VII Deadly Sins

“It was Pride that changed angels into devils; it is humility that makes men as angels.”

●・○・●・○・●

Seven deadly sins.

Pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, sloth.

They say Pride is the sin from which all others arise.

I disagreed.

I didn't consider it a sin at all.

Perhaps that is why I am in this position. Being endlessly spun around like a puppet, on the dark stage, with one ominous light illuminating my every step.

I don't remember when I stopped feeling my legs and thinking what I was going to do next. I realized there was someone else pulling the strings, so I relaxed. I let them twist my hands, my torso, my head. I was sure if someone took a picture I would have looked like I was carved by Michelangelo himself.

But I was not myself. I felt like I did not belong. Like a stain on a blank canvas, you cannot get rid of. Except this time, I was the stain. I realized I was a mere puppet a few...months? - years? - ago.

Something else was ahead of me. 

Something else was in control of my life. 

I don't think you can call it life anymore.

I lost the privilege to call my existence “life” when I crashed that car.

I hit someone, I closed my eyes and then I woke up here.

In the arms of a stranger.

Strong arms of an angel, spinning me around, carrying me with such delicacy as if I was his lifelong work.

Sometimes, when we dance, I catch a glimpse of his face, pale as snow. A bit cracked on the sides, but nevertheless, still cold as ice. I formed a picture in my head, but there was a hidden temptation that made me want to look at him. Get lost in his eyes and observe every detail, as if he was a picture at a gallery.

Yet, there was something telling me I shouldn't do it. Perhaps a sense of self-preservation? An unwritten rule, ingrained in my heart? I didn't know. Deep inside, I didn't want to know.

I made a few steps forward and let myself fall, only to be caught by the pair of all-too-familiar arms. Another waltz, another broken heart somewhere in the world.

I winced in pain when my back bent a bit too far back. Oh, how I despise waltz.

I have made two good decisions in my life.

Convincing my mother to enroll me into dancing classes, and never forming eye contact with the fallen angel.

The second one probably saved me from ending up deeper in Hell. It prevented me from descending into madness, like a soul locked in the shell of a human body, unable to escape the torment, yet being deeply aware of the pain and its own impotence.

When the music ends, I can hear faint screams of terror and pain below me.

This twisted symphony was the only thing that kept me going. I might have been dead, but I still had the chance to redeem myself. I still had the chance to not end up like them.

I could feel it.

I just had to wait a bit more.

I expected the piano to sound the room with its slow tempo, but it didn't. Instead, a strong melody wrapped itself around my brain, seemingly controlling every inch of my body, forcing it to move into the all too familiar poses I learned the day Pride took control of me.

Swan Lake Act III Black Swan Pas de Deux V.Coda.

I didn't even notice my hair turning into a neat bun, with a tiara studded with black gems of different sizes carefully placed on top. A slim black tutu made of feathers replaced the red satin gown I wore for the waltz and simultaneously made me feel free.

With each step on the dance floor, I felt myself transform further into the black swan. I was her, and I poured my heart into each move, as I did the night I let Pride overtake me.

However, today was different.

This time, I was the one in control.

●・○・●・○・●

“You're not leaving, are you?” he gripped the side of the mahogany desk so hard his knuckles became white.

“I am. I will not tolerate this erratic behavior anymore. Can't you see you're ruining them?” she said softly and the girl moved her purse towards her more.

She had been waiting on the hard bench outside the office for hours now. She wondered whether the hardness of the bench was an intentional decision to prevent young ballet dancers from getting too much rest, or whether the older man in the office just didn't have the means to purchase new ones.

He was leaving yesterday in a black Rolls Royce - she saw that during her practice - so he must have been rich, which meant it was negligence that made her time at the academy a tad bit more uncomfortable. Heavens, I swear I will not tolerate a minute more sitting on this piece of God-forsaken furniture.

“Did he call for you?”

The girl winced, and like a young deer observing its surroundings, focused her gaze on the older ballerina.

They called her Violet.

They went to the same class, however, their total conversation amount could have fit a page. From what the girl could observe, Violet was a social butterfly. A social butterfly hungry for gossip. She was friends with almost everyone, but that did not prevent her from achieving high goals. She worked hard, yes, but Adrienne worked harder.

When she went out, Adrienne stayed. Stayed and practiced until her feet were bleeding. Until her body performed each move like a robot. As time passed, her dance became more refined. More...mechanical. And so did her behavior.

“Yes,” she paused. “I must say I'm quite puzzled as to why, but I hope it's nothing too bad.”

“Oh my,” Violet smiled, an annoying grin plastered across her tan face. Another yell was heard from the office and both girls directed their gazes to the opening door, through which a blonde lanky girl made her grand exit. “Well, he doesn't seem to be in a good mood. Best of luck, let's hope we'll see you at practice on Monday!”

With that, she stood up and left the poor girl sitting on the hard bench.

I do sense a bit of irony here. Perhaps she's secretly hoping I get kicked out. I wouldn't blame her. A person of her background must get agitated quite easily when they don't get what they want.

The girl was too consumed in her thoughts to notice that she had been called into the office.

It was only after someone tapped her shoulder, that she realized what was going on. When she stood up, her posture, usually straight and poised, crumbled. There was something that made her feel uneasy, distressed almost. 

While Violet might have been feeling tired of being second, Adrienne was growing bored of being first. She felt as if her skills were not put to use here, and so she prayed for a change last night. Well, that change might have been coming to her now.

She had walked into the office carefully, observing the surroundings around her. Some would say she looked like a timid sheep. Especially compared to the older ballerina standing in the corner next to a boring man, who was used to having things go his way, and usually hid behind a facade of confidence. Now he reminded Adrienne of a college student attending their first job interview.

The girl knew one thing about the woman.

She was the prima ballerina last year.

An absolute menace when she performed, they said. The director called her an embodiment of perfection when she played the white swan on the most prestigious stages of the world.

There was a difference between her, and the others. Over the course of her career, she built an impressive image. The other ballerinas cowered when they saw her. There was respect, but it wasn't mutual. If the others were sheep, she was the shepherd.

“Sit down,” the man ordered and Adrienne slowly sank into the bolstered armchair, which stood in the center of the luxuriously decorated room.

A sigh of relief escaped her lips when she realized she was free of the dreadful bench experience.

“You might wonder why I asked you here. I will keep it short. We have lost our black swan, as you might have noticed,” he nervously gulped and glanced at the door. “and you will be the new one,” he glanced at the ballerina, who observed the girl with keen interest.

Adrienne's mouth went agape, but she quickly concealed her shock with a smile. “When will I start?”

“Straight to the point, I like that,” said the ballerina, and her wry face turned to the director.

He sighed and shuffled through the papers until he took out a yellowish piece of paper, which he slid towards Adrienne. “The sooner the better. Once you sign this, you can start practicing next Monday.”

Adrienne glanced at the paper, which turned out to be a contract, and then examined the black pen. Finally. This is my chance. I will have the world at its knees.

With a swift move, she signed the contract and handed it to the man, who was clearly taken aback.”You don't want to give it a look? Perhaps you might find it too challenging.”

She giggled at that.

“I don't need to read it, to know I am qualified. I will be the best black swan you will ever see. I can promise you that,” she said with confidence and glanced back at the ex prima ballerina.

She might have been the shepherd, but I will be the wolf.

●・○・●・○・●

I could feel the red threads stitched to my body slowly disappear.

When the last thread lost contact with my skin I felt like I found myself again.

I was reminded of who I was before I became the black swan, and who I became after I had the world's favor. I was never better than the rest. I just made the sacrifice no one was willing to make. In pursuit of perfection, I sacrificed everything that made me, well me.

Another spin, another memory resurfaced and pierced my heart.

I regret.

I regret the choices I made.

The day I performed I thought there was no one better than me. I thought I was the best. Perhaps I was for a short time, but once one takes too much Pride in themselves, they lose the sense of who they really are.

I did not rehearse for the last performance. I overestimated my power, and with a simple crack, my career lit up in flames.

Then came the alcohol. Not even that could wash the Pride away. Not even death.

Two steps forward, three steps to the left. Then another spin.

I dedicated my life to dance. A mistake.

Now I was destined to dance even after my death. I had so much time to rethink my actions, and now, for the first time in so long, I am finally aware of the flaws. It only took a song to remember.

Was it destiny? Perhaps.

Then the music stopped and the last note rang in my head. It slowly became more intense, growing and tightening around my brain like vines.

I made the first steps I was in control of in what felt like millennia, and slowly started collapsing to the ground. The sound grew in loudness, and soon I could not think. I could not breathe.

I was trapped. 

Or maybe this was what freedom was like. A boiling pot of emotions and pain.

I heard steps slowly coming towards me, but I did not have the strength to raise my head. I knew who it was. I just couldn't look into his eyes.

“Please…” I whispered, my voice cracking.

I didn't know what I was begging for. Forgiveness? For the music to stop? For his help?

Tears dripped down my face, smearing my makeup, and I screamed in pain as the sound intensified and ripped through every cell in my body.

I remember him slowly kneeling down. I opened my eyes, only to see the blurry wooden floor which started to go black.

“Go to sleep,” he said for the first time in a calm, soothing voice.

These words were like my lullaby, but I could not bring myself to obey.

“I-I can't.”

“Just let go.”

I couldn't bear the sound anymore. My muscles were in a spasm. My body bending, testing its limit. It was only a matter of time when it would break.

I tried picking up the remnants of my mind, putting them together like puzzle pieces, to form one coherent thought.

Let. Me. Go.

Then it stopped.

My mind went blank, and I was finally free.

Free of my Pride. Free of my sin.

“What now?” I whispered as I was standing before the golden gates of Heaven; the embodiment of tranquility, which I so dearly missed.

What now?