Stella was shipped off to a boarding school for troubled kids after her foster parents died. For the next seven years, that is where she's been, but she's back, and things are not the same as they were before.
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Today marks my final day of freedom before I step into prison (high school).
It's been a boring two weeks, a break from the stress and chores of the boarding school. There was never a shortage of entertainment there, be it from new kids making pacts to run away every few months or the occasional room fights.
I've cleaned and rearranged the house until it practically sparkled, smelling of soap, lavender air freshener, and detergent from the freshly washed linens, towels, and clothes. However, I've deliberately avoided cleaning Dimitri's room, for reasons that are quite obvious.
I'm on the main floor, folding clothes, when the creeping boredom starts setting in. Scanning my phone for a song, I realise I can't seem to find one I'm in the mood for. I scroll down to my recommended songs and come across an instrumental version of Thank u next. Looking around to make sure I'm alone, I decide to play the song.
I listened to the song, and its beauty transported me back to my childhood. With each note, I found myself moving - first to the first position, then the second, the third, and finally, the fifth. It amazed me that my body could still do this after the accident. While I occasionally danced, I had always been hesitant, afraid that the memories would return, that I'd feel the glass again. But, surprisingly, I didn't. I took a further step, easing into a Demi plié, pausing to inspect my hands. There was no sensation of glass, just calmness.
Almost instinctively, my body began to move, shedding the weight of fear, if only momentarily. It felt liberating. I swayed and moved in time with the music, envisioning myself on stage performing. My back started to ache a bit, but the joy overshadowed any discomfort.
As the song neared its end, a door suddenly creaked open. I snapped my head in its direction - it was Dimitri. My entire body tensed, my face contorting into a scowl, and I abandoned my dancing position. His presence confused me; he hardly ever came home. The routine was predictable: he'd arrive early in the morning, leave at 5:00 AM, and return only to sleep. I assumed this would continue, happily not having to see his irritating face. Yet here he stood, disrupting that quiet order.
"What are you doing?" He said with that deep voice that should only be spoken with by a man and not a dickhead.
"What are you doing here?" I say, walking over to my phone, pausing music,
"I live here." I deadpan.
"Barely." I said under my breath looking off to the side for a moment.
"So you want to see me more?"
"What? No, the best part about living here is that I don't get to see you at all. Mostly because I can't stand being here with you."
"Yet you thought it was a great idea to bring your bitch over." He looked away and chuckled. When he looked back at me, his eyes were darker and his jaw clenched. I think he was trying to scare me, but I was only happy, because I was getting under his skin.
