Blood and Ballet (PREVIEW ONLY)

Chapter 2 - Choices

Not all things lost can be found. There are some things that no matter how hard you try, elude you, and if you push too far, you break. When it was clear that I would never dance as I once did, there were no words to describe the overwhelming depression that took me. My determination had nearly broken me.

While recovering from my injury, there was hope. I hoped once I was permitted to dance again, I could get my body back to where it once was. When my injury healed, that hope evaporated like water on hot asphalt. I realized there would be no going back. That realization left me lost in the dark without so much as a candle.

Most who cared about me encouraged my delusions—perhaps they didn't want to be the bearer of bad news. "Just keep trying," they would say to me. "It won't happen in a day."

It was my father who spoke reason; he was the one who pulled me from my pit of despair. He saw my depression for what it was. He knew what I knew, that there would be no going back. So, he offered me an escape.

In reality, I think he was tired of watching me suffer. One day he came to me with a big manila envelope stuffed full of train tickets, tickets to various destinations across Europe. Ballet was developed in Europe, and selfishly, I still couldn't release that part of my life.

"Cece," he'd said in his somber voice. "It is time for you to find happiness. You will get none here."

He was right; I would never find true happiness beating a dead horse. So, I begrudgingly agreed to his offer. Not long after, as I traveled through Europe, I began wondering if I would ever find what I sought. Happiness was always out of reach, like chasing a mirage in a hot desert. I was left asking: was it possible? All the dreams I had would no longer come true. The only way to fix that was to pick new dreams.

That's what Vienna was supposed to be, a place to make a fresh start. Now, all I could think was, look how great it turned out for me. I say that with the largest amount of sarcasm I can muster. I was hardly two weeks into my new life before some guy posing as my date tried to eat me alive. Was I to be grateful towards my captors for rescuing me? They took me from one alarming situation simply to throw me into another. After five days of being stuck in a tiny room playing prisoner, I was beginning to believe there might be no place left for me in the world.

On a separate note, I finally learned the name of the man who so forcefully took me to see Caius. For the first couple of days I called him Jailor, which earned me a hard look every time. His name was Felix, and he was my only visitor after arriving.

I saw him three times a day—breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He delivered my food, took me upstairs to use the restroom, and said hardly anything at all. If it weren't for my ventures upstairs, I wouldn't have known the time of day. Those short trips were the only instances where I was exposed to windows, and I couldn't help but look upon them longingly.

On the bright side, Felix stopped treating me poorly after the first night. I think he realized my innocence after first believing me in league with Thrax. Still, I didn't know why I remained a prisoner.

My persistence in questioning Felix regarding the reason for my imprisonment annoyed him. He showed this by clenching his jaw and avoiding my gaze. In fact, he frequently avoided my gaze during our brief visits. When I did catch his eye, there was always the same hunger lurking beneath his stare. Even still, I think I was slowly growing on him.

When I woke up on day six, things began to change. Felix was absent in delivering my breakfast. I had no way of keeping time, but I could tell because my stomach wouldn't stop growling. If someone didn't come for me soon, I was worried I'd pee myself.