Evelyn's dream of securing a scholarship to America's top ballet school shattered when her mother was brutally murdered during her teenage years. Determined to make a difference, she became a detective, ready to take on the world. Assigned to invest...
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Evelyn arrived home after what felt like the longest day in history. Her back ached from hours hunched over at her desk, and her head throbbed with the lingering frustration brought on by Detective Wilson. He had been under her skin from the moment he realized she wasn't going to drop the case. The man was like an uninvited ghost who refused to leave, irritating, overbearing, and impossible to ignore. Still, there had been one bright spark in the day: the way she'd handled the bikers. Smooth. Controlled. Unshakable. If she were honest with herself, she'd managed better than she'd dared hope and that, she decided, deserved a reward. A generous glass of wine seemed only fair.
She stripped off her work uniform and tossed it into the laundry basket without ceremony. Slipping into loose cotton pants and her favorite oversized hoodie, she padded barefoot into her spotless kitchen. From the cupboard she took down her tallest, most loved wine glass and reached for a bottle of deep red she'd been saving. As the dark liquid slid into the glass, its rich scent curled through the air, promising warmth and ease. Wine in hand, she drifted over to the sofa and switched on the television. After a lazy session of channel surfing, she landed on MTV, letting the beat of the music wash over her. She took a slow sip, eyes closing in pleasure as a spark of energy began to hum through her body.
She'd danced less and less since joining the police force, the hours swallowed by endless shifts and exhaustion. Now, she only danced a few times a month, and always here at home, away from the eyes of the world. But tonight, with the wine loosening her, the music whispering to her bones, she felt that old, wild urge. Smiling to herself, she set down the glass and wandered to the front door, where her "lucky shoes" waited, a battered yet beloved pair she'd worn for countless dancing lessons. She slid them on with slow movements. A deep breath in. A long breath out. Eyes closed, she surrendered to the rhythm. The beat tugged her forward, swaying her hips, guiding her spins, sliding her into movements her muscles remembered like an old lover. Her body bent and flowed, her turns smooth and near-perfect. In her mind, she was no longer in her small apartment. She was on a stage, the spotlight bathing her in gold. New York. Paris. Her heart pounded with the rush of it, the imagined roar of the crowd. Faces swam before her, strangers, until one stood out in terrifying clarity.
Her mother. Pale. Lifeless. Eyes fixed on her from the front row. Evelyn breath caught. Her heel caught and with a sickening thud, she hit the floor, the wine glass rattling on the table nearby.
"For God's sake, Evelyn... it's not real," she whispered, her voice breaking as she shake her head, as if she could get it of herself. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the image away, but the memories rushed in anyway. Her hands was trembling as they griped the cold flor, trying to find something to ground her. She was small again, sitting at the old wooden kitchen table, watching her mother stir something goof smelling on the stove. Her gorgeous long brown hair was flowing down her shoulder as she was moving around the kitchen. She was singing on their song as Evelyn sat and did her homework, just like the two usually did. Then, the front door crashed open destroying the peace. For Evelyn it had been like cold water splashing all over her. Screams was shouted and her mom was fast to her side, to make sure she was okay. Men flooded in, their hands full of knives and guns. Her mother's scream split the air, shouting for Evelyn to hide. She'd obeyed without thinking, cramming herself into the narrow cupboard, pressing her hands over her mouth to muffle her sobs. The seconds dragged into hours, hours into what felt like days, until at last she dared to crawl out.
