Eva is an abused schoolgirl who lost her will to live. But her repeated attempts of suicide were unsuccessful and after each attempt her abuse kept multiplying. During one such attempt, she gets an message from an unknown id in her dm - "Pixieuwu":...
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The next day, I arrived early for training, my nerves buzzing with anticipation. The energy in the room was palpable as the other trainees stretched and prepared. I was beginning to feel more at home, especially after my conversation with Young-woo. However, I noticed she hadn't shown up yet.
Just as I was getting comfortable, the door swung open, and Young-woo rushed in, looking flustered. I was about to wave at her when I noticed a group of girls clustered together, their whispers loud enough for me to catch snippets.
"Did you see her audition video? Who does she think she is?" one of them sneered.
"Right? She's not even that good. She'll never make it here," another girl added, her tone dripping with disdain.
My heart sank as I caught their glances in my direction. I felt small and exposed, trying to blend into the wall behind me. I had always been the quiet one, and now, in this new environment, the last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself.
Suddenly, Young-woo noticed the tension in the air and marched over, her expression fierce. "Hey! What's your problem?" she snapped at the girls.
They turned to her, surprised by her boldness. "We're just having a little chat," one of them said, trying to sound casual.
"Chatting or bullying? Because it sounds like the latter to me," Young-woo shot back, her voice firm. She turned to me, concern flickering in her eyes. "Eva, come here."
I hesitated but walked over, grateful for her support. Young-woo led me to the side of the room, away from the prying eyes. "Listen, you can't let them walk all over you like that. You need to stand up for yourself," she said, her tone serious but encouraging.
"I don't know how," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. The embarrassment of being bullied weighed heavily on me.
Young-woo frowned. "What do you mean you don't know how? You're a dancer. You have skills. Use that fire! Don't let them see you as weak."
I looked down, my heart racing. "It's just... it's hard for me. My dad... he used to hit me. I've never really been able to fight back."
The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I felt vulnerable exposing that part of my past. Young-woo's expression softened, understanding flooding her eyes. "Eva, I'm sorry. That's rough. But you're not there anymore. You're here now, and you deserve to stand your ground."
Just then, the door swung open again, and in walked Bang Chan from Stray Kids. I had seen him in videos and admired his talent, but now he was here in person. His presence commanded the room, and everyone straightened up, shifting their attention.
"Alright, everyone, let's get started with today's training," he announced. He caught the tail end of our conversation and glanced in our direction. I felt heat rise to my cheeks, wishing I could disappear.
Young-woo straightened up, putting on a confident front. "Let's go," she said, giving me a reassuring nod. "You've got this. Just remember what I said."
I took a deep breath, my heart still racing as we joined the group. Bang Chan began to lead the training session, his energy infectious, but my mind was still spinning from the confrontation and my revelation to Young-woo.
As the session progressed, I caught glimpses of Young-woo stealing glances my way, offering encouraging smiles whenever our eyes met. Despite my earlier insecurities, I felt a spark of determination building inside me. I wouldn't let anyone push me around anymore.
I just needed to find my voice.
After thirty minutes of intense training, the energy in the room began to wane. My legs felt like jelly, trembling from the effort. The memories of my dad's beatings crept back in, reminding me of how weak I could be. I tried to shake off the feeling, focusing on the music and movements, but exhaustion settled in like a heavy weight.
Bang Chan clapped his hands, calling everyone to gather around. "Alright, everyone, I know you're tired, but we're going to practice some more. I want to see how you handle fatigue. It's part of being a performer!"
A groan rippled through the group, but we all shuffled back into our positions. I took a deep breath, pushing myself to keep going despite my aching legs. We started again, the rhythm filling the room and spurring me on.
Fifteen minutes into the next round, my body began to betray me. My vision blurred, and the world felt like it was tilting. I struggled to maintain my balance, my legs threatening to give out beneath me. Just as I felt myself start to wobble, I felt a steady hand grasp my arm. I looked up to see Lee Minho standing beside me, his expression calm and kind.
"It's okay to take a break," he said softly, a small smile gracing his lips.
The concern in his eyes made me feel seen in a way I hadn't expected. "I—I'm fine," I stammered, but even as I said it, I could feel my knees buckle slightly.
"No, you're not," he replied gently, not letting go of my arm. "You're pushing yourself too hard. Just step back for a moment."
I hesitated, torn between pride and the reality of my fatigue. But the warmth of his grip was reassuring, and I nodded, letting him guide me to the side of the room.
"Thanks," I murmured, embarrassed. "I just wanted to keep up with everyone."
Minho shook his head. "You don't have to prove anything to anyone here. We're all in this together, and your health is more important. Rest for a bit."
I took a moment to catch my breath, leaning against the wall as I watched the others continue. Young-woo caught my eye, giving me a thumbs-up from across the room. I felt a surge of gratitude for her support and Minho's kindness.
After a few minutes, I started to feel a bit better, the dizziness subsiding. I glanced over at Minho, who was watching me closely. "You sure you're good to go?" he asked, his voice still gentle.
"Yeah, I think I can manage," I replied, standing a bit taller. "Thanks for looking out for me."
He smiled again, and it made my heart flutter a little. "Just remember, it's okay to ask for help. We all need it sometimes."
With a newfound determination, I stepped back into the practice circle as Bang Chan called for everyone to regroup. I felt a little stronger, buoyed by the support of my teammates. I knew I still had a long way to go, but with people like Young-woo and Minho by my side, maybe I could find my place here after all.
As we resumed practice, I focused on my movements, channeling my energy into the dance. Each step felt a bit more confident, and even when the fatigue crept back in, I pushed through, knowing I wasn't alone anymore.
