Dancing through life

Chapter 1: My studio at night

"Emma? Are you listening?" scolds Madame Lamborne. I messed up, again. The other students snicker as they watch me fail to do the
routine.
"Look at her legs!" a girl whispered. I straightened them automatically.
Madame Lamborne sighs. "Class dismissed. Au revoir!"

I pass by the crowd of gossiping girls and head towards the changing room.
I change quickly and leave. I head towards an abandoned studio. It was used as a yoga area during the day, but not at night. It was my practice studio at night. I sneak in from an open window. I turn on the lights and put on my ballet shoes. I stretch my legs and warm up my toes.

I exit the studio. Shoot! It's raining! My phone rings. I answer.
"Hey Em, do you want me to pick you up? It's raining, pretty bad." Jake says.
"It's fine." I replied.
"Nope, not without an umbrella." he says.

"Can you please pick me up, then?" I ask
"Pretty please with cherry on top?" he asks, teasingly
"Whatever you said." I replied. He chuckles and I hear him turn on the engine.

I hang up. Soon enough, a car shows up and there's Jake.
I get in and fasten my seatbelt. Jake does not have his seatbelt on. He must be distracted.
We drove passed the post office and the bank.
His phone starts ringing. He ignores it. "Jake, your phone." I pointed out.

"It's just Mia, she doesn't like it when I'm not with her. She is a little clingy, I guess." responds Jake
"She really nice to me, through." I said, looking out the window.
"Yeah." he agrees.
Jake turns and a car crashes into us. The car starts to spin like crazy. I hit my head on something hard. I black out.

It was about 1 week since my brother, Jake died. He was driving me home from ballet class. A drunk driver crashed into us. The last thing I remember is the car spinning like hell. I woke up in the hospital, three days later. Jake, he didn't make it. He died. He wasn't coming back.
My brother was never ever talk to me, again. He'll never tease me about my pink tip toe shoes. He was never going to play football, go to college, get married. I see him everywhere and when I reach for him, he disappears.

My mom had said to me, "You're lucky, you survived."
That is not true, when someone dies, the people who suffer the most are those who were left behind. I can't get this cold fact in my mind.
He was never ever coming back. I was left behind. I was brotherless. I was siblingless.
My life was shattered. There were somethings you can fix, but this wasn't it.

It was my goddamn fault. It was raining really hard that day. Jake offered to take me, home. Just like the selfish beast, I was. I agreed.
I should have done something. I could have walked home. I should have died with him. Jake was the golden child.
He had good grades, he was popular and he was good at sports. I was the black sheep of the family. If I had died, who would have cared?

I was known as the girl who was related to the Golden boy and I was also known as the girl who hid behind books, now I am known as the girl who killed her brother. I was involved in the accident with him!

I lean over and lift up my leg. The worst part of losing your brother is when people pat me on my shoulder and say I'm sorry for your loss.
How dare they say that! They don't even know what's it like. That's like slapping my face with reality and pain. They say it like they don't mean it, because they all think I killed him. Another thing that irritates me is when people say he is in my heart. I don't want him in my heart! I want him here, talking to Mia, teasing me, playing football! Ballet is the only way I cope.
My thoughts flow freely as I twirl around the studio.

I practice the ballet routine until I perfect it. My mom was devastated and my dad didn't look at me for weeks. He couldn't believe that his golden boy was gone. My family was falling apart. My mom was arguing more and more with dad. Dad tried to make me at like Jake.
Every time, they looked at me. They were reminded of what they lost and what they burdened with.

The studio was the only place that accepted me. It didn't compare me with my brother. It was patient and open. After all it has no mouth.
My parents didn't really care about me, before Jake's death. Now they looked at me as if I was the cause of all this pain, their collapsing marriage. As if I asked for much. Last year, my dad told me to quit ballet lessons, so that they can afford Jake's college.

Jake was furious. "What kind of parents are you guys? The world doesn't freaking evolve around me! Emma loves ballet! You'll never make me quit football to afford her college!" he said. So here I was doing what I loved. And Jake doing something, somewhere.
People believed that I was jealous of my brother so I killed him. Who in the right mind kills their brother?

I loved my brother, just like any other sister in the world. Why couldn't anyone see that?
I dance alone, I am always alone, recently. It's the way I prefer it. No drama, harsh comments and of course, misjudgement.
Jake was the only one who truly understood. But he's gone now. Thinking about him is like stabbing myself with a knife, but oddly it comforts me. I let my dancing distract me and wash away my thoughts.

I dance and dance. I dance away all the reality and lose myself in the dance. It is my only salvation, my only redemption.