"Dad, stop!" I watched with tears streaming down my eyes as he threw away my pointe shoes. "It's for your good, Beyonce! You get all A's and you're still doing that ballet shit!"
"I should be able to if I'm making A's!" He walked over to me, angry. "Have you ever heard of a black dancer actually making a living?" I wiped my tears. "Misty Copeland." I said, boldly.
"Listen to me! You go to college and get an education and actually succeed in life! You think you could ever be like her? Reality check, you can't!" I ran up to my room, tears running down to my chin. "Can't wait to leave when I'm 18! Mom would let me dance!"
I locked my door so he wouldn't come in. "Beyonce open the goddamn door!" He jiggled until he couldn't get in. Walking away, I thought he was gone. A second later, the door opened with a key.
"No! Stop!" He shook his head, walking towards me. His hand connected with my face and I screamed, feeling the sting even after he did it. "Get your little ass over here so I can teach you some respect!"
I screamed, waking up. "Bey, what's wrong?!" Carter sat up with me. I remembered every single punch and kick, the tears still coming down my face.
"Bey!" Sweat and tears took over my face. "Carter, hold me.." I said in a low tone.
His hands wrapped around my waist and he laid me down, keeping me close. He stroked my hair as I fell back asleep.
•••
Saturday Morning
Waking up, I, sadly, remembered everything that happened last night. I sighed and turned over to Carter. He was up. "Good morning." I shook my head. "It's not good."
"Yeah, what happened last night?" I sighed once more. "Carter, it's nothing important." He nodded. "Has to be if you're screaming 'stop!' and sweating at 4:00 in the morning." He pulled me closer to him. "You said I was one of the few people you trust, you can tell me."
I looked down. "When I was about 13, I got serious about dancing. My dad didn't want me to dance like I said. It got to the point where I'd have to get my dance teacher to pick me up while he was at work and teach me different pieces alone so that I could be home before him."
He nodded. "So one day, he got off of work early and I didn't know. So when I got there, he had my pointe shoes in his hand and was standing at the trash can."
"I remember I was crying so hard while he messed them up and tore them apart because I'd got them from my mother. I couldn't take it so I ran upstairs and locked my door after arguing with him. He came back with a key and opened it."
"Before I could even say anything, he was punching me and kicking me and-..." I stopped before I started crying again. He rested my head under his. "Can I ask what happened to your mother?"
I shook my head. "I don't think I'm ready to talk about it." He nodded. "How long was he doing this?"
"I was 14 when he started and he didn't stop until I left for Juliard." He raised his eyebrows. "Juliard?" I nodded. "One of the ladies that were judging us said I had perfect technique and the personality. Even the flow of my movements counted and they still didn't take me. But they took 2 white girls who definitely weren't as good as me."
He shook his head. "So that's how you started stripping?" I shook my head. "After that, I went to go live with my friend, Kelly. Kelly had a friend who was always checking me out, but I never really had an interest in him."
