The Ballerina & The Devil

Thirty Six. In The Hands of a Devil

A/N: The song in the mediabox is Thinking Out Loud by my bae Ed Sheeran, and the gif is of my other two baes Harry & Hermione xx

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My feet were moving, no...gliding.

Gliding so fast across the wooden floor it felt like at any moment I would take flight. With every launch, every step, and every twirl I took my heart rate accelerated. It took me higher than any of the leaps I was performing, but I didn't stop.

I couldn't.

The classical music was on a continuous loop, and so was I. The dance had to be perfect. Anything less couldn't be accepted. Anything more would be welcomed.

I practiced the dance I would be performing for the Juilliard judges in just a few short weeks until I had no more breath to practice with. I had pushed myself harder than I should have, and I was grateful I was at my abandoned studio and not Michelle's.

Michelle would've strangled me if I tried to do too much. Scratch that, she wouldn't have let me dance to the point where she'd have to strangle me. Don't get me wrong, she was all for her dancers pushing themselves beyond their comfort zones, but I was pretty sure she'd have a lot to say about the amount of strenuous hours I put in.

With a soft groan I padded over to the iPod I had set up in its usual spot and hit pause. I collapsed and stretched out on the floor ignoring the fact that it was beyond dirty. My eyes shut and my breaths came out in shallow gasps.

My legs felt like they were on fire, and I was fairly sure I was two short seconds away from dying of a lack of air supply, but I was somewhat satisfied.

My attention had been diverting from my dance for quite some time now. I, of course, would put in my hours of practice during the week, but it really wasn't anything compared to the work I was used to putting in. I found that I was spending more time worrying about boys, and less time worrying about ballet.

It was practically a sin in the name of the Lord.

Ballet first. Boys second. Always.

I allowed my eyes to flutter shut, and focused on the beats of my heart, counting each thump that sounded in my ears. The exercise helped to momentarily take my mind away from the wondering thoughts that had been swirling around my head for the past two days. Kenzie and Deacon's advice being the center of it all.

They both shared very good points. My behavior when it came to the opposite sex was questionable, if not completely insane. As hard as it was to admit, I did tend to lose myself when it came to my many boyfriends. The want- no, the need to have somebody love me the way I loved them drove me to do things that any normal person that harbored even the smallest shred of self-respect and dignity wouldn't do. It was something I knew had to change, but it was easier said than done.

It wasn't something I could exactly help. The best way to describe it would be an out of body experience. I couldn't help but want to please whatever guy I had my eyes on in anyway I could. I not only yearned for the feeling of being loved, but the feeling of being enough. There was nothing more in this world that I wanted than that. I wanted it more than I wanted to breathe, to dance even.

And when I couldn't find it in the guy I was with, I started the hunt for the next one.

It was a pattern I couldn't stop repeating, and a cycle I wasn't able to break. I needed somebody to tell me I was enough. I needed, not so much the words, but the actions. The subtle hints that would make me feel good about myself.