The Black Swan | Reposted

Chapter 67 - Smoking Gun

Odette POV.

His hand was holding my hair as I gripped the garbage can, his other holding my hip. I was pretending he wasn't touching me, because I still hated him. I hated all of what he was right now, probably forever. But I needed support, because my world had somehow managed to break and crack all over again.

How was that humanly possible?

Where his hands touched me I felt pure warmth, and I hated that. I felt borderline comfort, which I also hated. I felt burning rage, heart break, and sadly joy, all from his touch.

I choked and gasped, I felt him rub up and down my back. Why was his touch still so comforting? Shouldn't it have just repulsed me by now? Shouldn't I have pushed him off and cringed? It's like my body didn't know what my mind did.

"Are you okay?" his voice was shaky, probably by the words I just dropped.

"Why are you here?" I sobbed, frustrated by this emotional hell.

I had come to the locker to be with my dad. I wanted to sit and listen to piano keys ping. I didn't expect to see what I did.

"I was going to break in and try to find the gun."

"It's not there," I wiped my mouth with the back of my sleeve. I was surprise he was actually telling the truth, I figured he would have lied about why he came here.

"What is in there Odette?" I was silent and he turned me around. His eyes were burning. 'Tell me what you found."

I took a breath and pushed him back. I didn't owe him a fucking thing. I didn't have to show him anything. I was so angry.

"Why? Why would I tell you a fucking word? Why wouldn't I call the police and have your ass busted for breaking and entering?"

He gnawed at his lip. "Please."

His eyes were pained and more empty than I had ever seen. The level of stress, the hurt he was in over his mother was so clear. And that's when I thought, this wasn't him, or me. It was his mother. It was about the woman that got taken from this world far too early, and who deserved justice.

I couldn't give a fuck about his happiness, or peace.

I walked into the storage locker that was large, full of her past. There were stacks and stacks of awards and mementos, paintings, and other random things. There was a single dress bag that was large and in perfect condition hanging in the back. I had zipped it up again in shock, and wanted to pretend that I could unsee it.

How many times could I break? How many times could the truth jump out to kick me in the ass? How many times could I handle a skeleton jumping out of the closet?

"What?" he pressed, his voice riddled with anxiety.

I could keep telling the lie that I couldn't give a fuck about him, but I knew it was just that, a lie. I fucking hated him, but somehow, some weird way, I loved him all at once. And it flooded me that this moment had been building since he was a little boy. I felt for him, which partly made me feel a little better than him, since he clearly never felt for me. I knew this was a massive moment.

I really felt like the sun and the stars in this moment. I felt so jealous of how big, and bright he was. How he shined brighter than me, even if it was in a negative way. He was mad, insane at times. He burned me, he especially burned me and scarred my eyes since I stared at him for far, far too long.

And I was a broken little star, so much smaller than the star he was. I was lost in this dark universe now, a universe he practically put me in.

I could hardly shine anymore.

I focused, pushing all my thoughts out of my mind. I pulled the zipper down slowly and there it was, her Black Swan costume. He seemed confused and I shook, lifting the feathery tutu, his lips parted.

"Blood." I whispered, seeing a substantial amount of smeared blood on the tutu hem.

His skin paled and his eyes looked incredibly pained.

"Whose else would it be? She's never had a major injury before in her life." I said softly. "We can link her to the crime scene, it shows that her alibi was shit, she'll crumble, she can't lie about this."

His eyes were shut tightly and he hung his head, his lips shaking. He broke down, crouching to his knees. He balled his fists and put them to his eyes, his hair which seemed so long fell a bit, tumbling down. He fell a bit into my legs, hiding his face as he cried. I gently put my fingers in his hair and sobbed too.

"I am so sorry," I gasped. "I didn't think she was capable. I didn't... I didn't know. I didn't even..." I broke and he pulled on me hard. I fell on my ass and he swept me in his arms, crying into my neck.

I couldn't imagine what it would be like to wonder about a question your entire life, a major question like who took away my only loved one. Harry carried that weight, and that weight brought him to this crazy path of my own destruction in revenge and obsession.

I was sobbing over the fact that the woman who raised me and who I adored took someone away from this earth who didn't deserve to be. It was the most unspeakable act. Fucking her way to the top, being a bitch, that was one thing, but to take a soul and end its body was so disgusting.

We stayed in that storage locker for I don't know how long. But I think his tears were relief, they were all the pain just expelling for getting justice. Because we both knew, that dress was it. It was tying her to the crime. I knew they still had Annes DNA on file, a whole case file on her, and they could easily match it and my mom could not lie her way out of it.

"What do we do?" I hiccupped.

"We just... put this somewhere safe." He wiped his eyes and zipped it up, his lips shook. "We have to go to the theater."

"I can't dance. You think I can dance now?" I cried out a bit.

"We have to.' He took a breath. He picked up his phone with shaking hands and he sent a text.

"I thought you said something bad would happen."

"I texted Zayn we caught her red handed." He grabbed the bag. "He should back off you."

"When are you calling the police?" I gazed down at my hands.

"After the show. After she sees... after she sees you dance one more time, a million times better than she ever fucking was." Tears ran down my cheeks. "What?"

"Justice for your mom... means mines officially gone is all." I gasped.

"I'm sorry."

My eyes fluttered to his. 'You're sorry?"

"You have no idea for how much Odette." He ran his thumb under my eyes. I winced at his touch which made him step back.

"Just fucking handle this.' I choked and stormed out.

I drove back, in a daze and picked up my duffle bag. I inhaled a ragged breath and started to the theater, knowing I had to be there early. I clearly had to make sure all my things were safe to use.

"Hello Odette!" Vincent cheered, his excitement blinding. "Whoa, are you all right honey?" he held my face, seeing my puffy pink eyes and red, flushed skin.

"Fine," I croaked. "I have to get ready."

"You do!"

I shook and hurried to the back. It was empty. It was silent. It was eerie. I heard the door slam and I jumped.

"Hey Odette," our company makeup artist smiled.

"Oh, hi Heather."

"I'll get everything ready for you. Show time!'

I gazed at my reflection, feeling sick.

"Show time.' I whispered.