That's what I need right now, but I know I mustn't give in to this urge.
I control my actions.
Dance. I have to dance. As quickly as possible.
With my last ounce of strength, I call for Kjell, plug my headphones into my ears, and turn the music up so loud that I can only see his lips moving but can't hear what he's saying.
I gesture toward the airport building and sprint off. Faster and faster, I rush out to the taxi stand. Kjell watches me skeptically, but I don't care.
Nothing matters to me except this one thing.
Hang on, Sky. Hang on.
When we arrive at the hotel, my clothes are soaked with sweat. I check in, leave Kjell to his fate, and hurry up to the fifth floor, where Father has reserved the penthouse suite.
My fingers tremble so violently that the card reader on the door takes an unbearably long time to read the code.
Finally, the lock clicks open.
With the music that has sustained me all the way here still in my ears, I slam the door shut behind me. Then I throw my jacket, scarf, and bag on the floor, kick off my shoes, and spread my arms.
Even the first dance steps bring me the relief I so desperately need. The twirl soothes my inner turmoil. I spin around, tiptoe to embrace myself, and sway to the rhythm of the music.
I dance all the stress out of me, gradually rid myself of the compulsive urge, and shake off the panic. Tears of relief well up in my eyes.
Done.
I control my actions.
I'm not free by any means and never will be again. But I'm empty, and that's the only kind of peace I can have now.
