Magnolia in May [H.S]

Part thirty-three

^^^

Megs dress.

Magnolia

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"Yes. In and out, go. Loosen up your shoulders, point your toes." My coach commends, barking orders at me.

"Half rotation, yes! You've got it." I smile at my progress, finishing out the sequence with a jump. He claps with a quick applaud, the music fades in the background. "Now look at that! My little girl is gonna be a gold medalist one day!" He praises with light in his eyes. A rare occurrence that had me on my toes. Was he taunting me or did he actually think I did good?

A good memory, but being happy and gentle never lasted. No. Not with my father. He made damn sure I was teetering on the edge of a breakdown.

"Please!" I pleaded with my whole chest, begging. "But it's dark outside and I'm tired, I haven't slept. Dad please." My voice cracks, echoing in the tepid air. "No Louisa! Again!" He shouts from the other side of the glass. Pounding his fists on the surface.

"But my knee! It's bleeding through my tights!" My body goes dizzy with fear, the pain coursing without it was a deadly mix. Adrenaline drained from my body. "I. Said. Again." He scolded in the most terrifying voice ever, instantly sending frenzied chills up my burning limbs.

I burst out into tears, falling to my shins with the amount of pure agony spreading through my body as a whole. The entirety, bruised from the excessive skating, knees gushing blood from when my legs gave out. What did I do to deserve this? Am I not good enough?

Fury overcomes his eyes, they go black, rage now forefront. I scurry to start the routine again, scared of what might happen if I don't. But it's no use, he doesn't care about that anymore. Now I regret not keeping my mouth shut, not just pushing down my aching limbs and finishing the jump.

He stops over to me, disregarding the fact he was on the ice. In this moment it didn't cross his mind, like he was some programmed robot, like a switch had flipped in his head. "You know how I feel about crying Louisa! Winners don't cry! So is that what you are? A loser?" He yanks me from the ice, dragging me by my arm. I'm sure it's gonna be bruised as well, a dark purple hand imprint.

"No." I say, but my voice has been overcome with brokenness. I'm defeated and there's no use in trying to fight back.

My flight or fight response kicks in, and though I don't have the energy to fight I run with what's left of my adrenaline. "You're not finished you little shit!"

Legs pumping from under me, I didn't even care if my blades would get ruined from the tiles. I jump when an object comes hurling at me head, just barely hitting me. Pain fuels the area it nicked, a deep red wound on the side of my shoulder. Tore through my leotard, leaving a frightening mark. A skate, he threw a skate at my head.