Perform H.S

Tracy was a dancer. Hated by those at the reach of a hand and loved by those miles away. She was broken but not defeated, lost but not forsaken for the sole reason of hope. She had hope someone would come pull her out of the mess the people who were supposed to love her left in her wake. But it was quickly withering away.

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"Performer 167, please make your way to the stage."

A lump formed in my throat and the anxiety I felt craved a release. My eyes stayed glued to his emerald green ones, the ones that always seemed to bring peace in the midst of a storm.

"Perform for me angel," the words effortlessly slipped from his lips.

And I did.

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