dancing in the stars (ballerina x singer wlw romance)

chapter thirty

SUMMER

I'm living inside a nightmare.
I wait for it to end.
For reality to kick back. For me to wake up. I've had a thousand nightmares about me breaking my ankle, my hip, my leg, and no matter how scary they were, I always woke up.
I have to wake up. Wake up, Summer. Wake up and all of this will end.

"She's not okay, Lu."

"She's in shock, mom."

"Mia, baby, you need to stop crying– you're scaring her."

"She's already terrified, Luna!"

"Mrs. Bennett, can I speak to you for a moment?"

"Someone should stay with her—"

Hands.
A lot of hands are on me. My legs, my hair, my cheeks, my arms, everywhere. It's over. Everything is black, I don't think I'm alive anymore, but when I think everything is quiet and peaceful, a lot of noises come alive– making my head hurt. The pain an awful reminder that this is not a nightmare.
I lay in a hospital bed, my leg in a cast boot and propped up high on a wedge.

"It is a fracture," he had said. "I can tell by just looking at it that this has been going on for months, building up to the moment where the ankle could not take it anymore and just gave in. Thankfully, she won't need surgery, but there's a lot of damage. We're looking at a seven-week recovery plan, maybe even longer. I'm very sorry to be the one delivering the news, but after she recovers– it's very unlikely to dance at the same level she's been dancing until recently."

I closed my eyes and lose myself in the darkness after I heard him. Very unlikely to dance at the same level I've been dancing.
In other words, my professional career is over.
I hear the clock ticking in the distance, voices echoing in my ears. My mom's been crying for hours, my mama's been trying to calm her for hours. My sisters' are clinging to my hands and Willow– I don't know where she is. Is she here?
I haven't cried yet, I don't think I have tears in my body– I remember crying all the way to the hospital, my mom shushing me and kissing my forehead and Willow on the other side just holding my hand. I don't have any strength to cry. I don't have any more energy in my body– I haven't slept in days, haven't eaten in weeks, haven't felt free in months.
My wings are broken. My dream is gone, but a small part of me feels relieved.

It's over.

I can't bring myself to move, I'm completely still in the hospital bed– thinking, replaying all those years I had on the stage. I'm eighteen, my professional career is supposed to start right now– but it ended. It's gone. It's over.
Summer Bennett, the youngest professional ballerina on earth, was killed before she was even born.
The Swan Lake was supposed to be my biggest accomplishment, now it's just something that could've happened.

"Summer, can you hear me?" someone says, the voice sounds like the doctor that told me my career is over. "I need to run over some tests, can you come with me?"

I nod, not even opening my eyes. My movements are robotic–mechanical even– as I sit up and move to the wheelchair someone's holding for me. A sharp pain travels through my leg, reminding me that this is happening and it's very real, I wince and bite the inside of my cheek so hard that I think I'm bleeding. I hear my moms talking, I don't hear what they say– I just listen to their voices. Worried, rushed, hard. I haven't said a word since I came into the hospital. I think, if I did, I don't remember.