Bruises (On Hold)

Chapter Three

I practically ran through the door, desperately wanting to get to the dance studio fast. My footsteps pounded on the gray floor that soon turned into carpet. The lady at the front desk, Linda, who has known me since I was an infant, didn't even flinch when I was grabbed the keys from the gray desk. I unlocked the door of the studio hastily, eager to let out the broken feeling of rage and sadness.

I plugged in my phone to the studio, setting up one of my favorite songs, The lonely, by Christina Perri. The melody started to blast through the speakers and I got in position.

I let the music take over my body, as my feet moved under me gracefully. I poured my emotions into my swift movements all across the floor. All the anger and grief left my mind, as tears stung my eyes and ran down my cheeks.

The rhythm picked up its pace, and so did I. The most powerful and strengthen part of the song came so gracefully as I let my mind be free. I felt the strength and anger of the song control my body.

The song ended slowly, and I stood there, hoping to catch my breath. My breathing came out as heavy pants. Sweat rolled down my face, colliding with my tears as I looked at the mirror in front of me.

All of this, was for me, that broken girl I saw in the mirror with miserable sad eyes. This dancing, it was for me. This studio, it was for me. This way of escape, it's for me.

This studio was my mothers. She was the owner of it and she loved to dance. It was one of her many passions, but by far her favorite. She always loved to teach me her performances and have me in class with other little dancing girls. I took over those classes when she passed after I grew a bit older. Every Saturday and Sunday I teach two different classes on each day.

Ballet was one of the many form of dance I knew how to do, but it's by far my favorite. It was my mom's favorite too. When she had died, I felt like I had needed to continue her legacy and passion.

Dance wasn't just something you do for fun, or just because you're bored. It's an art, it's one of the most beautiful pieces of art I've ever known. It gives me a chance to be free, and be completely vulnerable but sincere at the same time. It makes me feel like I'm connected with my mom. It makes me feel like her spirit is there, dancing right next to me.

I looked over my shoulder in the mirror, seeing my mom standing there, a huge smile on her face. She danced around the studio, her moves elagant and diligant. I smiled, staring at her in disbelief.

"M-mom?" My voice came out shaky.

She stopped dancing, and turned her head towards me. She gave me a small smile as I ran over to hug her. Just as I was a fingertip length away, she disappeared into nothing. It was like she has just teleported from right infront of me into the black pit in my stomach.

I shook my head, sitting down on the floor. My breathing returned to normal again, but sweat still glistened on my face.

I sighed, getting up after a couple of minutes. I walked out of the studio, a small smile on my face.

"Have a good day, Linda." I said as I put the keys back on the desk where she sat. She looked up at me, giving a nod of acknowledgement, smiling back.

It was our daily routine. Every time I come to the studio, this was the way it was for me and her. Our small conversations have said a lot over the years. We know a lot about each other, and we do have some good long talks here and there.

I stared at the word slut that was still spray painted on my car. I had to get it off, but it would be a lot of money. I got in my car, sighing.

I sped off, figuring it would be about time that I got the horrible word off, even though it's only been a day with it on.