Mine "till death do us apart"

Episode 5

I like being alone
But that is I knew you were different
Because for the first time ever
I wanted someone's else company
More than my own
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I've spent the weekend in home  as Kristen shifted with her boyfriend now I am all alone but I like being no more stealing of my skin care and I don't have to hide my pills from her god I don't what she is doing now may she be in peace she struggled a lot .

After coming from therapist I cooked pasta
Alone at table eated in silence as my mobile ring I picked up after two ring

"Hello Sarah speaking."
"Wow your voice is also beautiful just like you."
"Umm thanks but who, do I know you."
"Adam my lady."
They chatted for 10 minutes

I don't know but I suspect something I don't Wana be in Adams company knowing that he is not as charming as I think
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            Monday morning. 

Every one love to give death glares. I’m wearing a snap-closure soft pink leotard and a short black skirt as well as my broken-in ivory pointe shoes. I usually wear them at home for
weeks on end before I rehearse with them or use them in an official show. They become more flexible with time and help me with going up on pointe, especially when I have a rigorous rehearsal—like today.

All of the dancers are on stage as tom  and Emily talk about the choreography. Other dancers hate tom's perfectionist nature, but I love it.

He respects the art too much to let them slack off. Besides, Giselle was recently done by The Royal Ballet, gaining international recognition, and he will stop at nothing to top it.

That makes two of us. Playing Giselle has been my dream since I first watched it as a little girl.
I found magic and heartbreak in her story. Hope and despair. Love and death. I thought it was the most beautiful thing a ballerina could dance.

I had a chance to play in Giselle in my teens, but only as part of the corps de ballet. I didn’t get to experience that despair and live in the head of a woman so betrayed that she escaped in her mind.

That story hit so close to home and I need to experience it, to feel it in the very marrow of my bones.

I was the prima ballerina in Romeo and Juliet, Swan Lake, and recently, The Nutcracker. But Giselle? Giselle will be the peak of my career.
Something I will tell my grandchildren about someday.

“Needless to say”—tom  fixes all of us with one of his custom glares, his celebration mode long over—“I need complete and utter
discipline. No gaining weight. No hangover faces. No breathing the wrong  way. Slouch, and you’re out of my performance. I want to see des jolis postures all the time or I will bring dancers who will show it to me. Faite vite, allez-y!”

Everyone scatters to warm up, their professional faces on display. Liam
stands beside me as he stretches his long legs.

“Another love affair between
you and me. Don’t you think it’s fate?”

I keep my attention ahead as I slowly do a plié. My ankles haven’t been  throbbing as badly as that night, but I still feel that cramp lurking in my tendon, waiting to rip it.

“I thought your fate was with Hannah, liam.”
“Do I hear jealousy, my dear sarah?”
This time, I stare at him. “That’s the difference between you and me, Liam. You hear jealousy. I hear, leave me alone.”
I don’t wait for him to reply and walk to Emily so I can ask her about a part of the choreography. Her posture is refined and elegant, still having the grace of a queen despite being in her early fifties.

She sends one of the staff away when I approach her and folds her frail
arms across her chest. “Tell me.”

“Do you have the finalized choreography for the last part of act one?”
“Why are you asking?” Her voice is deep due to the number of cigarettes she smokes on a daily basis.

“I was watching the performances of—”
She cuts me off with a finger. “Didn’t I say not to watch other performances? Are you a copycat, sarah?”

“No. I watch them so I can get inspired before I put my own spin on it.”
“Why? Are you stuck somewhere?”
“A little.”
“Which part?”
“At the end of act one, right before Giselle dies, how do I convey the emotions without being melodramatic?”
“First of all, you need to stop addressing Giselle in third person. She’s you now. If you don’t live inside her, she won’t live inside you.”

She places a hand on my chest. “If you don’t allow her to consume your heart and soul,
you’ll only go down in history as another ballerina who portrayed Giselle well enough.”

Emily'swords hit harder than I expect them to. I’m vaguely aware of my surroundings when the door to the theater opens and the producers waltz inside, accompanied by their associates. They often watch us rehearse, even though tom dislikes it with a passion.
“Just know this.” Emily takes my hand in hers. “In order to be Giselle, you have to be a whole ballerina and a whole person. No one
denies you’re a whole ballerina with perfect technique and elegance that’s spoken about in all the ballet circuits, but are you a whole person, sarah?”
She releases me and summons the staff over, unaware of the shackle she just snapped around my ankle. My insecurities bubble to the surface, attempting to suffocate me and
pull me under. Turning around, I stuff all those emotions to the bottom of my gut. Luca
once said that I have to face my past to live on, but I declined, stubbornly burying that black hole and its dark box and going on with my life. I’ve been doing great and I will continue to do so, no matter what he or Emily says about it.

After the warm-up, we go through the opening scene. I don’t stop moving or take any breaks. I feel like if I do, my ankle will act up. I need to
see Dr. Kim about it. He’s been taking care of my legs since I had enough money to hire him as my attending physician. He’s the best orthopedist around, and as someone whose daughter wants to become a ballerina, he
understands how much we fuss about the slightest pain in our ankles. But I’m sure he’ll shoo me away with some muscle ointment, as usual.

When it’s time for my entrance, I step into Giselle’s shoes. I’m the timid maid who loves to dance with no care for the world. I leap, then twirl, letting the symphonic music flow through my veins.

Since it’s a somewhat solo scene, I’m pulled from my surroundings and living in my head, a poor maid who has nothing on her mind but dancing.

Not knowing that in her innocence, she’s attracting a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
That’s when I sense it. I’m about to jump when a sharp presence wrenches me from the confines of my fragile Giselle.
For the first time during a rehearsal, I stare at the audience. The producers are there, animatedly chatting among each other.
One isn’t a producer, though. Far from it.
His dark gray eyes lock with mine and I lose my footing. But I save it at the last second, landing on my feet instead of on pointe as per thechoreography.
He’s here.
The stranger has come back.
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