see that I am.”
“There’s nothing to compare,” Renee argued.
“But there is. I mean, just look at them. You, for one, are stubborn—and I mean that in a good way. You know what you want, and you aim to achieve it. Orion is headstrong and adamant. Irene knows what to say in every conversation; she’s the glue of our group. Evelyn’s ethereal; she’s kind and accepting. Ana is so blindly powerful that, when she’s in the room, it’s hard to see anything else. Sana is regal. Lilah is passionate. Violet is smarter than everyone I know. Mia is humble and warm. Lowri is... fair-minded. And Lara—”
Sienna exhaled a breath. “Lara is just Lara.” The room fell silent.
Renee brought her finger to Sienna’s cheek, touching her skin lightly as Sienna peeled open her eyes.
“Sienna,” Renee said softly. “You are all those things and more. You’re innovative and insightful. Eccentric and distinctive. I’m running out of words here, and I really don’t feel like pulling out a dictionary.” Sienna laughed, warming Renee’s heart.
“Do you realize that most of Lithe’s ideas have come from you?” Renee continued. “We listen to you because we believe in you. Lithe would be nothing without you. I would be nothing without you. So don’t ever think that you’re weak—because you’re one of the strongest women I know.”
Sienna reached for Renee’s hand, squeezing it lightly. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I needed that.”
Renee squeezed her hand back, resting her head on Sienna’s shoulder.
The sun set as they drifted off to sleep.
ANOTHER UBER DRIVER dropped Lara off at Juilliard’s auditorium, looking carefully at her soaking clothes. “Do you want a towel?” he asked as he pulled the car to the side of the road. “I might have one in my trunk.”
Lara opened the door, saying, “No,” then slammed it shut.
It had stopped raining, but that didn’t change the mascara that dripped from her lashes, the water that filled her Docs and soaked her socks.
Lara pushed open the door to the building, her feet leaving a trail of mud and
rain, and moved quickly to the double doors opening to the auditorium, ignoring the few people that remained as the city settled down for the night.
The room was cold. Lara shivered, twisting the water from her hair as the door closed behind her. She looked to the stage.
Kai. He was here.
Is he real? Lara wondered, watching Kai as he spun carefully on the smooth stage. Am I dreaming?
It felt like it, with her clammy hands and quivering lips. She felt oddly nostalgic as a strange mix of emotions danced in her gut. It was the same feeling that came along with swimming in a neighborhood pool at midnight; with visiting a 7-Eleven with a drunken friend at three in the morning or sitting in a car in an abandoned parking lot, listening to songs like “Promise” by Ben Howard and “Sweet Disposition” by The Temper Trap.
Lara suddenly felt alive, more alive than she’d ever been. Freezing and aching, she absorbed herself in Kai’s movements, feeling everything all at once. Happiness. Remembrance. Sadness. Melancholy. Empathy.
She was alive, and so was Kai.
They were alive, together, in this moment—this moment that was somehow separated from reality, pulled from the cosmos and existing outside of gravity.
Kai danced like he was alone; not alone in this room, but alone in the world—in the universe. He leaped like it was what allowed him to breathe. There was no music in the room, but there was in Lara’s mind—a mix of piano and violin and all of the most delicate instruments, all producing sounds of profound saudade, all making Lara miss something she had never had.
She tried to reach for it—the thing she was starving for, aching for—but it was covered in sticky blood, hidden from her grasp.
Kai stopped dancing. He turned his head slowly like he felt it—felt her. His fingers pulled into a trembling fist.
“Lara,” he said, his voice breathless and foggy.
“Yes,” she confirmed. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” He turned back around, facing the curtains as if he couldn’t bear to look at her.
Lara walked over to the stairs, stepping up to the stage on which he stood. The water in her boots moved with each step.
“Look at me,” she demanded.
“No,” he said loudly. His knuckles lightened against the grip of his fists.
“Don’t be a coward,” she forced out. The words felt sticky on her tongue.
Kai turned his head, slowly, deliberately, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he met her gaze. The steel of his eyes stared into the hardness of hers, the brown dulling to a color she had never seen shine from them.
I did this to him, she thought. He can’t look at me the same—not anymore; not after what I’ve done.
“Is this what you wanted?” Kai asked slowly, watching as drops of rain fell from her hair, from her skin.
“No,” Lara said. “I want to dance.”
Kai laughed. “Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll leave.”
“No,” she exhaled. “I want to dance with you.”
Shock quickly replaced the grim smile that had been on Kai’s face. He clenched his fists so gruesomely that small drops of blood leaked from his palms, falling to the floor and mixing with the rain that continued to slip from Lara’s body.
“No,” Kai said suddenly, turning to leave once more.
“Kai,” Lara breathed. “I need—” She went silent. The room stirred. “I need to practice. I missed a lot.”
“Will you run from me like last time?” he asked.
“What was last time?” Lara said carefully.
“When I broke into your apartment,” he spat. “When I found your note. When I realized who you are.”
Lara stared, the muscles in Kai’s back flexing as he said the words. Her eyes traced the outline of his neck, fingers itching to touch the skin, to clutch him there as he had clutched her once.
Why had she expected him to not bring that night up?
“No,” she whispered.
Kai unclenched his fists. “Fine,” he said. “But only for my own sake—so you don’t embarrass me at the recital.”
“I’m not capable of that,” Lara retorted. He ignored her.
“I don’t have music,” Kai said. “Are you capable enough to dance in silence?”
“Yes,” Lara gritted out.
“Let’s go over the final scene,” he said, ignoring her annoyance. “The death scene.”
The death scene. It was strange, hearing those words fall from his mouth. What were the chances that he—Kai—was going to die by Lara’s hand in both the recital and in real life?
He was stating his fate—and he didn’t even know it.
The irony of it all was amusing. Lara wanted to laugh, but she bit her lip shut.
“Well?” Kai said, waiting for Lara to find her spot.
Lara slipped off her jacket, revealing the sleeveless shirt she wore underneath. She was completely bare beneath the top. Kai’s eyes moved from her face to her collarbones and then, slowly, to her chest. His jaw clenched like he was in pain.
She then pulled her boots from her feet, stepping into place in her red socks.
“Well?” she tried to mock, but her voice was quiet.
“One,” Kai counted, turning to face the empty seats, “two, three.” He looked back at Lara. “Go.”
Lara twirled in place, shoulders flexing to match the beat in her mind. Kai twirled too, in perfect synch with her movement. As Lara moved, she imagined snow falling from the sky, melting upon her bare skin. She imagined the cold blanketing her sorrowful soul, trapping her with her thoughts—raw and gaping. She imagined the cold trapping Kai too. Though she wasn’t sure how it would trap someone who was already caged.
The dance began synchronized but then turned chaotic, contrasting. While Kai continued to move delicately, each of Lara’s motions was sharp, brutal; harsh against the suppleness of Kai’s toes. The music in her mind slowed as they stood only a foot away from one another, motionless except for their heavy breathing. Lara slipped her hand behind her back, reaching for the blade that wasn’t there. She stepped forward slowly as the music built again, reaching its crescendo, and held what would be a dagger to Kai’s beating heart.
I’m not rehearsing for the recital. I’m rehearsing for his murder.
His breathing sped as she mimicked pushing the metal into his skin, piercing his heart, and Kai fell to the floor, lying flat. Lara dropped down with him, hovering above his body. She imagined blood seeping from the fake wound she had inflicted, dripping down his chest like melting petals. She tried to imagine his face as he looked down to where her hand rested on his chest, feeling the pain of betrayal more than the pain of death.
Kai’s heartbeat sped up once more, a steady rhythm against Lara’s palm.
Do you know how hard my heart beats for you? he had once said.
She hadn’t, but as she looked to where their skin met, she understood.
“I feel something,” she whispered.
Kai shut his eyes, hiding his agony from Lara. She knew what he was thinking.
He pushed her quivering hand from his chest, opening his eyes. “Well,” he said while standing, leaving Lara on the dirty floor, “that’s too bad.”
Lara looked up at him as he turned his back on her. He was meant to die on this floor; he was meant to be left heartbroken and empty.
He was meant to shatter beneath her touch, but instead, she had shattered beneath his.
CHAPTER FIVE
“These violent delights have violent ends / And in their triumph die, like fire and powder / Which, as they kiss, consume.” ––Shakespeare
October 2017
Evelyn gripped a knife in her hand, the metal glinting underneath the fluorescent lights. She stood against the staircase of a campus building, her free hand—gloved and hidden—clutching the rail behind her. Her hair hidden behind a thick hood, her face masked and free from sight.
It was late, nearly 11 p.m., and the building wa
s empty save for the person she stood impatiently waiting for.
Lowri Byrne.
It had taken Evelyn no time at all to discover her school schedule. She was good at these sorts of things—probing into the lives of others like a stray cat. It didn’t help that Lowri was as open as a book, dropping clues like ink, leaving details of her life for the world to see. She was so innocent, so clueless, that it sickened Evelyn, coiled the insides of her stomach. Lowri was a fool—and the fact was as honest as it was brutal.
Evelyn wished Lowri wouldn’t be that way forever; she hoped that the mechanisms of Lithe would change her—toughen her—into believing that the world was not as trustworthy as it seemed.
Yet, knowing Lowri and the structured lifestyle she’d spent who knew how many years building, Evelyn knew it would take time—more than time—for Lowri to understand.
From the hallway, Evelyn caught sight of the red hair she’d become accustomed to. Under the dullness of the light, the redhead’s freckles seemed non-existent. Evelyn hid behind a wall near the stairs as Lowri turned a corner. She took one careful step forward, but, despite her fragility, the sound of her shoe meeting the floor echoed throughout the concrete building, causing Lowri to snap her head sideways, face painted in worry.
Evelyn didn’t move—didn’t breathe. The hilt of her knife threatened to slip from her sweaty palms.
After a moment too long, Lowri quickened her pace toward the stairs. She gripped the strap of her leather backpack as she took one step down, then two.
Soundlessly, Evelyn moved from the wall, following Lowri’s path. She closed the space between them, reaching for Lowri’s shoulder.
No weapons allowed, the note had said, but it didn’t say she couldn’t use them on another girl—on another member of Lithe.
Evelyn raised her knife and slashed it through Lowri’s skin.
December 2019
IT WASN’T A GOOD DAY for the recital.
The weather of last night had visibly worsened; rain poured into the cracks of the city and lightning sounded through the ashen clouds. The temperature had dropped into the thirties, carrying a chilling fog through the buildings, blowing against trees and leaves.