13 - Hiding the proofs

I came into the hallway and closed the broken door behind me. Pieces of glass scattered on the carpet and wallpapers have been torn off. The sheet was laying on the floor and the cart...wasn't a cart anymore but a piece of metal slot in another piece of metal previously called a door. If the ballerinas came in the hallway right now, they would see the disastrous fight that happened right here.

Basses made the lamp and the painting frames jump. At least, I would have a little bit of time before being thrown in prison.

I already thought like a criminal, "Ah...I'm not one of these mobsters, of course."

I just had to clean the hallway before they came. That way, I wouldn't have to explain myself. I began with the door. No matter how much I looked, it was way too broken.

Then I looked at the floor, "I hope there is a sweep here."

While avoiding to walk on the glass, I opened the door to my right.

Inside, a mountain of unidentifiable objects full of dust rose to 13 ft. A broom and a shovel laid against a dirty mirror. I caught my reflection and saw myself, covered with a darkish red spot on my clothes and skin.

But, it wasn't because of the dust and the rust of the mirror if I was tainted with red. It was because I omitted this vile act I tried so hard to avoid. What made me different from these mobsters now?

No, I couldn't think like that. It was self-defense. A fully justified action. I took the broom and swept the floor of the hallway.

It was impossible to make it as clean as earlier, but I would have done my best at least.

Half an hour later, I hid the last bit of mess by covering it with its sheet.

I was the one bit of mess left. But showers? Were there any? It was night, so no one would see me if I washed outside. But bathing in the Seine with her body floating...

No way. I had to find a shower.

I opened the door next to me. This one could easily be displayed in a museum as one of Louis XIV's suite. The Old French King could totally live here: velvet walls, chairs, and a table made in an antique style gave this luxurious impression you were entering the royalty's realm.

A second room had a large shower and toilets.

"The Boss couldn't give me a better bathroom than this."

I looked over my sweater. These bloodstains couldn't be washed, meaning I couldn't put it back again. What would I wear then? I took a look around the pieces of furniture, and I settled on a marine sports bag.

I opened it and discovered T-shirts and shorts. Ok, that could do. I took one of a shirt in the meantime.

Armed with clean clothes, I showered with a strawberry flavor soap, covered myself with body lotions, and put the clothes on.

The door opened and closed with a bang. Someone swore.

Who was that?

"Keep calm, we've done our best." said a feminine voice.

"I know but...I would have loved us to compete with the Opéra... This person...They saw all our flaws. We should have a better coach."

"Isabelle will drink five whole bottles of Jack Daniel's if you keep talking like that."

"Samira, you know what?"

I drew myself toward the bathroom entrance. The girl wearing a niqab crossed her arms, waiting for the Black Swan to develop her ideas.

The Black Swan made her fingers travel on her mane, caressing her hair strands, as if they were a pet, "Rules are trash. It was fun to dance with you without giving a fuck about my en-dehors or my saut-de-chat."

Samira chuckled, "That's my Henriette !"

"But at the same time...I wasn't laughing when I was talking about a coach. Did you saw them dance? They were a walking poem!" The girl took herself into her arms and turned on herself.

She then chuckled. This sound was the most beautiful I have ever heard. And it disturbed me so much I lost balance and almost fell on the ground.

Samira looked toward the bathroom, "Is there someone here?"

"I'm not falling into the same joke again, Sam."

I closed the door.

"The door closed by himself! That's weird, isn't it?"

Quick! Behind the shower curtains!

The knob turned. There was no more time. I hid behind the sink, keeping myself invisible from their field of vision.

They came into the bathroom.

My heartbeat went faster. What id the could hear my heart? They'd throw me out!

Samira opened the shower curtains, to find absolutely no one.

I sighed.

"The hallway is already in an unforgivable state...I won't allow for this brat to get away with this."

"They destroyed the back door. It's logical to think the wind smacked some door isn't it?"

Samira nodded, "I guess you're right" She settled on the sink.

Her well-cut nails appeared in front of my right eye. I stopped my breath.

Samira turned her head, "It doesn't hurt to look."

"Sam! I intended to say it subtly, but I'm sweating like a pig, and I would like to wash."

Samira lifted her hand, "Oh, ok, I'm letting you wash. If I can't even help you with crepy door-closer..." Samira came out of the room, wishing her a nice relaxation time.

The door shut. Henriette turned around with a large smile on her face and took her Swan outfit off. She came in the shower and closed the curtains. Her tutu and underwear were laying on the floor.

She was taking a bath right here... My body temperature rose as the vapor spread the smell of the strawberry soap.

I had to get out of here before they called me a murderer and a perv.

I went to the exit on my fours. My feet messed with a bright red bra. Someone knocked on the room's door, and Henriette turned off the stream. I stared at the underwear sticking to my legs. Got no choice.