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Chapter Two✔

Aubrey

Aubrey gasped awake, clutching her chest as she sat up, heart pounding. Around her, the empty room was still dark in the early morning light. She threw her legs over the side of her bed, her feet touching the wood floor as she tried to calm herself from the nightmare she started to relive in her dreams.

There was no way she was getting back to sleep, so she headed over to her still unpacked backpack, pulling out her running shoes. She didn't bother changing. After retiring to her room she had changed into shorts and her sports bra and a t-shirt before passing out on a slightly creaky bed. Though she had to admit, the blankets were total bliss.

She grabbed her phone, plugging her headphones in, and flipping on her music before heading towards the door of her room. She paused in front of the mirror, eyeing the long jagged scar that went from the back of her left calve to her knee cap. She slowly lifted her shirt and traced the matching scar on her stomach, the one that started on her left side below her ribs and curved around and ended under her right breast. It gleamed angry and red in the dim light. Two years and it was never going to go away, it was never going to seem less angry.

She shook her head, wiping away the distant memory of screeching tires and shattering glass. Instead, she released her shirt and it slid down her taut stomach. Aubrey quickly tied her hair up atop her head and made her way down the stairs. The house was quiet and dark, the other occupant still fasts asleep in her room.

So, Aubrey headed out the door, leaving it unlocked behind her, but still making sure to wipe her keys. You could trust people in Morganton. Everyone knew everyone and no one stole. It was a small town, and that was one of the only pros to small-town life, you were living in a 60's family comedy. Cue the laugh track and cheesy jokes, Andy Griffith style.

While the sky was overcast, which was incredibly normal, no rain had started to fall yet, so Aubrey bounded down the stairs, and began her morning run.

While her physical activity of choice was and would always be dance, running was a close second. She loved the rhythmic feeling, and the total ease she felt getting lost in just focusing on one foot after another. Even when we're calves burned and her lungs ached, she still felt at ease.

Before she knew it, she was on the one road that consisted of the small Morganton businesses. There was a bakery, mechanic shop, a grocery, a gas station, a boutique, a bar, and a small abandoned studio. Aubrey hadn't even realized she was heading towards the studio until she was standing outside of it, coated in a thick layer of sweat, drenching her shirt.

'Naylea Dance Studio' the large, proud, and decaying sign above the building's entrance declared, and Aubrey stood outside the dark tinted windows with her hands on her hips as she panted. Slowly, she pulled out her keys, fumbling around for the old copper-colored key Bea had sent her when she had agreed to the obscene idea. Like it was the glue that held the whole thing together. A no-take-backsies.

Aubrey went to unlock the door, but when she pushed on it, it pushed open. With furrowed eyebrows in confusion, she made her way inside and heard the radio blaring 80's rock over her music as the door swung shut behind her. Slowly Aubrey tugged the headphones out of her ears and spun them around her phone before tucking the phone back in the waistband of her bottoms. Tools and lumber laid around, and Aubrey briefly remembered Bea emailing her the day construction would start.

"Hello?" She called out, walking farther into the entrance. As she rounded the receptionist desk, towards the long hallway leading to the dance rooms, the music became louder. She peeked into the first room, on the right, and frowned at the shattered mirrors and warped floors. The old-style wallpaper was peeling off, and she could only begin to imagine the bugs living in the building.