39 - Casse-Noisette
The show was going to begin. As we braced ourselves for dancing in front of the spectators, the journalists snapped us for minutes without end. Journalists. They were everywhere. On all the seats. On the floor. All of these people, just for a Prime Minister that stole and killed. The Prime Minister sat in the front seats, harassed with microphones and cameras touching him at all sides. Despite all that attention, he didn't look at them. He stared at me dead in the eye, not even blinking when lighting flashes blinded our eyes. He was saying something with those eyes. He didn't need to say something for me to understand it. 'I'm watching you,' he was conveying. 'Don't do anything risky.'. Screw him. I diverted my glance at people more pleasurable to watch, like Xiao, for example. He sat
- Writer
