There's blood on my feet.
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Sexually Explicit: Description of sexual acts.
Sexual Assault: Features non-consensual sexual acts.
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Child Abuse: Features severe mistreatment of children.
Self-Harm: Description of self-harm.
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Item#: 9503
Level3
Containment Class:
safe
Secondary Class:
none
Disruption Class:
vlam
Risk Class:
danger
Assigned Site
Site-85
Site Director
Dr. Alina Patel
Research Head
Dr. Beatrix Lovecraft
Assigned MTF
Xi-222 ("Biellmann Spinners")
Assigned Site
Site-85
Site Director
Dr. Alina Patel
Research Head
Dr. Beatrix Lovecraft
Assigned MTF
Xi-222 ("Biellmann Spinners")
SCP-9503 as seen through
an antimemetic lens
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-9503 is to be kept within a 90x70x50cm standard Safe-class quadrilateral dome. All human testing of SCP-9503 should be monitored by Dr. Beatrix Lovecraft, and previously approved by the Site-85 Ethics Committee division.
Mobile Task Force Xi-222 ("Biellmann Spinners") is to prevent eventual evasion of SCP-9503 by GoI-012 personnel. Foundation webcrawler Bauer.aic and Xi-222 are currently collaborating to locate and expunge media depicting Incident 9503-α, and to disseminate adequate cover stories.
Description: SCP-9503 are a pair of figure skates, SCP-9503-A (left) and SCP-9503-B (right) respectively. Non-thaumatological observation studies suggest its fabrication to have occurred in the 1970s, with standard figure skate material (e.g. leather, tempered steel).
SCP-9503's blades feature performance-focused thaumaturgical manipulation, enhancing the user's execution of figure skating elements and techniques such as:
Steps of an Axel jump
- Axel rotations
- Overall jump takeoffs
- Spiral stability
- Step sequences
SCP-9503's boots contain a thaumaturgically-sourced memetic agent. It functions as a visual warping tool, altering human perception of SCP-9503. Instead of visualizing a 1970s pair of figure skates, a non-anomalous human being will instead visualize a recent model of figure skates when beholding SCP-9503. This does not apply to its wearer.
Addendum 9503-1: Discovery
SCP-9503 was first discovered by Foundation personnel during the Men's Figure Skating free program of the French Alps 2030 Winter Olympics. Foundation agents monitoring signs of anomalous activity within the arena detected memetic tampering on the skates of British figure skater Leo Baxter. The following events (henceforth designated Incident 9503-α) led to the rapid transport of SCP-9503 to a quarantine site before permanent location in Site-85.
Foundation Intelligence and External Affairs divisions later unraveled connections of SCP-9503 to PoI-012-12 and associated locations under the direct management of PoI-012-01.
Addendum 9503-2: Thaumatological Composition
November 12, I think. I spent all 8 hours of my flight trying to sleep. The mask only made sure I had my eyes closed, nothing more. A headache pounded in my temples like a hammer. Aunt Gertie told me to just endure it. A doping scandal would be the final nail in the coffin of my career.
Skate America. My third or fourth. This time, Manhattan. Now that I think about it, Skate America always happened somewhere near New York. I didn't mind, really. The frenzy numbed me, and I liked it.
As soon as I got to my hotel room, I checked every single corner for cameras or audio stuff. Nothing. I let out the most relaxing sigh of my life. I pulled my laptop from one of my bags and threw it on the bed. I couldn't wait to turn it on. After all, I had to turn it on at that exact time. I told her I would. I immediately opened the chatbox in a weird slurry of both excitement and absolute fear. My laptop was obviously connected to the network she had sent me the week before. No need for incognito.
LB: i'm here
IC: Good. Surveillance?
LB: nothing ma'am
IC: Great. 769 Rudyard St, Bronx, NY 10461. Tomorrow, at 10:45AM sharp.
LB: the bronx??? i'm in manhattan!!
IC: Take it or leave it, boy. Non-negotiable.
LB: fine i guess. anything for those tbh
IC: I'm bringing them in a black box with a common brand name. You know what to do, don't you?
LB: knock four times, say the words, bring a bag of the same brand, put it in the bag, go to the station. if anyone asks i tell them i went off to sharpen the blades
IC: Fantastic, boy. Don't be late.
LB: i won't
I did everything she told me to. It was freezing as hell when I got there. The windows were shut with multiple wooden plaques. There was obviously not a dangling metal thing with a logo or something above the door. I knocked four times on the charred wooden door.
An elegant female voice soared softly on the other side. "Password?"
"Dance you shall. Dance always."
The door creaked in almost a scream. I thought it had opened itself to me, but a flash of ginger hair behind it proved me wrong.
"Welcome, Mr. Baxter."
I stepped into what seemed to be an artisan's studio of some sort. You'd guess there would be a bunch of rats and the whole room rank of death. It was surprisingly clean.
The ginger lady closed the door at the speed of light. Not a metaphor.
"Foolish little kid." She erupted, letting a transatlantic accent slip. "Do you want the sun to melt my every hair?"
I thought she was exaggerating until I saw small patches of her left arm the color of burnt charcoal.
"Sorry, ma'am."
She disappeared into another room with the same unbelievable speed, appearing just a few seconds later. I nearly didn't have time to take a breather. Her arms carried the box, nails tapping on it.
"Come."
I followed her to a small crooked table in a corner of the studio, placed near a shelf with several pairs of shoes and boots. My eyes lingered on them until a color-changing pair almost made me vomit. The lady whistled at me. I turned my head on instinct to what was now in her hands. The black boots were glistening against what was left of the sun in the room. The blades were abnormally clean, the toepicks menacingly sharp. They were almost perfect.
"Are you trying to fool me?"
The lady smirked, taking off her low heels and putting the skates on. As soon as the blades touched the ground, the skates looked just like my own.
"How…" I was shocked, to say the least. "How d'you do it?"
She chuckled loudly. I swear I could see her canines grow. "A magician never reveals her secrets."
Her agile fingers undid the laces. I still couldn't believe what I had seen.
"What…happened to my eyes?"
"They saw what they were made to see." The lady muttered with some kind of satisfaction. "Mine, on the other hand, saw what they truly have to see."
"Which means..?
"These skates feature unique…technology which affects eyesight. Thankfully for you, these will only grant you an advantage."
My palms were sweaty. "Are you sure…these'll work?"
The lady threw herself back to the chair in a fit of laughter. This time, I was sure her canines were growing.
"Why did you come to me then, my dear? Don't be silly, Mr. Baxter. I have made these myself. I'm a professional."
She was right. After all this, I still felt like I should keep some of my dignity. Stupid.
"Alright, my boy." She spoke, carefully wrapping the skates and putting them back in the box. "What you owe."
I searched my pockets for the envelope. The Worlds prize from the year before was in there, nothing more, nothing less. She grasped it with her claws, opening it and proceeding to count the contents. An approving nod.
"Very well. Now, the bag."
My right hand trembled as I opened it. The woman placed the box in it with a solemn bang. My heart jumped.
"Remember what I told you before, boy." Her eyes pierced mine as she spoke. "Do not use them for long periods of time. If you do, your body won't take it, and you'll regret it. Using them only for a quick test and then for the Olympics is what I recommend you. Do not try to get your way around it. Understood?"
I swallowed nothing. "Yes, ma'am"
She lent me her hand, inviting me for a handshake. As soon as my right palm touched hers, I felt as if I were exchanging those skates for my entire soul.
"It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Baxter. May the odds be on your side."
Addendum 9503-2: Testing
The first series of human tests on SCP-9503 began on 03/19/2030, ceasing on 05/27/2030 due to limited essential resources.
TESTING REQUEST FORM
- STANDARD INFORMATION
Head Researcher (full name + position): Dr. Beatrix Marie de Sousa Lovecraft, PhD, Level 4 Researcher
Site (full designation): Thaumatology Research and Containment Site-85
Location: Manhattan, New York City, State of New York, United States of America
Item #: SCP-9503
(NOTE: Attachment of RAISA-provided item file is mandatory.)
- ITEM INFORMATION
Anomalous nature:
- Anahuman
- Antimemetic
- Antithaumic
- Audiohazardous (PENDING)
- Bozomorphic
- Bureaucratohazardous this form
- Cognitohazardous
- Ectoentropic
- Empyrean
- Hermeneutic
- Infohazardous
- Kinetohazardous X
- Memetic X
- Mimetic
- Narrativohazardous
- Ontokinetic
- Pattern Screamer
- Psionic
- Semiohazardous
- Thaumaturgical X
- Tychekinetic
3. TESTING INFORMATION
Material resources? If yes, please specify. Yes. Ice rink structure within the underground testing pavillion of Site-85.
Human resources? If yes, please specify. Yes. Two D-Class, male, ages 22-25.
Other specifics of relevance: D-Class should have had previous experience with figure skating.
4. ETHICS COMMITTEE APPROVAL (IF HUMAN TESTING IS REQUIRED)
(NOTE: DO NOT file this section if you are not a part of the Ethics Committee personnel.)
I, Tatyana Zenovia Scherbakova, Ethics Committee Division Chief of Site-85, approve the testing applied to above, as it poses manageable risks for human subjects.
(NOTE: Signature, biometrics, and stamp to be attached separately.)
After subsequent approval of human testing on SCP-9503, it was then scheduled by Dr. Lovecraft, and assisted by Dr. Daniel Rodríguez.
Foundation Designation
Sex
Race
Build
Figure Skating Years
D-99075
Male
Caucasian
Slender
5
D-88744
Male
African-American
Athletic
11
Sergei and Richard. The media called us three the "podium of an era." For 3 years the regular podium order was precisely that one: me with gold, Sergei with silver, Richard with bronze. People started giving up on cheering for their favorite skaters whenever a Grand Prix Series would come around. We were most likely getting the same spots month after month, city after city. I could see Sergei's and Richard's faces getting progressively duller as time went by. "God Save the King" played over and over and over like a broken record.
But my face only beamed. I hadn't missed a single gold medal since my debut in Seniors after a brilliant, once-in-a-lifetime Junior career. I rarely slipped on anything, my step sequences were bewitching, the song choices always bound to put some sort of spell on the crowd and the judges. Most importantly, my triple Axel became my signature jump. People just loved my delayed rotations. I could feel my heart bursting with pride and joy every time I landed one of those, yearning for the hysterical screams of all in the arenas.
I thought it'd last forever.
Four Continents, 2028. Egregious quad Lutz + quad Toe combo. Silver.
Worlds, 2028. Underrotated triple Axel. Silver.
Grand Prix de France, 2028. Went amazingly except for the free program's ending. Sprained my ankle during a sit spin, fell on my back. Bronze.
I was devastated.
I was falling behind. Not just behind them. Behind those I didn't even consider actual opponents. Every Kiss & Cry felt like a eulogy, harder and harder to bear as failure turned to habit.
I had to do something. I couldn't simply practice like usual again; it wouldn't work. Nothing could help me.
I had to do it.
TESTING VIDEO LOG
DATE: 05/27/2030
TIME: 9:05AM
[BEGIN LOG]
Dr. Lovecraft moves the camera towards herself before placing a laptop on her lap. Dr. Rodríguez approaches Dr. Lovecraft, sitting on the chair next to hers.
RODRÍGUEZ: So, smartypants. How's you and Hannibal Lecter?
LOVECRAFT: (whispering) Danny!
She gestures frenetically towards the camera. Dr. Rodríguez clears his throat.
RODRÍGUEZ: (to the camera) RAISA folks, this is an inside joke I have with Dr. Lovecraft.
LOVECRAFT: It is a personal matter.
RODRÍGUEZ: Yes.
Dr. Lovecraft adjustes her glasses before typing for a few seconds.
LOVECRAFT: Alright. This is the SCP-9503 testing log. We decided not to bring video recording material until we got deeper into research, and signs of anomalous tampering within SCP-9503 became more evident. D-99075 and D-88744 are currently warming up before their programs. They will perform each program thrice, once with non-anomalous skates, twice with SCP-9503.
RODRÍGUEZ: Also important to mention the music…
LOVECRAFT: Right. We will play the same song Leo Baxter skated to during the Olympics free program for one of the two programs with SCP-9503. We just want to rule out any possibility of an audiohazard the song might trigger on SCP-9503.
RODRÍGUEZ: Noting that the song is "La Muerte del Ángel" by Astor Piazzolla.
I tried them on for the first time during the last practice run for Skate America. I was incredibly nervous. I felt the murmurs of the press swarm around me like a maze of bees to my every movement. They hadn't let me breathe before, let alone now.
I took off the blade protectors and gave them to Aunt Gertie. She glared at me with her icy blue eyes, pressing her thin red lips against one another.
"Don't fuck it up." She whispered.
I nodded, as I always did.
The blades on my feet met the ice, letting me glide with a kind of smoothness I hadn't felt before. I let the made-up breeze hit my hair. My hands touched the wind I had just created. I felt like smiling, but I couldn't. The lady would kill me if I did.
I tried some jumps.
Lutz first - a bold choice, I know. The toepick launched me in the air as if I weighed nothing, letting me fly a quad when I meant to do a triple. I could hear faint claps from my opponents. I pretended not to hear. They were doing it for pity's sake. I hated it.
Then, a quadruple Salchow. The edges of my blades cut the ice like hot knives against butter, helping me build the cleanest rotations I'd ever delivered in a practice run. The applause soared higher this time.
A triple Axel. Even though the skates had mastered my every move at this point, I couldn't trust them just yet. I took a breath and tried some clean Waltz jumps before the real deal. I glided backwards, the air cutting through my back before I turned upfront, throwing my right bent knee with an unknown kind of strength bubbling in my chest.
The quick takeoff.
The delayed rotations.
The pristine landing.
It was magnificent. The people watching from the benches left their seats, clapping feverishly. I could see Aunt Gertie grinning with a nod.
I dared to smile.
LOVECRAFT: D-99075, are you ready to go?
D-99075: (from a distance) Yes, Doctor!
LOVECRAFT: Great.
Dr. Lovecraft flips the camera.
LOVECRAFT: Dr. Rodríguez, the music.
RODRÍGUEZ: (softly shaking his head) Right. On it.
Dr. Rodríguez grabs a remote, pressing the "play" button.
Free program. I obviously qualified. Even so, there was a 1-point deduction in my short, but I genuinely didn't see why. Aunt Gertie glared at me as soon as I received the score. I was embarrassed, to say the least.
I ranked 2nd, right behind Sergei. I endured all other programs with anxiety burning in my chest. My feet hurt like a motherfucker as I was warming up. I got too used to the new skates. I couldn't wear these anymore. I dashed to the dressing room during Martin's program, a muffled Tchaikovsky ringing in my ears as my head turned to every side, making sure I had no eyes or lenses on me. I opened my locker, yanked the cardboard lid off the black box, and swapped the skates. No one else would bat an eye.
LOVECRAFT: Program 1.1, non-anomalous. Three, two, one..!
D-99075 begins his program to a snippet of Tchaikovsky's "Symphony No. 5 in E minor, Op. 64." Among multiple step sequences, D-99075 manages to land a triple Lutz + triple Toe Loop combination with precision and stability. He pops a triple Axel towards the end of the first half of the program. It ends with a fly sit spin followed by a Biellmann spin.
LOVECRAFT: (loudly, to D-99075) Are you okay?
D-99075 gestures a thumbs-up towards Dr. Lovecraft.
LOVECRAFT: (typing on her laptop) No injuries. Good job. D-88744, it's your turn now!
I got out of that rink with raw, animalistic pride bursting in my chest. Sweat trailed down my nose as I greeted the audience, hearing their roars of utmost approval rip my eardrums to shreds. Dozens of black cat plushies rained on the ice, quickly swept up and stored in huge bags by the little girls. I looked at the camera that followed me with a satisfied grin, my hands over my chest, bowing to those watching me through it. Aunt Gertie and I didn't even speak to each other as I was putting the protectors on the trump cards I had glued to my feet. We just wanted to hear the scores.
LOVECRAFT: Program 1.2, non-anomalous. Three, two, one..!
D-88744 begins his program to a snippet of the Commendatore scene from Mozart's Don Giovanni.He lands a quadruple Salchow + triple Loop combination with some stability, though with an inconstant axis during rotations. He performs two step sequences without any complications, finishing the first half of the program with a double Axel + Euler + quadruple Salchow combination. The program ends with a camel spin + flying sit spin combination.
LOVECRAFT: Fantastic, D-88744! Everything alright?
D-88744: (from a distance) Not a single scratch!
LOVECRAFT: (typing on her laptop) Alright! All good so far…
245.61. World Record. A childish wave of pure bliss overtook my body, a scream so loud the press mics steered away from me for a second. Sergei and Richard congratulated me in the locker room, and I could see their sorry faces attempt to draw a smile. Martin threw me around the room in a hug, soaking me in supermarket champagne after everyone else had left.
I went back to the hotel in absolute silence. My gold medal clinked against my jacket zipper, my right hand resting on the black box.
LOVECRAFT: (to D-99075 and D-88744) Alright, folks. A quick break and then we're doing the real thing. Don't worry, don't panic. Medical is here to help you if you need.
[END LOG]
I withdrew from Four Continents. Everyone thought I'd done it for the sake of focusing on the Olympics. I thought so myself at some point. I found myself training day after day, nights after nights in my home rink. Going back to Leeds made me feel somewhat safe. Nobody had to look at me.
I spent four months there. Barely slept. Barely ate. Barely did anything else other than pretending to listen to Aunt Gertie and yanking the lid off the black box every morning. I left my old skates in my appartment, tightly put away in an rough cabinet I bought off a thrift shop. I haven't opened it since.
I often found myself putting my headphones on in the bathroom before showering. I'd strip completely, throw my clothes to a worn-off basket next to the body mirror I got myself on my 18th birthday. I'd move my body along the song I had chosen for my long program that season, wearing nothing but headphones and closed eyelids.
Two months before flying to the Alps, I did the exact same thing for the last time. One in the morning. No clothes. Burning hot steam clouding the air and fogging up the mirror. I danced regardless.
That time, I had the skates tied to one another over my right shoulder.
The song was over. I picked up a dirty shirt from the floor and wiped the mirror clean.
My nose was bleeding.
For efficient archiving and researching purposes, the SCP-9503 testing video log has been divided into two sections. Redundant information has been omitted.
TESTING VIDEO LOG
DATE: 05/27/2030
TIME: 11:30AM
[BEGIN LOG]
Dr. Beatrix Lovecraft resumes recording, quickly adjusting the camera. Dr. Daniel Rodríguez speaks to D-99075 and D-88744 as they remove the sillicone protecting pieces from their skates. Dr. Lovecraft removes her lab coat before exiting the frame.
RODRÍGUEZ: (faintly) …breathing, eyesight…
Dr. Lovecraft re-enters the frame a minute later, wearing figure skates. She enters the rink, followed by D-99075 and D-88744.
LOVECRAFT: (projecting her voice) Alright, boys. We will now start with the Baxter free programs. As I told you before, you don't need to mimic his personal style in order to make this (gestures quotation marks with her fingers) "work." At least, that's what Dr. Rodríguez and I have been theorizing.
D-88744: Thing is, Doc, we didn't get to practice this enough. Two months for a free? It's nothing.
D-99075: Yeah, maybe waiting a week or two would be better..?
Dr. Lovecraft places her hands on her hips, sighing loudly.
LOVECRAFT: Listen here. One. I did not put my skates on for no reason. Two. Ice melts during the summer. You're figure skaters, for crying out loud. You should know this. And three. I don't need to remind you of your position here, do I? Remember that it's either this or going back to Alaska with the cognitohazards spreading over your walls. Are we clear?
D-99075 and D-88744 nod.
LOVECRAFT: I know you two are scared. I'd be scared too if I was in your place. I'll let you have that.
Dr. Lovecraft takes a hairband out of the left front pocket of her tracksuit pants. She proceeds to tie her hair up in a short ponytail.
LOVECRAFT: We're going to do a rundown of the program with and without music. We can break it down to parts if you want, make sure your jumps are okay, all that jazz. We want you two to be at your best before performing this, or else we won't be able to tell whether you're messing up or the skates are disrupting your bodies. Understood?
D-99075 and D-88744 nod.
LOVECRAFT: Perfect. I'll start by performing the program myself, so that you have the choreo fresh in your minds.
"Représentant la Grande-Bretagne : le champion olympique, Leo Baxter."
"Representing Great Britain: the Olympic champion, Leo Baxter."
The arena was surprisingly packed for shorts. The lights blinded me a little after the bilingual introductions blared through the speakers. I tried my best to avoid staring at the cameras and focusing on getting warmed up. I adjusted my pitch black gloves several times after trying out some jumps. I wanted to make sure the concealer on my knuckles wouldn't wear off.
I felt someone's shoulder nudging on mine. Martin. Typical. We shared trembling smirks. His career wasn't going that well either. He told me he'd retire next year if he couldn't place at least 5th in the Olympics. He said that with the warmest of smiles, as if just saying it freed him from over a decade of trying and failing miserably. Well, at least not for him. He was genuinely happy to retire. He felt as if he gave his all. I felt guilty.
Dr. Lovecraft and D-99075 exit the rink. D-88744 places himself in its middle.
LOVECRAFT: 88744, we're starting in two. Take some breaths, release the tension in your muscles, treat this like a regular program, okay? Panicking will only slow things down.
D-88744 gestures a thumbs-up to Dr. Lovecraft. She quickly nods.
I dashed onto the ice with the usual speed, spreading my arms to the public as I looked upwards. The lights felt even brighter then. A wave of polite and enthusiastic applause faded away in just a second, leaving me to the uncomfortable silence of a pose without music, a statue to capture before it inevitably moves out of sight.
I put on a smile. That's life, that's what all the people say. What Martin says. A spread eagle, as funny as it may seem, burning my inner thighs with falling scabs pooling at the bottom of my pants. I've been a pawn, Sinatra screams, and a king. Never a king, I scream back in joyful silence.
Triple Axel.
There's blood on my feet.
LOVECRAFT: Free program, 3.1, featuring SCP-9503. Three, two, one..!
D-88744 begins Baxter's free program with slight hesitation. He pops a triple Flip during a triple Flip + quadruple Salchow combination, landing on the ice with his left thigh. D-88744 continues the program with a noticeable painful expression in his face. He manages to finish the first half of the program, collapsing on the floor after a flying sit spin.
RODRÍGUEZ: Fuck…
LOVECRAFT: Here we go.
The Medical Department personnel at the rink quickly dash towards D-88744. They speak intelligibly to Dr. Lovecraft at a distance.
LOVECRAFT: Broken ankles? Just that? Okay.
The free skate of my life was just five minutes away. I excused myself to the bathroom, rushing so Aunt Gertie wouldn't ask any questions that would fuck me over. I opened my locker, grabbing a black pencilcase I had snuck on my bag the night before. I carefully removed the upper part of my suit, seeing the fake red gems on it shine against the bleak lights of the dressing room. I took off my gloves, making sure the soaked bandaids around my nails didn't move.
I dipped the brush in the beige powder.
The scars towered over my chest, redder than the day before. My navel was of a sick grainy blue, but it was covered by the blackness of the suit. I hid the scabs and bloodied scratches on my collarbones with concealer.
Aunt Gertie was calling. I followed her voice.
Fifteen minutes after D-88744 is transported to the Medical Department quarters, D-99075 enters the rink. He appears visibly distressed.
LOVECRAFT: (projecting her voice) 99075, it's going to be fine. You've seen how quickly and effectively Medical can take care of you if anything-
D-99075: (screaming) You mean when! When it happens!
LOVECRAFT: D-99075, if you don't collaborate, we are moving you back to the Alaska facility.
D-99075 holds back tears as he positions himself according to the program.
LOVECRAFT: Free program, 3.2, featuring SCP-9503. Three, two, one..!
D-99075 manages to skate otherwise smoothly for the first thirty seconds of the program. He pops the quadruple Salchow in the triple Flip + quadruple Salchow combination, preventing a fall by landing on his left toepick. D-99075 groans.
LOVECRAFT: (loudly) Keep going!
D-99075 performs the first step sequence of the program with some difficulty. He ends one minute short of completing the program, falling on his back during a triple Axel. The remaining Medical Department personnel at the rink run towards D-99075.
Dr. Lovecraft enters the frame, rubbing her fingers against her eyelids. A Medical Department paramedic shouts intelligibly at her.
LOVECRAFT: What!?
Dr. Lovecraft walks towards the barrier separating the seats from the rink, grabbing its upper edge. She backs a few steps away, crossing her arms. She looks at the scene for three minutes in the same position.
[END LOG]
Addendum 9503-3: Incident-9503-α
"Représentant la Grande-Bretagne : le champion olympique, Leo Baxter."
"Representing Great Britain: the Olympic champion, Leo Baxter."
I greeted the crowd with a seductive smile, arms stretched like wings. I could taste the red lip tint I put on impulse, as if I wanted to ask the judges for a kiss. I got in position, smile fading into a confident grin. The bandaids hiding my non-existent nails got wetter as I arched my fingers in quick movements. My lower jaw attempted a battle grin. I glided backwards around the arena, feeling the warm leather of my skates brush against my torn ankles.
Triple Flip. Perfect.
Quadruple Salchow. Electrifying.
My feet drove me to a gorgeous camel spin, knees cracking in tune. I can handle this. Just two more minutes.
The step sequence was as great as ever, leaps and twirls leaving a red path as I moved forward, the violin screams spraying blood over the ice. Tears began to run down my face. My eyes desperately tried to find a way to conceal them.
It was near. I took a breath, ignoring how my ribs didn't let me exhale. Don't worry, don't panic.
Triple Axel. Never been better.
I was now crying like a child clinging to their knee on the playground. Make it stop, I said, I can't do this anymore. No one listened, no one saw, no one was meant to see. I yelped as the skates drove me to hell, ripping my suit with their bloodstained claws as they did the same to the ice.
Double Loop. My hips shattered into a million fragments of bone and marrow, clinging to my lower skin as if they wanted to tear my insides.
A spin. Please stop, make it stop, make it stop, I begged like a nobody. I felt a blinding pain overtake my throat. The skates let my hands cling onto it, a merciful gesture of an executioner. I desperately tried to stop the blood from running like a waterfall down my ruined suit. I dug my bruised fingers deep into myself, grasping my throat from the very inside. I reached for what I felt was my spine as my eyes rolled back into an infinite white.
With all the strength I had dared to avoid, I snapped it into pieces.
Then, nothing.
Then, freedom.
Then, the end.