I reach the end of the hall and prepare to take the corner, feeling guilt claw its talons right through my chest when I hear him clear his throat from behind me.
“B-Blaine,” he stutters, and it hurts to hear. I pause, not turning around. I can’t yet. I can’t face the sympathy. I can’t be looked at like the victim. I want to be normal. All I have ever wanted is to be…normal.
I have always been the survivor.
I’m fucking sick of it.
My back is still turned to Caleb and I squeeze my eyes closed, feeling the unwelcome waterfall of searing tears coating my heated cheeks and neck.
A moment of silence passes, then he speaks, “I won’t tell your brother.” His voice is so quiet, yet I still hear it tremble.
I spin around so fast, my cherry red hair flicking into my dampened eyes. I shove the clean strands away and tuck it behind my ears, feeling the warmth of my blood from my throbbing hand smear across my forehead. My blue eyes meet Caleb’s green. They’re glossed over, though only for a moment. He drops his chin and rubs them into the black t-shirt that sits tight over his shoulders, then he walks toward me, tugging me in for a hug,and I let him.
Because today it feels nice.
Today it feels…safe.
Caleb’s hand drifts up and down my tricep in comfort when he states, “We both know that would kill him.” Then he grabs my wrist gently, sighing when he finds it hanging limply. “Let’s get this sorted out.”
Three Months Later
Two weeks ago, I realized pretty quickly that the ballerina life wasn’t going to be for me. Though I always had an inkling, I had to try,for her, my mother, for the career that was cut short the day that I lost her.
I had spent ten weeks healing.
Physically.
Internally was an entirely different story.
There was no length of time that could suture a permanent wound, especially the kind that was carved as deep as mine.
After staying at Caleb’s for a month, I settled on a fully furnished, spacious two-bedroom apartment in the middle of the city. He came to every opening, bargained with the real estate untilhewas happy. He was protective, wanted the best for me, and there was a warmth that came with that, a sense of belonging.I was grateful for him.
The space was bright with large open windows. I wanted to be where the noise was and the flocked crowds gathered, and this was exactly that. It was perfect. I had no intention of findingmyself in the darkness where I could be targeted,crept up on.I was paranoid and wary, and I had every fucking right to be.
Food deliveries became my best friend when I spent the first two weeks hauled up inside. As far as I went was to my balcony to feel the sun on my pale skin and the fresh air caress my lungs. Caleb tried his best to get me out for late lunches, or a drink at the bar he was working at, and even though I rejected every time, he didn’t stop asking.
I appreciated that.
The subtle push to find some normalcy again.
His apartment was only a block from mine, and he insisted that I didn’t have to leave, though the moment I felt myself clinging to his safety, I knew I had no choice. I had to break the cycle ofneedingsomeone. And even though he was here more often than not, I was taking a stand on my own. That was important to me, for my survival, for my growth, to take intentional, slow steps away from my grim past.
During the time I spent healing my physical wounds, I had seen there were open auditions taking place at one of the largest ballet academies in Los Angeles. I had two weeks to prepare, and I knew it was risky, stupid even. It was way too fucking soon, yet somehow, I couldn’t find a fiber within me to care. I spent every waking minute burying my toes into the gray timber flooring of my apartment's living room. It took a good week for me to gain control again—well, as much as I physically could.
Constant pain at my ankles was brutal, yet dull. Every nerve and tendon had been damaged from the barbed wire that had found its vicious place around my flesh.
The only way I could move through it was by popping four Tylenol, clenching my molars together, and just simply sucking it up.
Since the damage was permanent, something I would have to learn to live with, there was no better time than now to test how far I could really push myself.
I tried so hard not to let myself feel the reality of its weight.
My captivity and trauma had the ability to destroy me. I wouldn’t letthe triangletake any more from me than they already had, because when I tell you they took everything,I truly mean it.
The only thing they couldn’t take was my breath, and that was all I needed to keep going. You don’t get second chances often, and I wasn’t going to waste mine.
So, I attended that audition.
