𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

𝟏𝟓 | 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐲

Antoinette

        The once-vibrant exterior, now peeling and weathered, was marked by cracked paint and broken tiles. As I stood inside of the theater, the air was thick with dust, and the faint smell of mildew hung in the atmosphere. The old theater wasn't exactly a safe hangout spot, but whenever I needed clarity and a place to escape, this was where I came. Right now, it was exactly what I needed. My conversation with my best friend Esmeralda echoed in my mind, and I couldn't shake it off. Stay away from him Annie.

Esmeralda and I had been friends for many years, and she had never gone out of her way to warn me about anyone. Yet, the moment I mentioned Matthew Benedict's brother, she quickly voiced her concerns. In the park, he had been a little mean and seemed to be involved with drugs... was that why she was so adamant?

I never knew that Matthew had a brother, but now that I saw him, I felt an inexplicable pull toward him. I tried to rationalize it, telling myself it was just because he was in my house, but I knew it was deeper than that. He looked intriguing—intimidating yet fascinating. There was something about him that drew me in, a mystery I felt compelled to explore.

I positioned my feet into a starting stance, holding my head high while my eyes remained fixed on the dirty floor. As my CD player began to play a soft melody, the smooth voice of Rihanna filled the space with "Love on the Brain." The haunting lyrics resonated within me, creating a backdrop that matched my emotions perfectly. I felt the music seep into my bones, urging me to move and express what I felt inside.

She was my favorite solo artist, and I often loved choreographing dances to her songs, even if they weren't the genres I had been trained in. As the music played, my body began to move on its own, my feet gliding across the wooden floor as I smoothly shifted backward. Dancing was my way of releasing stress and one of the few ways I could truly express myself. Despite knowing I might never perform these styles in front of a real audience, hip-hop and pop were my favorites. That didn't stop me from creating quick routines for the songs I enjoyed most,

And It Keeps Cursing My Name.

My frown was replaced by a soft smile as my fingers gracefully wrapped around my waist. Rising onto my tiptoes, I began spinning in quick yet composed circles. Dancing was all I knew; it was the only thing my brother truly expected from me. I could have failing grades on my report card, but as long as people complimented him on my performances, he didn't care. After one final spin, I landed on my feet and dramatically slid down until I was flat on my back. My fingers tapped along my body in rhythm with the music, and I couldn't help but laugh at how odd I probably looked in that moment. Yet, in my little world, I felt utterly free, lost in the joy of movement.

Baby, Keep loving me.

As soon as that lyric echoed through the speakers, I sat up with my back arched and quickly executed a full Valdez. My feet left the ground just as swiftly as they returned, and my hair tumbled into my face as I leaped. The thrill of the moment only fueled my laughter, a soft sound that filled the room. While I viewed dance as a beautiful expression, I couldn't help but find the way I looked while executing certain moves amusing. It was a delightful blend of grace and absurdity,

Surely, I'd never laugh in public or during a performance, but in the comfort of my own home, it was a regular occurrence. The hum of the beat continued as I executed an illusion in slow, deliberate movements, trying to make the transition more visually appealing. Critics often remarked that I rushed through it, rendering the move less attractive. Finally, as my feet returned to the ground, I positioned my right foot backward, preparing to transition into a series of pirouettes. The anticipation filled me, and I could feel the rhythm guiding my every motion, ready to embrace the spin.