‘Anything to win’.

She wheezed and grunted as she stuck herself with the strange syringe. She needed to win. She NEEDED to win. She wanted so badly to shine, to be someone. Behind the curtains. It was her solo. Her toes cracked and popped as her body seemed to stretch and become more limber. This was her moment.

Her eyes glowed strange green and the lights shimmered across her beautiful leotard and tutu. Then the music started and she went on stage.

She danced and spun and spun and spun and spun and spin and spun. It didn’t matter that the audience had horrified looks on their faces from her contorted and stretched body. Or that the orchestra had begun to stop playing to watch in terror at her frightening performance. She spun and spun and spun finally, her dance ended. In her ears, the screams of the audience sounded like an applause while her body crumpled and dismembered on the beautiful wooden stage. She’d won.