All language subtitles for Ballet.of.Blood.2016.HDRip.XviD.AC3-EVO-resync

Ballerinas rehearse.

One of them is more
than just a dancer.

She's a teacher, Delphine.

She scolds them.

And one.

And two.

And three.

Bleed for me, girls.

I don't understand.

If we're doing
fine, why do we have

to run it through three times?

So that the other
girls can see what

professionalism looks like.

Now, do it again.

In that case.

Saren, your
posture is terrible.

Straighten up.

Project.

Perfect.

I know you're the
teacher, Delphine,

but there are a lot of
little things that you miss.

That's why you're a
prima... to exercise

your perfection and grace.

Why are you even criticizing
us for every minor detail?

Don't be offended, girl.

These corrections will only
improve your performance.

You must not take offense.

I have a serious question.

Who's playing Hilarion?

From the looks of it,
no boys signed up.

Simple.

We draw straws, and one of you
will have to get the boy cut.

I'm a little worried
about tomorrow.

We've already
discussed this, Maren.

Well, I would just feel
better if they found her.

Well, they're bound
to any day now.

We're not going to abandon our
favorite thing in the world

because you're afraid the
lunatic will strike again.

Don't they say the criminal
always returns to the scene.

Only in real life,
not in movies.

Besides, it's not like
she even killed anyone.

She just injured Sylvie.

And now one of us gets a
chance to play Giselle.

You're right.

So
You're saying I'm retired?

Let's face it, Sylvie, you're
in the twilight of your career.

When I walked through
your door seven years ago,

you guaranteed me at least 10
years of pursuing my dream.

Yes, well, seven
years ago, I didn't

know that some little
17-year-old bitch

with daddy issues would
come and ruin everything.

You've got to do something.

I can't stand by and be
replaced by these novices

just because some
bitch on PCP shot me.

She almost killed me.

It was almost near my heart.

DMT, they're now saying.

What?

She smoked DMT apparently.

But until they find her and
grill her, it's anyone's guess.

OK.

Well, they need to torture
her if she won't talk.

It doesn't seem to be
working with poor Ria.

Poor?

Wait.
I'm sorry.

You don't think
that little skank

had something to do with it?

Hey, I'm not taking
sides, but it was her gun.

Her father's rather.

But they had no right to
put her in a hospital.

We've all done hunger strikes.

Look, I guarantee you that
whore knows where she's hiding.

The law is taking care of it.

Now, I hate to bring
up a sore subject,

but I need you to help my
godmother pick a new lead.

If she were to happen
to walk in there

and see someone like the
little runt taking over,

I would hate to see her rage
unfold on my security monitors.

OK.

Yesterday we got
three words out of you.

So today, let's try for four.

Ria, you must understand
that in the eye

of conspiracy
theorists, you're just

too good an asset in this case.

Would you like to go
back to the game room?

Yes.

Then answer one question.

Did you show Nisa
your father's weapons?

Hey, Ria, do you
want to do me a favor?

As long as it's not sticking
two fingers down your throat

again.

Exactly.

Nisa, it just
doesn't feel right.

They're tonsils.

What are they
supposed to feel like?

Can't you just gag
yourself for once?

OK, fine.

I see what kind
of friend you are.

Nisa!

Nisa, that's not the bathroom.

My god!

Nisa, put that down.

That's my dad's secret room.

You shouldn't even be in there.

It should be locked.

Is he preparing
for the apocalypse?

Yes, obviously.

Go put that back.

You're gonna get me in trouble.

Do you ever shoot any?

There's no such thing as a
ballerina with gun training.

Put it back.

Come on.

Maybe we should go visit her.

Ria?

Yeah, who else?

I'm not about to go to
some mental institution.

It's not like you'd
have to go play

kickball with all the crazies.

We would just be
showing her support.

Support?

I'm not even convinced
that she wasn't in on it.

Come on.

She was sweeter than me.

Which isn't saying much.

Hey, guys, I think
they just posted.

Really?

I really don't want to see it.

Come on.

As long as I don't
have to be Giselle.

What?

What are you talking about?

Every girl wants that role.

Seriously.

I mean, it does not get
much better than that.

Yeah, if you're
an attention whore.

Which, my god,
I guess you are.

My god, you're hilarious.

But really, it would mean a lot
to me knowing I was the best.

Well, you guys are just lucky,
because even though I'm just

as small, I have the biggest
boobs and the chubbiest cheeks,

which will probably
never leave me.

You do not.

My god, you're so pretty.

Stop, you're upsetting me.

Look, you'd be just as good
of a Giselle as her or me.

Yes.

You're right.

Let's go.

Ballerinas
scramble to the bulletin board.

Damn it.

It isn't me.

Then it must be me.

Don't be so full of yourself.

It is me.

Yeah, just because
they needed somebody.

I bet they hate us all.

Hey, don't burst
your bubble, Saren.

If it were me,
you'd be grateful.

I'm a throwaway
character, as always.

It says "to be decided."

Well, don't feel bad.

At least no one will write about
you in the community flyer.

Your shy kind couldn't
handle criticism.

I can handle the limelight.

You know, honestly,
we all thought

you'd play the dude because
you're least likely to mind

dressing like a boy.

Shut up.

You know, your
gayness doesn't show.

I am not a lesbian, OK?

I'm technically selectively
bi-curious and semi-bi-active

when I'm drunk.

Yeah, OK.

I want to share
a needle with you.

Why?

I thought you only
liked to use clean ones.

That's not as romantic.

Fine.

I'll share one with you
as long as I can go first.

Why?

What's that about?

Well, you're the
one who's asking.

You want it, you risk it.

Shit.

Are you afraid of
catching my disease?

You're crazy enough to shoot
up a happy farm of ballet girls.

What's to say you're
not a whore too?

That's how you're speaking
to your girlfriend now.

No.

That's how I speak
to a fugitive.

I can talk to you
any way I want to.

It doesn't matter
if you do fuck me.

Which I... I won't anymore.

Yes, you will.

I'm not harboring a fugitive
and getting nothing in return.

Don't leave me high and dry.

You know, why don't we
focus on the high part?

Then we'll see about
leaving you dry or not.

If you can tell
us everything we

need to know, I can help you
make your old life new again,

or your new life old again...
However you want to look at it.

I want to go back
to the ballet.

Hey, now!

That's eight words.

We are making progress.

She tried to kill me.

I thought she liked you.

Were you not best friends?

We were.

Up until my lingerie party.

Go on.

All the girls lounge

around in their lingerie.

So Samuel, what's
your essay about?

I suppose the
concise explanation would

be my self-discovered notion
that a painting is not

painted by an artist but
rather an artist paints

that which is a painting.

I don't really understand.

I was about to shoot this.

That whole thing?

That's a huge shot.

Split it with me.

OK.

Hey, what's going on there?

Can I get some?

No.

I can't believe you.

You know who that was?

Yeah.

Faggoty Don Elsoroy.

I hate him.

You hate any guy
who's clean cut.

Well, can I help
it if I only like

tall, skinny guys with tattoos?

In layman's terms, your
creation should be your bitch.

That's, really interesting.

So, do you want to make out?

No.

I find making out to be rather
mundane and counterproductive.

So, do you want to make out?

If you insist.

What is that?

It's nothing.

"Chapter four, Chloe
takes her ballet shoes off

and rubs her heels and toes.

Her face contorts to the
usual expression given when

pain or pleasure is felt.
For such an unusual girl,

the two feelings were
perhaps one and the same.

But how could she
complain after the killing

that she committed?"

What the hell is that?

It's homework.

You're not making eye contact.

You're a lying bitch.

Well, only my sister knows.

I made her swear
not to tell anyone.

Tell anyone what?

I'm sort of an
aspiring novelist.

I have three books already.

For YA.

YA?

Young adults.

I hope practice doesn't
run late again today.

I have things to do.

Yeah, like what?

Or people to do.

Either one.

You mean Conway?

Maybe.

My gosh, you definitely
are going to hang out with him.

Well...

I can see it on your face.

I don't see why Nisa keeps
getting so mad about that.

It's not like she
hasn't cheated on him.

Everybody knows she has.

Yeah.

So what's the big deal?

She needs to relax.

It's not like she has to
find out about it though.

Yeah, exactly.

Maybe we can just keep
it a little secret.

Deal.

Speaking of relax,
why is Delphine

always so wound up in a ball?

My god, she's such a cow.

I hate her.

I hate her.

She always makes me tie
up my boobs, and it hurts.

I don't want to do it anymore.

-Then don't.
-I won't.

Because I don't.

I mean, I don't do
anything I'm told though.

You're such a rebel.

I know.

I'm such a brat.

Whatever.

I'm about done with
this company anyway.

We both are.

Yeah, seriously.

We have so much more
to look forward to.

Yeah, screw this place.

Can you knock it off?

I have to write.

I can't believe it's
out that you're writing

a story based on what happened.

It's not such a big deal.

I mean, no one has
made a big deal

about the potential
controversy on or offline yet.

What about Sylvie?

What's she gonna say
when she finds out?

She's not gonna know
it's about her really.

You start off your
first chapter by a prima

ballerina getting attacked.

How is that subtle?

I altered things in the book.

Like, they're doing just act
two of "Giselle," not both acts

like we're doing.

And the killer
ballerina actually

kills people, not just wounds
them like in the real story.

You're gonna wish she had
been killed when she finds out.

An author like me
can write whatever.

True events are turned
into stories all the time.

You just have to change names
and certain circumstances.

You just gave me an idea.

What if one of the ballerina
who survives the attacks goes

on to publish a book about it?

I mean, then it would
be a book within a book.

Mind-boggling.

Well, you should try typing on
a laptop like a normal person.

The aesthetic of
the vintage typewriter

is way better than some
stupid laptop with a sticker

covering the logo.

It has come to my
attention that one of you

has had the audacity
to construct satire...

More specifically a manuscript
for a cheap paperback novel...

Detailing my life's hardships.

Hardships you all know,
and I don't appreciate it.

Now, I don't expect such
said person to come forward,

and I don't want them to.

Because I already
know who it is.

I do expect for them to
find it in their tiny hearts

that one ounce of decency that
their mother instilled in them

and destroy any and all pages
of this despicable story.

And that's all I have
to say about that.

Thank you, Sylvie,
for the announcements.

I have a few announcements
I'd like to add,

starting with the
least important.

Whoever has been posting lesbian
innuendos on the bulletin

upfront is not only
extremely immature,

but in-professionalism
will not be tolerated here.

Unprofessionalism?

You said in-professionalism.

Thank you, Gabriella.

When you reach the position I
have worked for my whole life,

you can make up
whatever word you like.

Yes, I too was a
prima ballerina once.

And now, for the
final memo to you all,

the student... ex-student
who's responsible

for the horrific events
that have occurred here

remains at large.

The only reason we had to fire
the handsome security guards

is because the
money your parents

give us isn't enough to
afford them any longer.

The amendment we created stands.

There will be no
mention of the incident

to ensure that the prestigious
honor and legacy of this school

never dies.

I may have to
leave the company.

Why?

Because my
dad got all freaked

out when the shooting happened.

What am I going
to do without you?

You'll figure it out.

No, I won't.

These girls are idiots.

I can't survive them by myself.

I know.

And I'm pissed because I
just got the lead role.

And now what?

Don't go.

Well, I'm actually
90% sure I got accepted

to a highly coveted academy.

You're kidding.

Way better than this one.

I'm so jealous.

You should just come.

You know what?

Maybe I will come with you.

We should just do it together.

Stop!

Well, Ria, much as I would like
to grant the freedom you wish

for, there's still an upset
at the school of ballet

you wish to return to.

Your instructors there feel you
must, in one way or another,

have been involved.

And until we can
prove otherwise,

you're going to have
to make yourself

feel more at home here.

Something tells me you're
closing your shell on me again.

You don't kill the messengers.

Perhaps that was a
poor choice of words.

So if you will just sign,
or rather initial here,

we can start seeing you get
out of this room at least.

Begin field program
A, and if you do well,

retire to field program B,
which is much less work.

We might even have you in this
beautiful state park on litter

duty, much better than being
cooped in here all day,

I can assure you.

Here.

Sign.

I kinda wish they had
those massage therapists

like they do at the pro level.

You know, that's
what they should

have had those security
boys doing instead

of just standing there all day.

Sucks to be someone.

You know, I think
Sophie is just using

it as an outlet for her anger.

I mean, let the dreamer dream.

It's not like she got a
tattoo on her chest of the bag

in a sling.

You know, I kinda want to read
the book when... if... she rebels

and decides to finish it.

Hey, Maren, we want
to read your book.

Did you turn us into characters?

I think I've had enough
emotional abuse for one day.

You're teasing me.

It's really lame.

Seriously, you guys, she's not
continuing it, unfortunately.

And it's sad, because it
probably would have been

a "New York Times" Bestseller.

We just want to know if
you wrote about us in it.

Well, at least
tell me how it ends.

I mean, does the slut get
locked away for her crimes?

And what about the back story?

What made her snap?

Lots of reasons.

Pain builds up inside her.

Buy the book when I'm done.

Bitch.

Delphine?

Yes.
Nisa.

Come in.

You wanted to see me.

I did.

I'm concerned about you.

What about?

Is it my arch or my allergies?

No.

Your dancing's fine.

It's your bust and your
waistline that isn't.

Aren't you glad I
told you in private?

I mean, I could have made a fat
list and put your name on it.

You'd be the only one.

Yes.

Thank you for not embarrassing
me in front of class,

but I'm only six pounds
heavier than last season.

Shame weighs about
six pounds, Nisa.

Yes, Delphine.

I'll correct this at once.

I don't think you can without
getting a breast reduction,

and those are expensive.

Will Daddy buy?

Will Daddy need to know?

You're not even
taping them down.

They're literally popping
right our of your leotard.

I'm just happy your ass
hasn't followed suit.

What are you getting at?

I'm just giving
you an inspection.

Do you mind?

No.

Just I don't want you to get
the wrong idea or impression.

I'm not going to let you go.

You're indeed a vital
asset to this company.

But don't let your ass
get as big as mine.

No.

It won't.

What are you saying?

It's shamefully big, isn't it?

Love me or leave the company.

Nisa.

Don't touch me.

Nisa, it's me.

What's wrong?

Just leave me alone.

Stop.

What is it this time?

Just... I'm disgustingly
fat and fucked up

and I fucking hate this place.

Did Brandon text
you that shit again?

It's that dyke Delphine.

What'd she do?

I hate her.

What'd she do?

-Come here, baby.
-I don't want to say.

-Just...
-Baby!

Hey, you are never going to
guess what my mom just told me.

What?

She just got a call from
Saren and Maren's crazy dad.

Bitch broke out.

Ria?

Yeah.

She broke out of
the institution?

Yep.

How?

I don't know.

But she also apparently
assaulted the warden.

Really?

Hardcore.

So I guess both the crazies
are on the loose now.

How does such a
pathetic little girl

break out of an institution.

She probably ran off
when they let her outside

to pee or something.

So she's got the darkness
of the night on her side now.

Where do you think she's headed?

I don't know.

She doesn't know where I
live, unless she's been

here for a party or something.

Besides, the neighborhood watch
force would apprehend anyone

they saw in a prison jumpsuit.

This is upper-class
suburbia at its finest.

What if she did
show up here, though?

I mean, would you let
her chill with us?

What?

We all used to be friends.

It's not like we know
she's guilty of anything.

Besides, being
friends with her...

No, it's way deeper than that.

We can't be affiliated
with convicts

if we expect to maintain
our hierarchy at this school

and be besties all through
our experience governing

the sorority next semester.

Hey, are you OK?

Yeah.

Here.
My god.

Here, have some water.

I must have... I must
have over-heated.

Geez, no wonder.

You're wearing long sleeves.

It... it was cold when
I set out this morning.

OK, do you live around here?

Yeah, right here.

Right near here.

OK, let me walk you home.

It's OK.

I'm too tired.

But thank you.

Thank you.

No, you need a... it's...
I live around here too.

We should be running buddies.

Sure.

Sure, yeah.

So, are you in school?

Yeah, I'm a senior.

OK.

I graduated last year.

Cool.

Cool.

Do you have any
plans for college?

I'm an aspiring dancer.

Cool.

Cool.

What kind of dance do you do?

Jazz?
Hip-hop?

Tap?

I'm so sorry.

Can you grab that?

Yeah.

No worries.

I'm a ballerina!

But the bottom
line is, I can't

give out any more scholarships.

The institution is
losing its funding.

In 2002, we brought in over
300,000 on tuitions alone.

I remember.

With all these other
schools popping up,

now there's a competition.

They've got lower
fees, and they're

even supplying their girls
with leotards, shoes.

I mean, is that something
that you're willing to do?

Not to mention your
prestigious ballet school

is teaching classes at
somebody's apartment.

I'll tell you
what I'm not going

to do... let some mental
case ruin my career.

She already ruined Sylvie's.

Is it bad timing to
host another fundraiser?

I mean, we made decent
money at the last pig roast.

This is part of the problem.

You wake up every day at noon,
and you're drinking by noon-30.

Maybe if you had half
the responsibility I do,

you'd suffer from a mild
case of alcoholism too.

I know you have a high profile
reputation to maintain and all,

but I think it's
really important

to give more than half
your girls scholarships,

considering the facts.

So we are in agreeance then.

It's only our paralyzed
prima we have to convince.

Or do we?

I've been thinking about
terminating her altogether.

She has no reason
to stay with us.

She's useless to us if she
can't be in the next production.

And Delphine's said
to me time and time

again she steps on her toes.

If you think you
can handle the added

hell of her backlash
misunderstandings,

then sure, go for it.

She probably still
thinks she's the lead.

She'll go on even
with the sling.

You know her.

What time's lunch?

11.

How long till then?

Like, two hours.

You know, I'm
really proud of you

for standing up for
yourself back there.

Really?

Girls, less talking,
more dancing.

And Maren, potty now so you
don't have to ask me later.

I have a bladder condition.

Not even baby ballerinas
wear diapers under their tutu.

She needs a broomstick.

Tell me about it.

There you go again, putting
all your weight on it.

The bar is supposed to be
treated like a partner,

remember?

Not completely rely on it.

I'm so tired.

I can't stand how long
and hard she works us.

This is only half
as bad as the pros.

You should start taking the
medication I switched to.

It makes it so I feel the
ache in all my muscles,

but it doesn't translate
to emotional agony.

Sounds poetic.

Let me get your doctor's number.

It's great, but it
doesn't stave off hunger

like the last pill I was taking.

I asked him if I could take
both, but he said, not likely.

Should I try it?

I guess.

Just stop before it
turns you into a zombie.

You danced really well today.

Thanks.

What makes you say that?

You never compliment me.

Yes I do.

Just take it.

You're getting better.

I'm afraid your skill level
is going to surpass mine.

Well, then you better
stop spending so much time

on your novelist fantasies
and start spending a little

more time at the gym with me.

As soon as I'm done with the
story, I'll give writing up.

Or at least until
this season's over.

When are you going to be done?

Do you have an ending yet?

I have a few I'm
mentally toying with.

I just have to give
up this cheap desire

to satisfy the reader with
some dumb happy ending.

What was that?

Maren!

Saren!

Ria, what the hell...

Please help me!

You're not allowed here.

And we're not allowed
to talk to you either.

Props on breaking out.

Yeah.

How'd that go?

I'll explain everything later.

The main thing is I'm innocent.

I had no idea what
Nisa was up to.

I know she expressed
anger towards Sylvie,

but I never took her
death threats seriously.

You have to believe me.

I'm on the run now.

Can you just hide
me and feed me.

We're good girls.

Remember, you're what people
refer to as a bad girl.

Can you just tell
me where she is?

Like we know.

No idea?

If she was smart, she would
have already left the country.

They probably will want to lock
her up for, like, five years,

let alone not being
able to dance a ballet,

with ours or any other company
from now until eternity.

Please, can't you just throw me
down a fruit bar or something?

I'm starving.

It's a starving art.

You know she's
still working on her book.

I don't care anymore.

I'm more concerned about
Nisa and Ria on the loose.

What if they try and hurt us?

Why would they?

Because they're both psycho.

Yeah, but we're not the
ones that should be worried.

Apparently there's
no more wine.

There's no more wine?

Yeah, Ainsley drank
it all, that bitch.

She drank it all?

I don't believe her.

Anyway, yeah, this is the
last, so I can get you a glass.

Maybe we just have
some mutual friends.

I'm sure we do.

Yeah.

What do you do?

I dance.

You do?

Like on...
Ballet.

Ballet?

-Yeah.
-Nice.

I was gonna say pole, but that
would have been rude, right?

Yeah.

You can give me a
glass, but I think you can

slow down yourself,
because you're wearing

someone's hamster on...

This is mine.

Now we might have
to hang out more.

Maybe so.

I don't know if it will
be over ballet, but...

Yeah.

So anyway, how are you?

What's going on?

You look hot.

I look hot?

You look hot.

You never look hot.

What's going on?

College?

High school.

What?

No.

Yeah.

So yeah, it's, like,
real cool of you

to be so good at pretending
to listen to my stupid shit.

Well, I like to actually
pretend that I'm your friend.

Fuck you.

Because you never
told me about him.

Why would I tell you anything?

Nice to meet you.
I'm Felix.

Hi.

Nice to meet you.

So what do you
do at this party?

I don't know.

Nice robe, though.

Yeah, I know.

I decided to wear
something a little

less stressful to take off.

I think that's
a very good plan.

So what are you doing tonight?

I don't know.

Why don't you tell me?

Do you want to head
back to the room and...

I thought you would never ask.

Conway, were you not
going to say hi to me?

Hi.

Why are you over here,
talking to no one, being weird?

I don't really
mind just chilling,

grooving to the songs.

I was about to go smoke.

Let's go to Ria's room
and have a quickie.

I don't think Nisa would
like that very much.

Are you serious?

You thought I was serious?

Nisa's my friend.

Right, right.

Well, I could use another drink.

Come on.

Let's do a line in the
room, is what I meant.

Everyone thinks I'm
a boyfriend stealer.

Why?

You get that rap from
actually stealing boyfriends?

Or just attempting to?

I'd say my batting
average is 50%.

Here.

You try.

You know... OK, I
don't know about this.

I don't really do this.

Well, what would be
a good idea, then?

I got it.

Take a line off of me.

You're crazy.

I can't.

Come on, Conway.

Stop being a prude and
take the line off me.

You're making things awkward.

What the fuck, Conway?

Baby!

I was just trying coke
for the first time.

Remember you told me I should
open up and try new things.

Yeah, academically.

Not with fucking whores!

Hey, stop name-calling, bitch.

There's nothing sexual
about doing a line of coke

on somebody else's body.

Exactly.

I could believe
this dumb slut could do

something like this, but you?

Really?

I spent three hours getting
ready for this stupid lingerie

party.

That's understandable.

And you look really hot,
so I think I'm liking that.

This is not a lingerie party.

It's a sex party.

Or at least that's what we
were about to turn it into.

Hadley, fuck you.

Get up, get up.

Stop!

Stop!

You guys are ruining my party!

My god, this is
classy, not trashy.

What are you guys doing?

Are you kidding me?

That was, like,
$650 worth of blow.

Nisa, you need to get out.

What?

It's that bitch that
started everything.

Nisa, I love you.

But you need to get out now.

Bye bye, baby.

You owe us money
for that, by the way.

Snort it off my ass, bitch.

Straighten your pelvis.

Straighten your core.

Gab, if I have to
tell you again,

you'll be out of this sequence.

Where's Ainsley?

She's up next.

Maren and Saren, where are they?

They're all in the bathroom,
bringing back lunch.

They're throwing up again?

Yeah.

We do it in groups now.

No one wants to be the
only bulimic in the room.

Girls, this is serious.

I'm trying to teach you the
divine heroics of the ballet.

I don't want to host
another dreadful

dancer-parent orientation.

Well, you don't
exactly help, constantly

always telling us how
un-proportionate we all are.

Because bones are beautiful.

Curves are not.

Hey.

Sweetie.

That's all I've got.

So you're not sharing now?

I'm going to sit here and
watch you enjoy yourself?

What happened to the
share I gave you last week?

I don't know, Don.

I gave it to charity.

I'm not having this
conversation right now.

Just shoot it if
you're gonna shoot it.

So you want me to shoot it so
I'll shut the fuck up, right?

That's it?

That's not what I said, Nisa.

Just let me do my thing.

Do you have any clean needles?

I don't supply that shit.

I'm not a gay and
lesbian center.

So then in my note, I said,
why are you writing notes to me?

We're seniors.

I mean, he could have at least,
like, slipped it in my locker

so that nobody knows
he still likes me.

My gosh, you're
so brilliant.

You should write a book
or something, you know?

Or better yet, a blog
about social etiquette

and high school hierarchy.

Today, tomorrow, and for
the rest of the social era.

You know, or
something like that.

Someone's at your door.

Yeah, I should
actually get that.

You expecting somebody?

Well, just whoever
it is, just send them...

Yeah.

You know, I'll tell
them to come back

when you're not so fucked up.

God.

My god.

What are you doing here?

We came for the dope.

Why else would we be here?

And by the way, why do you
want to hurt ballerinas?

It might have
something to do

with the mental, physical,
emotional abuse I've endured

for years in the company.

But let alone at your hands.

You used to be my friend.

I used to own you, bitch.

Yeah?

Well, not anymore.

You know, you can reapply.

Or better yet, go to Russia.

I hear that ballet's good there.

Yeah.

Just leave the country already.

You know what, I need to know
one thing from you bitches.

Where's Ria?

Because she owes me.

She's in juvy.

Well, actually, she broke out.

Have you checked
her dad's house?

I mean, if I was
tired and hungry,

that's where I would go.

Well, if you tell anybody
you just saw me here,

it's going to be the last thing
to leave your stupid mouth.

Don't come here again.

Get the fuck up.

What?

Get the fuck up.

What the fuck?

Am I missing something here?

These fucking cunts just
showed up at your door.

What the fuck do I know
about some fucking cunts?

For your dope.
For your dope.

You're holding out on me now.

I'm not... what the... I'm not
fucking holding out on you.

Yeah, you're a
lying piece of shit.

Look, they put fucking
money in my pocket.

You put my dick in your mouth.

A man's got to have
some priorities.

Fuck.

Fuck you.

Fuck you.

And five, six, seven, eight.

And balancing, balancing.

Turn, two, three, four.

Now fly, Demitri, fly!

Yes, fly with me.

That's it.

Fly, yes!

Soar over the atmosphere.

You know, being nude during
a massage is what separates

the men from the boys.

I know that your old
ballet school would have

a personal therapist over here.

We just have to
hybridize our positions.

You are tense.

You need to relax.

I know what you're
doing, Mr. Lustgarten.

You're trying to seduce me.

I'm not a full-on queer.

I'm sorry.

Although I have
experimented before.

So you have?

Well, listen to this.

You are not to breathe a
word of this to Delphine.

For if you do, I promise you, I
will snip off your tiny balls.

Do you hear me?

Here you are.

Now, you better tell me
something more than nonsense

this time.

Will I ever get
as much attention

as my sister does in school?

All right.

I guess I cheated.

I made this thingy go to yes.

It's called a planchet.

And you need to stop
thinking I'm better than you.

I'd rather have your pear bottom
and pearly whites any day.

I was just messing with you.

I knew you were watching.

You have to set
this on your lap.

We shouldn't have a problem
contacting the spirit world.

Our hearts are pure,
I'd like to think.

You just have to ask
serious questions.

Like what?

How you'll die?

U-Z-I.

U-Z-I?

It must stand for something.

Urinary zinc infection?

No such thing.

Whoever you are,
reveal yourself.

My god.

My god, Saren.

Hello, Maren and Saren.

I am Harmonia.

I'm the lady from the
music box that you gave

to Ria for her super-sweet 16.

I came from the same garage
sale as that Ouija board.

Do you remember?

I just didn't want to
spell it all out on there.

I mean, I've got things to do.

But Saren, what I was
trying to tell you

is that you will
die from an Uzi.

It's an Israeli submachine gun.

In fact, it's the same
model that Nisa attacked

your ballet school with.

So you mean she'll
strike again?

Of course.

But Maren knows
that, doesn't she?

I was going to have
you die by the sword.

Yes, but you're going
to change your mind

when you sit down to write it.

Maren, you have such a gift.

Really?

I thought it was just
a magical typewriter.

So you're saying that she can
determine destiny by whatever

she types on that thing?

Precisely.

And you'd think she would use
it to do good in the world,

to feed the hungry,
to house the homeless,

or to put pants on
pantless people.

But she is evil.

She is more evil than Nisa.

In fact, she is the most
horrible, despicable girl

who ever walked the
face of this Earth.

Shame on you, Maren.

Shame.

No!

Shame on you!

Shame!

No!

Shame on you.

No!

When will the rain stop?

When will the sun shine again
so we can play foosball?

I don't know, Dad.

But foosball was
an indoor sport.

And we can always
play it after dinner.

It's set up in the garage.

No, I want to
play badminton now.

We can't play badminton now.

The rain's finally stopped,
but it's a bit muddy out there,

and we just can't play.

Ria.

Hi.

No, no, no.

Stop, stop.

It's me.

It's your little girl.

You're not the little sweet
precious Ria that we raised.

Your mother would
be so disappointed.

She would be sick
to her stomach.

An officer just left not
more than 20 minutes ago.

You're a wanted criminal.

You're no daughter of mine.

Won't my own father
believe the honest truth?

I had nothing to do with this.

Can you please help me, Daddy?

Can't I just have a full night's
sleep in the crawl space?

I'll be on the run
again in the morning.

No, I don't want it.

What'd you do, microwave it?

All right, then.

You can stay the night.

But in the morning, you have
to decide whether you're going

to turn yourself in or leave.

OK.

And I'll say I
haven't seen you.

Now, go play some
foosball with Papa.

Put him to bed.

And don't you dare go upstairs
unless you have something

really urgent to discuss.

OK.
Thank you, Daddy.

Thank you.

You're welcome, pumpkin.

Hey, Papa.

Who are you?

Your grand-daughter, Ria.

Do you not recognize me?

Shut your hole.

My grand-daughter
is a ballet dancer.

She's a fine one, too.

I am a ballet dancer.

Do you not remember
coming to my recitals?

If you're a ballet
dancer, where's

your leotard and your tutu?

Silly Papa, that's all just
a matter of changing into.

Why don't you wait
here, I'll change

and put on a show for you
of aggrandized proportions.

Me and the boys will
all be waiting for you.

Ria opens
her music box and admires

the tiny ballerina that
swivels in perfect harmony

with the little classical
music that flows from the jewel

encrusted ornamental gift.

Suddenly, Nisa is
reflected in its mirror.

Nisa, how'd you get in here?

It's OK.

We just need to
have a girl-to-girl.

We're still besties, aren't we?

Or did my episode change that?

You fucking got me
locked up, you bitch!

They're fucking after me now.

How can you just show
up here like this?

I'm sorry.

I just... I just freaked out, OK?

I don't understand
why they're trying

to involve you in all of this.

That's real fucking sweet.

Why don't you tell them that?

You ruined everything for me.

I'm going to get held
back because of you,

not to mention lose my
scholarship with the company

and probably get dragged back
to solitary confinement at St.

Helen's.

I'm here because
I care about you.

And I want to make things right.

So why can't we just take
these mollies like old times?

You know I love molly.

I guess life sucks and
there's no point in dealing

with it sober at this point.

So... so you broke out?

Yeah.

They didn't just let me go.

Maybe they would have if
you turned yourself in.

Well, you know, I think that
you should hit the streets

with me and get rid of shit.

You dealing again?

I need to get the
fuck out of here.

It's going to take some money.

Where are you trying to go?

Anywhere non-USA.

Mexico or Brazil, I don't know.

They'd never let either
of us across the border.

Well, Don Elsoroy's cousin
is going to charter a plane,

and you're coming.

Get real.

Do you not trust me?

Ria, it's time we start
a new life for ourselves.

South America isn't going to
give a shit if we disrespected

some prissy ballet school.

I don't speak Portuguese
or... Spanish or...

This molly is strong.

Are you feeling it?

Yeah.

Already.

It's good.

Ria, I... I need your help.

Because I have the perfect plan.

Ria, will you just look at
me for a second, please?

Listen, don't you
want to dance again?

Nothing ever stopped me.

What the hell is going on?

I never cared for
that kid anyway.

Nisa!

Nisa, you missed it!

You're my grand-daughter,
but nobody's perfect.

I don't know if people are
going to go for this stuff.

Well, I don't know what
to write about anymore.

I take from real life and
people who dump on me.

I try to be creative,
but it's just as bad.

I didn't say trash it.

I'm just trying to
say it's probably

not good for young audiences.

I can't believe you just
ripped up that chapter.

It means I've put up with
all that pecking for nothing.

Don't worry about it.

I scanned it already
to have a backup.

I just wanted to
see your reaction.

You're psycho.

Yeah, I am.

So any more criticism about my
book before I start chapter 10?

Just that maybe you should
bulk up the male characters.

What's going on with Conway?

It's too late for that.

He has nothing to do with how
the story unfolds anyways.

Ria rises in a gown

alone in a strange
blue atmosphere.

Remember, girls, adagio
in no way means allegro.

And by the way, since we have no
one to play the dancing noble,

which one you girls is going
to volunteer to play the duke?

All right, I'll just have to
pick the most masculine one.

All right, you little
daughters of bitches.

This is how it's going to work.

Everyone's going to back
up against the wall.

Yeah, lick the wall,
you little bitches.

Turn around.

Ria, so which one of
these little bitches

do you think we
should end first?

I...

Ria, don't you think
you're appearing weak?

We had such a lovely entrance,
so don't fade out on me now.

OK.

Ainsley.

Ainsley, get the fuck over here.

Good.

Go for it.

Shoot!

Damn it!

You missed them.

Go!

You're both dead.

Why does no one obey the
ballerina with the gun?

Ria, you're not well.

You don't want to do this.

So?

Just put the gun down,
and I won't be mad at you.

I won't be mad.

It's not... it's not me.

Get up.

Face the wall.

I don't want to look at you.

Please, I'll do
whatever you want.

It's too late for that.

What have we done
to deserve this?

Deserve what?

I haven't done
anything to you yet.

Hold us against our will.

It's 1:30.

Class ain't even over yet.

You're making us witness evil.

You better hope you live
long enough to be a witness.

You're a terrorist.

A terrorist?

I'm pretty cute for a
terrorist, aren't I?

Aren't I?

Yes.

Yes.

We could have been friends,
but you laughed at Gab's jokes.

I'm sorry.

They weren't...
They weren't funny.

Did you know that when Eve
ate the forbidden fruit,

humanity was doomed.

And therefore, you're
meant to suffer.

Now, where's Gab?

She run out the back door?

No.

She couldn't have.

It's locked always.

Clever girl.

Then where does she hide?

She has to be in the prop room.

That's the only other
place that she could be.

Please don't hurt me.

Do you know what happens when
you don't play by my rules?

Certain death.

That's all that happens.

What do you want from me?

My dad will give you
whatever it is that you want.

I'm sorry, Nisa.

I was a bitch.

You still are one.

No.

Your face has bitch
written all over it.

Dump it out.

Anything good?

I have $500 in gift cards.

Hey!

Any last words?

Fainting spoils all the fun.

Open up, you little slut.

I want to play with you.

You know you're in there.

This door is never
locked or even shut.

Gab's
panic worsens as the pounding

continues and grows more
violent, coupled with Nisa's

increasing demonic rage.

Gaby.

Hide and seek is for
little kids, not big girls.

It seems we have a little
birdie loose in the attic.

The only one with half a
brain, making me work to kill.

Ria... Ria, bring
Delphine in here.

All right.

Come on, let's go.

Go!

Where's that weasel?

What?

She's up in the ceiling.

How should I know where she is?

I've never been up
there or had any reason

to study the blueprints
of this building.

We have business to attend to.

You're right.

We do.

Ria!

I don't really want
to kill the sisters.

Can you do it.

You need to kill to
avenge your mother's death.

They had nothing
to do with that.

Maren, tell me,
beautiful, how does it end?

I don't know.

I haven't gotten that far.

I know, but you're the writer.

What were you thinking?

There's a few twists
I'm thinking of.

Does it involve the
sisters surviving?

There's a massacre.

No one gets out alive.

Why would you Not
let yourself live?

Why would you seal
your own fate?

I'd look selfish if
you died and I didn't

go down with the sinking ship.

Better selfish than dead.

Why would the reader
want me to live?

I like your character.

It's better than mine.

If I die... when I die...
It's just another ballerina.

But when you die, people
might shed a tear.

Well, I haven't gotten
that far in the story yet.

I suppose we could rewrite
what hasn't been written.

What do you say we make
a beeline to the door?

No.

Saren, I'm afraid.

I'm afraid too,
but we have to try.

The getaway driver
is waiting outside.

He'll kill anyone who flees.

There's a chance he misses.

You're the writer.

Why can't you get
us out of this?

Whether people paid or didn't
pay, they expect a horror.

As much as you and
I want to live,

the kill count
doesn't go uncounted,

and Ainsley is next on the list.

I want you to go back
in there and penetrate

every orifice of their bodies
with your Uzi lead now.

They're not worth my bullets.

They're, like, $0.50 a load.

Then just make them choke
each other at gunpoint.

Then in some sick way,
they all take part in this.

Yeah.

Like Santa's little helpers.

Drink?

No.

Come on.

We're alone now.

Put the sword down.

You know, Ria could
come back in any minute,

and wouldn't that be funny?

If we're all cutesy
all of a sudden.

What?

Having a tea party.

She doesn't know
about our plan?

I didn't see much
sense in telling her.

She could have shot me.

You know, honestly, I
figured she would have

chickened out by now anyway.

No.

She's even more
psychotic than you are.

The drugs are helping her.

What did you give her?

A mix of things.

Methamphetamines, PCP.

My, with any luck, she'll
turn the gun on herself.

Then we'll have
nothing to worry about.

They're her father's weapons.

I guess it's better she
doesn't know anything.

That way, if she's caught,
there'll be nothing

about me in her testimony.

Here.

Here's 5,500, a token
of my appreciation.

No.

I need the cash.

I deposited the contents
of the safe yesterday.

Check's no good to me.

It's OK.

You can deposit that
anywhere for a $5 fee.

So you're just going
to flee with the rest?

20 grand, that won't
last long in Mexico

with my shopping habit.

20 grand?

You and I agreed to
split the till 50/50.

That was your idea.

I never agreed.

I'm a woman.

Women require bigger
salaries than little girls

who are wanted by the FBI.

You should be thanking me.

OK.

Well, this kid is greedy.

I want double.

It's bad enough I gotta split
this shit with Ria and tip

out Don Elsoroy 650.

Put your sword down.

I'll cover Don
Elsoroy's fee in cash,

but you still haven't
killed everyone.

It's not that
easy on the psyche.

Now, Saren, for your
last performance.

Please.

Yes.

You should be thrilled.

None of the other girls got
a proper last performance.

But this movement
requires another dancer.

Imagine she's there.

Like everything else,
this is all made up.

But can't my little
sister join me?

No, Saren.

This is your last performance.

Maren
and Saren watch Ria

lose herself in her own mind.

It is Gab, dead Gab, bound with
strings, dancing haggardly.

She glides through an
atmosphere of nothingness.

Feels out for someone, anyone.

She looks up, imagining
rain upon her face.

I can hear your fear,
you little bitch.

Wakey wakey.

What's going...

On?

Yeah.

You have successfully proven
yourself to be the biggest

pussy in this ballet school.

Did I faint?

I guess you fucking fainted.

Bad dream?

Yeah.

Night terrors?

It's a shame you came to,
because this might hurt less.

Stop it.

Why?

Are you jealous?

Jealous of what?

Gabriella and me.

You mean Ainsley.

I hate them both.

Why can't I have a doll?

You can.

Just wish it.

But you're too practical.

Just let me play with yours.

Why?

Just what's the matter?

Well, why should
I share my toys

when you don't share your boys?

Just watch.

You got her all tangled.

You're not doing it right.

I want to orchestrate it, Nisa.

No.

Let me control it.

You control everything.

Let me do the ballet.

Your mommy didn't
teach you how to share?

You had it all wrong.

Nisa
holds the controls

of the marionette puppet,
which is much larger now.

Get up!

It's time for your last
dance, prima ballerina.

Do your last dance.

Dance!

Dance!

You're a prima ballerina.

Stop!

Dance!

Stop!

Ainsley
takes a few graceful steps

and ends in a.

Poor Ainsley.

Her tears and sad expression
dissolves into pleasure

as she moans and
delightfully runs

her fingers across her lips.

A blood lust victim,
a broken doll.

As smoke clears, Ria turns
back to Maren and Saren.

Maren!

What's happening?

They're onto us next.

We have to make a run for it.

No.
No, Saren.

We can't.

Maren, I love you.

You're the best sister
anyone could ever ask for.

But staying here is suicide.

Running is just the
same, suicide in motion.

Don't make me do it alone.

Don't leave me yet.

It isn't time.

You're going against everything.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

No!

Saren!

No!

No!

No!

Ria
watches with pleasure

as Saren drags her
bleeding body slowly

across the carnage-laden floor.

Saren!

I'm sorry.

Saren.

Saren, no.

Saren, you're fine.

You're fine.
You're fine.

You're great.

Saren, Saren.

The daydream
is prolonged, but not too long,

as soon Ria realizes that
her high-stakes delusion is

inappropriate and a sick,
deep-rooted fantasy.

Nisa dances her big
close as the song fades

and the voices echo around her,
symbolizing the.

Conway, dance with me.

I've got you, Nisa.

Let me take you in my arms.

Yes, Conway.

My charming danseur noble.

Soon, we
will make love again, forever.

Kiss me, Conway.

I don't care for dancing.

Hold me.

Hold me like you held her.

There is no one else.

Just you and I,
together at last.

All that's left to do is love.

Yes, Conway.

Make love to me.

Here?

Now?

Here.

Now.

I can't wait any longer.

No, Nisa.

Save yourself.

No.

Conway, come back.

Die with me.

Let us become dust together.

Nisa, go get Ria.

Take her to the bath
and wait for me there.

I'll handle the rest.

OK.

You guys are fucked up.

Saren?

Ria, drop the gun.

Come get in the tub with me.

Well, well, well.

Look at Ria's accomplishments.

Get it over with.

I want to be with my sister.

Maren, if I kill you, who
will live to tell the tale?

I'm not leaving until
everyone is dead.

And some of us are
still breathing.

Killing your mentor has
life-long damaging effects.

I made you who you are today.

And I hate myself for
creating this madness.

Yes.

I am left to wonder why
all of this is happening.

I don't know.

There's usually no
reason for a massacre.

Delphine
comes in with the Uzi.

Sorry, girls.

This time I've been chosen.

Giselle, Sleeping Beauty,
Juliet, and all the rest.

I'm the perfect prima.

A happy death.

Alex, honey, get
me another glass of wine.

It's empty, like always.

Well, open another
one, like always.

Yes, this is Wren Hayward.

And my security
monitors are showing

me there's rapid
gunfire happening right

now at the building I co-own.

The ballet school.

Yes, yes.

That's the one.

It's happened before.

I think it's the
same damn ballerina.

Should I meet the police
and paramedics down there?

The local news is going
to want an interview,

and I'm practically ready.

Bravo, Maren.

Well done, darling.

You did it.

You overcame your fears and
delusions without breaking

a single mirror.

You wrote all 12 chapters
and survived all three acts

in the ballet of blood.

I'm proud of you.

I did it.

I'm the baroness.

The baroness of blood.

And I'm the baroness,

the baroness of blood.

The end.

Whoever wrote this book
is seriously disturbed.

We have a recital coming up.
We should go practice.

I thought we were
having a party.

I guess these children
have a bedtime.

I hate all you ballerinas!

You ruined my career.

Everything.

Maren, you're the one,
you fucking bitch!