Hunted

Act 1; Her Circumstances

It was the dawn of a new day, and she woke up two hours before it.

After a rigid warm-up session in her private studio, she brewed herself her favorite cream coffee and waited for the sunrise to peak at the horizon, standing in front of the glass walls with a towel over her shoulders.

In that strange city where gambling ruled the night and bets were a daily event, there was a strange event, one of many, where a certain concert hall would hold an entire day dedicated to arts. This day was usually the last day of each month, which was today.

One would think that after spending the entirety of summer traveling all over Europe performing as the coryphée for the ballet group, Das Sterbebbett, one would finally come back to her hometown and relax, maybe even catch up on some schooling. Alas, it wasn't meant to be, for as soon as she boarded the plane, a call came in inviting her to perform on said event.

If she was the one calling the shots, she would have politely declined. But she wasn't, so she took the job and ended up spending the first month of school practicing. She kept telling them she could have balanced schoolwork with dancing if they gave her the chance, but they wouldn't have any of it.

It was either school or dancing, and though she found it unfair for them to make her choose, she didn't hesitate to answer dancing. The conversation ended there, and it was off to the studio.

She looked down when something fluffy rubbed against her leg, and she smiled down at the big animal pining for her attention now that she was taking a break.

She knelt down and gave him a good rubdown, the sunrise peaking over the horizon, its golden rays penetrating the glass pane and entering the space she resided in, coating the dance studio in a golden hue she avoided whilst practicing before light, careful of the possibility of alerting people she didn't want to know she woke up early for warm-ups.

The smell of cool air-conditioning was stagnant in the air. The pristine floorboards was scratched and dirty with every rigid session. The mirror reflected her every movement, her every mistake, for her to know what she had done right but most importantly, what she had done wrong. And the barre that always kept her standing, balanced, giving her support until she convinced herself that she was ready to do pointe work all on her own...

She had spent more time in that dance studio than anywhere else in her entire life. A summer spent traveling around Europe was no competition. Even if they told her to consider it a vacation, she couldn't think of work as anything but what it is. Work.

She sighed. When she first said she wanted to become a ballerina, she meant one that would dance only for those she wanted to see her dance. Not in front of strangers constantly seeing her as a danseuse meant to be judged. Not to compete with those constantly jeering her in hopes that they would throw her off her game.

One would think that being so popular with the public would make her more social and susceptible to friendships. Instead, it only gave her a vision of the gap between others and herself.

A tune rang through the room, and her gaze went to the bag lying on the floor in the corner. She went to it to shuffle for her phone, and once the IPhone was out, she had to smile at who was calling.

She definitely had few friends, but she treasured each and every one of them. Like the one calling now.

"Antoinette!" She greeted, taking a seat on the floor. Her pet followed her and snuggled by her thigh. She petted his head.

"Amelia!" came the high-pitched voice on the other line. Her friend and co-dancer in Das Sterbebbett, was the only one able to come to her performance that evening, but Amelia didn't mind. She was sure the others had their own things to do. "How's preparations going?" Antoinette asked in French.

Amelia replied in the same language. "Good, good. I'm a bit nervous since I haven't been in my hometown for so long, but I'm sure my nerves will ease once I see you on the balcony seats, yes?"

"Of course my darling Amelia! You can count on me! So long as nothing goes wrong with my flight I'll be there with plenty time to spare before your performance! And then maybe you could show me around America, or at least that city of yours, yes?"

She giggled. "I'll try. I really do hope nothing goes wrong. You know how fickle airports could be. You just never know when—"

"Yes, yes. I know. But pray for me darling that nothing does go wrong and I'll do the same with your performance, okay?"

She sighed, if only to ease her own nerves. "Yes."

"Well, I better get going. You know how these international calls are. Ta ta, darling! Mwah!"

"Mwah." And the line was cut. She looked down at the lazy fur ball resting his head on her thigh as she continued to scratch the back of his ear, his nuzzle twitching every now and then.

She rested her head on the wall, staring up at the ceiling. The Mariposa Arts Festival was a day dedicated for the city to appreciate the arts. Be it paintings in museums, plays in theaters, or dance recitals in concert halls, everything takes place in one day, and as far as she knew of rumors, gambling was done underground.

She sighed. She should get some sleep before the final rehearsal.