The sunrise gleamed through the large windows as Katya did her morning stretching in the studio at her house. She always loved how open the studio space looked, even tho she hadn't had the chance to truly enjoy it for the past two years.
She still entered the studio every morning to stretch and do some basic technique, but after only twenty minutes her knee would start to hurt. Sometimes it was just sore, other days it felt like someone stabbing her knee over and over again. The most painful part of it however was that it was a constant reminder of the life she had been forced to give up.
Her career, everything she loved, it was all gone in the span of a few minutes.
Katya had gotten everything she had ever wanted, a big house with a private dance studio, a large income, a stable job as a principal dancer and soloist jobs all over the world. For a while she had thought her life to be perfect, but then it had all been ripped away from her. Years of training completely wasted. Now here she was, bitter, alone, hurt, and unable to fully enjoy the art that she had dedicated her life to.
The blue eyed girl's entire childhood in Russia had been spent on training. From the age of two Katya's parents had sent her to ballet classes. By the age of ten she had started to win competitions and perform soloist roles.
She had the perfect build for ballet, and a natural talent that was unprecedented. This also made tons of people, especially her parents, plan out her life for her before she even had a say in it. At one point the pressure had almost become to much for her.
She'd gotten an apprenticeship with the Bolshoi Ballet, her mother's dream, and then she started to find it all to be suffocating.
There was no time for friends, or parties, or well... a life.
It also happened to be the same time as she had realized her sexuality, and the fact that it very much went against what her parents had planned for.
So Katya auditioned for the American Ballet Theatre instead, and due to her wonderful reputation, she was accepted as an apprentice. It gave her the chance to explore who she was without her parents hanging over her shoulder.
Her love for the art rejuvenated and after a couple years she'd become a principal dancer at the Boston Ballet, deciding that the city fit her better than the business of New York, although she still had jobs all over the country and internationally.
And what had it all been for?
She was twenty-seven, living alone, and her career was over. She'd never even had a stable relationship.
Flings? Sure.
Hookups? Definitely.
But a relationship? Never.
She felt destined to be alone, but she was also terrified to try dating. And what woman in this world would like an injured ballerina with a ruined career? Who'd want someone so pathetic? She had money of course, but money buys hookers, not happiness.
Just as Katya finished her stretches and was ready to take a smoke break, a habit she'd picked up in her youth for stress release, the doorbell rang.
Who the hell was at her door?
No one ever came to her house. Actually, she barely saw anyone ever, mostly spending her days locked up in her house, mulling over what might have been.
Katya opened her door only to find a young girl. The blue eyed woman almost couldn't believe the girl in front of her was real as she looked like the very embodiment of a Barbie doll. Long blonde hair which fell in luscious waves, an hourglass figure that any pin-up model from the 50s would kill for, and deep honey brown eyes that Katya imagined would turn completely black when the girl was turned on.
"Hi.. ehm.. are you... I mean, you are.. I.. You're Katya Zamolodchikova, right?" The girl stuttered nervously. Katya couldn't help but smile at how cute it was, especially in combination with the girl's soft blush.
"Well, yes. I am. Who are you?" Katya replied. The girl breathed heavily, shaking her hands in the air a couple times to relax before lifting her head, a bright showtime-smile on her pink lips.
"Hi, I'm Trixie Mattel. I need you to train me."
YOU ARE READING
Pain Is Beauty ✔~ trixya
Fanfiction"You want to be ballet dancer? Get used to psychological terror." Trixie Mattel had been at the academy since the age of eleven. But by the age of sixteen every teacher who had ever believed in her had told her she should quit. She didn't have the...
