For My Aching Soul

Chapter 1

Pink.

Oh how I now hated pink. A pigment that once colored my life and gave it meaning, now worked relentlessly at taking what little energy I had left.

Pink.

The color of the soft silky tutu vs the color of the night gown turn uniform of Burkley Manors.

Pink.

The color of those little sprinkles from the ice-cream shop just around the corner from the studio...now the color of the anti-depressants I'm forced to take twice a day. 6am...6pm...6am...6pm...

Dear Dad,

You haven't visited in almost 3 months since....
I can understand why. I guess I wouldn't visit my reputation-ruining daughter either. Fvck you for taking her from me. 

Love,
Nicole.

I bet you're wondering what the hell's going on. Well...if you were to really understand my story then I'd have to start at the very beginning.

June 17th 2016

The sun sat perched in the sky as I walked down Lakeshore to Stanley Studios. California was always hot this time of year but I loved it. I loved the warmth, it gave me an excuse to get ice-cream with the troupe at "Sherby's" after practice.

I pushed the two glass doors open to the reception lounge, the soft burgundy velvet carpet cradles my pointe shoe as I glide forward to the desk.

"Nicole, how is my little fairy?" asked Junie, her thin lips curling into a pleasant smile. Junie was the receptionist of Stanley Studios, the wife of Chris Stanley, the owner. She was an aged women whose red hair cascaded down her slim face from greying roots. I've known her my entire life. I've been dancing since the age of 6, Junie has called me her "fairy" ever since my first recital where I played the lead role of Tinker Bell.

"For the thousandth time Junie, I'm 16 whole years old now therefore I'm no longer your little fairy," I responded to her with a polite smile as I sign in.

"No matter how old you get, you'll always be my little fairy Nicole. I promised your mother I'd look-" I cut her off, hearing these words so many times since her death has stained my ears.

"Look out for me, yeah I know Junie," I didn't bother to look up at her. I gave her a curt nod before going up the stairs, located awkwardly to the left of Junie's small desk, to door number 6A. Behind it I would find the familiar ballet studio lined with ancient mirrors and rusting bars supported by peeling oak floors.

There were many other studios I could have gone to where everything didn't look so stuck in the 90's but this place had a special place in my heart.

I pushed the door that creaked out a welcome to be greeted by the other girls all about the same age as me stretching and making small chit-chat.

I took a deep breath and walked into the room, the door slowly closing itself behind me.

This was home, this was my only bind to her.