Mafia fascinations(2nd book in mafias obsession series)

chapter 38: The story a dancer tells

The theatre hummed with anticipation, each seat filled with someone drawn here by the promise of beauty, and perhaps, just a bit of darkness. Our eyes seemed to be focused on the stage, waiting for our promise to be filled and unable to look away. 

Almost like robots, the dancers walked onto the stage, most possibly knowing how many eyes were on them and possibly enjoying it. Maybe the dancers enjoyed the moment as much as we did, maybe they were enjoying it even more. It felt like the whole theatre was holding their breath, waiting to see how it would begin and end. 

And so suddenly the dancers began to do what they knew best. Dance. Their dance was almost as graceful as they looked, with their spins and jumps and beauty all in one. As i watched my father's words echoed through my head, his words of disappointment, the way he crushed my dream in just a few seconds. 

It wasn't fair that these dancers got support whilst i didn't. What did they have that i didn't. Beauty? Grace? What was so important about that? After all, isn't darkness so much beautiful than the sweet angelic melody that the dancers seemed to sing to have everyone under their spell. 

Most say sirens are the most dangerous with their songs, and before i would agree with them. But the truth was the most dangerous were the angels. The way they hummed and watched over you, knowing every secret. The way they showed beauty, and had many fall to their feet in worship. They brought danger with beauty. It was terrifying, yet others didn't see it like that. Other's were too drawn in by them to see it any different than peace and hope. False peace and hope, that's all they gave. 

One of the dancers drew my attention the most. She seemed to be the definition of grace, with the way she danced perfectly and the way she brought emotion to everyone with just a few movements. It was like she was a fairy, putting a spell on everyone that watched her. Not a strand of her long, silky black hair was out of place. She seemed to be every girl's dream, with her brown eyes that drew people in, seeming like she weighed only as much as a feather did and her outfit fitting her perfectly. How come she was such perfection? What secrets did she hold that made her so perfect? 

I wanted to know past the glass smile that seemed it could break in only a second. Wanted to know what made her feel like she had to be so perfect. Society? Her parents? Maybe it was just her own thoughts. Being cruel enough that she listened, listened with fear and worry that someone would see past her invisible wall. After all someone did see past it, but i only saw past it because i related to it, the need to be perfect. To be good enough for society's standards. She wasn't alone in it. 

Almost like looking into my own reflection, one by one the other dancers began to fall. But she continued to dance, continued to dance around the organs and blood. Continued to be perfect, no matter what was going on around her. Continued to have that perfect glass smile. Her need to be perfect was more clear than anything. 

Although blood was around her, not a single drop landed on her. It was like the blood was even terrified to ruin any perfection. Like it knew how hard she was trying, and felt a little remorse for her. It was like she was dancing with the ghosts and souls of those around her. The audience seemed to drawn in on her to notice what else was happening, like they were all under a great spell that was impossible to break. 

The air was thick with perfume, whispers, and the quiet thrill of expectations waiting to be shattered. Like everyone expected her to eventually fall too and no longer be as perfect as she showed she was. Like everyone was secretly hoping and wishing that she would, just so they could prove that perfection didn't exist. So they could prove that no one truly lived up to expectations. It was like their own lives depended on it. Depended on having someone else fall so they could rise. 

Their hopes wasn't far from reality, for someone else to be seen as perfect and worshipped enough, someone else had to fall. Whether it was a celebrity, the government, maybe even simply someone that was simply comfortable with their own money. It was impossible for anyone to stay on top forever, even if they had something to catch them, eventually they would have to fall into whatever would catch them. 

In the dim glow of the stage, every shadow felt deliberate, every sound magnified, until reality faded, leaving only the promise of movement and music. Every step was practiced just enough that if it happened just one more time she would break. She was just like the ballerina in a music box. But eventually the music box would run out of music, slow down and eventually the ballerina would stop. Maybe the ballerina would no longer be as perfect and break off, and even if it didn't it would eventually become rusty and too used that no one would love it the same amount anymore. Eventually it would be replaced and completely forgotten about. 

The ballerina would feel jealous, used, betrayed. But they would have nothing they could do about it. Instead all they could do is watch and see how the vicious cycle continued. Ballerina after ballerina being loved and then forgotten about. 

Life was nothing more than a vicious cycle. Breaking each life form, time after time and making those alive wish they weren't. Hating the so called gift they were given. Maybe reality wasn't as far from myself. After all people seemed to take pleasure in breaking me down, again and again and again. I just wish that someone would treasure me like they did to others, even if it was just a few seconds. At least to make me know that i could be treasured and i'm not just the disappointment that others made me seem. I wish people would see me as more and truly love me. Love the dark and deranged versions of me instead of being terrified or disturbed. I suppose all that was, was a dream though. I didn't fit into society so why would i be loved?

And then i was drawn back to reality again, reminding me that yet again what i had saw wasn't real. And what was real wasn't as twisted, instead it was beautiful. I didn't know how much longer i could trust my mind before i went completely insane.