"Her or me?" A tear rolled down Michelle's puffy cheek, "You have to make a decision."
For Michelle, life has always been about control-control in the studio, in her friendships, and even in the secrets she hides. But with an unexpected pregnancy...
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I'm home alone. My mom left to go to work early this morning, and I decided to stay home because I felt too ashamed to leave the house. I know that everybody knows about what I did to Michelle, and I don't want to see the look on their faces when I walk back into the studio.
I know that the younger dancers are probably traumatised, and they'll see me as a terrible person because they would never understand why I did it.
Michelle is a horrible, conniving person, and she had to be stopped.
Suddenly, just as I'm about to kick my feet up on the couch, I hear a series of knocks on the front door.
I sigh before beginning to make my way over to the door to answer it. I figure that it's a delivery, and I don't want my mom to get mad at me for ignoring the fact that someone is at the door.
Whoever's outside knocks again, so I say, "Okay, I'm coming!"
As I open the door, the colour drains from my face when I see Michelle standing in front of me...
"Michelle?" I question.
"Is your mom home?" She asks me, while taking a peek behind me.
I shake my head. "Uhm... no, I-."
She pushes past me and invites herself into my home.
"Michelle, what are you doing?" I ask her as I watch her investigate the house, almost like she's making sure that we're alone.
She announces, "We need to talk."
"Uhm... okay." I don't know what to say as I'm quite nervous.
I take a moment to look at the state that she's in. She's wearing a grey zip-up and matching sweatpants. I find it weird because Michelle would never be caught dead in an outfit as hideous as that.
Her face is also extremely messed up, and I realise just how much damage I did to her. Her eyes are swollen and bruised, her face covered in scrapes and sores.
"In the living room?" She asks me.
"Uhm, yeah, sure."
She steps inside the living room, frantically taking a look around before throwing herself onto the couch.
She sighs dramatically. "God, it feels good to sit down."
"W- what happened to you?" I ask her, confused.
She laughs. "What happened to me? Richelle, I think you know what happened to me."
"No, your clothes." I let her know what I was referring to. "What are you wearing?"
She looks down at her clothing before saying, "Oh, these?" And then she reveals what happened to her: "Well, I just broke out of hospital. Look, I couldn't stay there. I just ripped myself from the machine they had me hooked up to, I stole these clothes from a nurse, and then I got out of there."
