My Regreats

Chapter 5

I was nearly 5 blocks away from my moms pick up truck when I stopped to catch my breath. Panting heavily, I looked down at my torn up sandals. They were the sandals my dad had gotten me for my 8th birthday. Quickly, I ripped them off, and threw them as far away from me as possible.

Wiggling my toes, I felt the warm cement burning my feet. I also felt rocks digging into my flesh, but I didn't care. No amount of pain could equal the aching in my chest. Then, I began run. Faster than I ever could, I ran. Time was lost, and when I stopped, I felt a little better. I looked around, hoping to find a place with a drinking fountain.

Looking up, I saw a dance studio right in front of me. It was called 'Passion Studio'. Curiosity got the best of me, so I walked up to the door. It was unlocked and I walked in. All of the lights were off, and nobody was there. I saw some doors at the end of the hallway. Careful to not make any noises, I tip-toed to the end of the hallway.

As I pushed the wooden doors open, a small whisper of a creak came out of the door. I shoved the door open and let out a small gasp. The room was simple, yet I could almost feel it calling me.

There where mirrors covering all of the walls. Ballet bars were on the wall, and gorgeous plastic chandeliers were hanging on the wall. There was something about the simplicity of the room that made it beautiful. Slowly, I crept onto the dance floor.

I once took ballet lessons when I was 3, but I guess that didn't make me a professional dancer. Still, I began to spin, twirl, and jump as if I had been dancing all my life. Although, I'm sure I looked like I was having a seizure.

Despite all that had happened in the past hour, I became carefree in those simple minutes. My mind was lost in the silent music. With all that happened, I was happy that moment.

Then, I heard someone clear their throat. I froze in my steps, and turned my head toward the door. Leaning against the wall was a tall, lean lady. She was pretty, and looked like she was in her early 20's. She had a sly, understanding smile. When she stood up, I could, immediately, tell that she was a dancer. She stood, gracefully, and practicaly glided towards me.

"How about we sit down and talk. I would like to know why and how you got into my studio."

That is when my tears came, and I spilled.