Dance Without You.

Prologue

I still can’t believe that she is gone.  She was my rock; I don’t know what I am going to do without her. 

Every day, I still wonder why it wasn’t me.  It should have been me.  Compared to her, I am nothing – I am no one.  She was everything – to everyone – not just to me.  She…was the prima-ballerina.  She was beautiful.  The way she danced…it was captivating.  No one could ever peel their eyes away whenever she graced the dance floor – and that’s the way it was always meant to be; the way it should have been long past her time. 

I always imagined her as an old lady, still at Pierce.  She would barely be able to walk herself across the room, but she would always be able to dance. - perfecting the moves of all of those inferior dancers that could only wish to leave a tiny portion of the legacy that she had there.   They would talk about her behind her back, calling her a has been.  But, the truth of the matter is that they would be jealous – jealous of the mark that she would leave on Pierce Dance Company and on the art of dance itself.  They would know that irreplaceable throne that she beheld and would continue to hold long past her death – a death that would come after she had lived a full and healthy life.

My sister was named appropriately – Angela – Angel.  She was an angel – my angel.   People don’t understand that she’s been my whole life for my entire life.  Everyone compares me to her, but everyone should.  She raised me.  She trained me.  She was the only person in the world who ever cared about me – really cared.  No matter what I did, she still supported me.  No matter what anyone else said, she always encouraged me.  She wanted me to be the best that I could be and she wanted me to accomplish all of my dreams.  It didn’t matter what I did, but lucky for her, I had the same dreams that she did.  Only, I knew that I would never be as good as she was because no one could be.

Now, because her precious life was ended far too soon, they expect me to replace her.  Because I am of the same blood, I must follow her exact footsteps and pick up where she left off.   That is what they believe anyway – the people in our company.   They believe that I am going to try and take her place, but what they don’t understand is… I am inferior.  We were all inferior beings – inferior dancers – in her presence and even with only her memory surrounding us, we are still inferior.   They say that the show must go on, but I say the show should end here, with her.  It’s only appropriate – to honor her.

People are talking about me.  Not because I am the little sister of Angela Murry – the infamous dancer who killed herself slowly with eating disorders and laxatives; the beautiful dancer whose life was ended far too soon and by, what some would consider to be, her own hand.  They whisper as I walk into a room because I am the new star – and I am the one that they would like to see fail, even though they have had it cemented into their brain that I can do this in my life.   It’s not their place to challenge what Malcolm has to say.  In our world, his words are golden and to go against what he says is career suicide in the world of dance.

That’s why I am doing this.  Because I can only imagine the scolding that Angela would give me if I dared to refuse.   She would have me doing pirouettes until my toes bleed – pacing back and forth in front of me with her hand on her hip, never missing a step that I took the entire time.  But that’s how my Angel was.

To my sister, a ballet life was like a military life.  It never mattered how tired you were or how much your feet bleed, you never stopped until you got the job done.   Until every step was perfect and doing it in your sleep was the only rest that you got.  The only real difference is that ballet is more cut throat.  If someone falls, you don’t go back to catch them, you just take their place.   Every dancer is replaceable.   Except for Angela – I just wish someone would open their eyes and see that.

But they were glad to have her gone…

That is…until my talent was “found.”