The Darkest Swan

Chapter 10

-𝓒𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓷-

Her skin is light and pale. She's youthful. She could only be 18 or 19, which makes this all the more wrong. 

This visiting of mine has become an involuntary habit. I try to stay away. I really do. But she's enticing. My mind kinda drifts to the women when it gets late. It's only because I know she's so close. Like an addiction, only I could ignore the temptation if I wanted to. 

I don't want to. 

Fuck. She bends down, stretching out her hip muscles. I can see her entire ass from here. I'm such a creep. I better leave before she notices me staring. 

I turn around but I stop when I hear that velvet voice. "Chris- Mr. Storm?"

I smile at her slip up. She wanted to call me Christan. She wanted to have her own personal connection with me. I want that too. But I don't dare tell her that. 

She'd be good for a quickie but I'd never invalidate the contract I signed when I got into this school. She's entirely not worth me losing my job. 

I turn back around, bearing two muffins in my hand. I plop one down on the bench next to the door. I wonder if she eats while she's here. I want her to eat, I realize. But for the life of me, I can't understand why.

She's just a girl. She's unimportant to me. I don't even know her.

"Isn't it past your bedtime?" I turn my nose up in mock suspicion. 

"I told you, I don't have one." She taunts, in her lilac voice. I love getting on her nerves. She's so hot when she's mad. 

She plops down on the floor, taking off her pointe shoes. They look horrible. More blisters and tape than I've ever seen on a dancer. It must hurt like hell to continue this practice shit every night.

I plop down right next to her admiring her cuts and bruises. She stretches them over and over again. She shows no sign of pain on her face. Simply indifference.

"Can I?" It's not uncommon for dancers to stretch each other's legs but I know It's my mind's way of begging my hands to touch her. I'm such an asshole. 

She shrugs nodding and leaning back on her hands. 

I take my place at her side, grabbing onto her calf and pushing as far as it will take me towards her body. She whimpers at the harshness.

"Does it hurt?" I ask.

"Mhmm." She sighs.

"Good. It's supposed to hurt." I push back even more.

"Ahh." She hisses. I make sure that I don't hurt her more than her leg can take.

I let go and she relaxes her whole body. "It feels better, doesn't it?"

"Yes, where did you learn to do that?" She whimpers when I whip her other leg towards her body.

"It relieves some of the tension in your thighs by rushing the blood back into your torso," I explain.

I bring her leg down appreciating the touch of her skin against my palm. I kneed her thighs, trying to soothe some of the aches from the last couple of weeks. "You're knotted everywhere," I comment.

"I'm stressed everywhere." She sighs.

"I can imagine." I empathize with her. After all, I was in her position once too.

"You're a magician, truly." She groans as I apply pressure to her calf. 

Anything to hear you groan like that. 

Someone punch me. 

"What's got you so stressed?" I ask because I can practically feel the tightness in her body. 

She opens her eyes. It's then that I realize, this girl has taken on more than she can chew. She'll never admit it though. That's who she is. She's a determined little swan.

"I'm-" She interrupts herself. "I just need time to adjust, that's all." She clears her throat. 

That's not all. I can tell that's not all. From the tiny bit I know about her mother, I pity the poor girl.

How she turned out this well-rounded is a mystery to me.

She sits up suddenly bending her neck from side to side, in aggravation. "Let me help with that." I say entirely for my own reasons. 

Why am I doing this? I can't fuck her. I don't want anything from her, so why the hell do I care?

I've always been selfish, so this surprises me. 

I press my hands onto her shoulders digging so deep into her skin that she cries out. She grabs onto my arm from the surprising pain but she doesn't tug or pull; she just sits there. "Pain is good, it makes the tension go away." I whisper as she pulls her hand down from my hand.

Her turtle neck slips down a little and I notice the purple blotching right away. Anger floods through me for absolutely no reason. Who marked her neck like this?

I forcefully pull the turtle neck down to get a better view. She wore it just to cover the damn thing.

She turns her head surprised. "Who did that to you?" I rub the pad of my thumb over the thing. 

She leans away a bit, her eyes are sharp and confident but her body displays internalized confusion. I don't blame her, it was random. 

"What does it matter to you?" Despite the confident words her voice shakes. She seems confused, maybe even as confused as I am. And timid, like she's walking on eggshells. Did I yell too loud?

I get my bearings at least a little before I respond. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to raise my voice at you." I shake my anger off. It's not my right.

She blinks, unable to respond. "I'll walk you home," I say, hoping I didn't ruin the semblance of peace we had.

"No, that's really okay. I've got my pepper spray, remember." She jokes. 

"I'm walking you home. It's not up for debate." I insist. It's later than she's ever stayed. I can't let a girl like her walk alone this late. It's not even a fucking question this time. Her pepper spray will do jack shit against a gun or any other person who tries to hurt her.