Ylisse High

Concealed Love

A/N: Trigger Warning: Cutting Mention and Abuse

Chapter Art is not mine. Cred to artist

Entire chapter is in Olivia's point-of-view. There are many flashbacks; I'm sorry if it's confusing :(

It's a long chapter ^-^

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Olivia
(Dance Class)

"Wow you must be a natural!"

"Olivia was probably dancing ever since she was born."

I shook my head no and smiled. Everyone in dance class complimented me and praised my technique. I stepped off of the stage and sat with my classmates in the audience.

"You did great out there!" Robyn whispered to me.

I inwardly sighed of relief. "Th-thank you."

Robyn hadn't felt the need to address my "hereditary" dance skills, so she's definitely on the good side. Then again, she'd only been going to our school for about 2 days.

Someone behind me tapped on my shoulder. "Hey Olivia, could you show me how to jeté like that?" Maribelle pointed to a girl on the stage.

I slowly nodded. "Sure."

Unfortunately, everyone around us heard the little exchange and then rapid questions were fired at me.

"Olivia, can you please please please show me how to do a correct plié?"

"Olivia, you should show me how to do a cool fouetté."

"Hey Olivia about that thing that you were going to teach me on Friday..."

"Olivia! I thought that you were going to help me with my balance exercises!"

~~~

Olivia! Olivia! Olivia!

Men sneer, reach up on the low stage, and try to grab my dress. I'm only 12 years old.

"Come on toots! We want to see ya dance some more!"

My vision is blurry, tears are dripping off of my cheeks. My legs feel like jelly and they finally collapse.

"Boo!" The crowd begins to throw trash at me.

"Boo! Dance or get off the stage!!"

As much as want to leave, I can't move. A woman walks up onto the stage. My boss.

She picks me up and we head out of the bar. I feel a breeze when we walk out of the sweaty atmosphere and into the city air. It is an early summer night. The sound of cars speeding by and whooshing air is a little relaxing.

My moment of bliss is demolished when my boss roughly sets me onto the curb.

"Ya better not come back tomorrow, unless ya planning on dancing."

I shiver against the cold sidewalk and quietly say, "But I did."

"What?"

"I DID!" I scream. "I-I danced and I need my money."

"Nuh uh sweetie, you ain't gettin paid."

I feel my heart beat faster. "...what?"

"The deal was: you dance for 8 hours a night, you get paid. Today, you only danced for 7 hours and 46 minutes. And you ain't got no parents that could get me into trouble. So that means no money for you dear. Bye."