Former Ballerina, Grace Marlyn lives in between two worlds- A full time waiters and an occasional hustler in upstate Manhattan.
Grace have her life planned until one wedding heist that would brings both of her worlds collapsed when she trapped one...
My heartbeat paced along with the throbbing pain on the back of my head, I shook my head no before realization came rushing into me all once- I couldn't recalled anything before the accident. " I'm sorry, I know it's hard, but right now I need you to tell me how much you remember to determine your condition more further," She said after looking down on my medical cart, " No, I'm sorry," I said it in whisper, the truth was I'm still scared if I said things out loud it'd made it real," Did... did I hurt anyone?" I looked over Dr Palmer, feeling more distraught because I couldn't recalled anything about the accident except the flashed memories to when my car went off road.
" You were alone, both the police and the EM have confirmed what happened," Palmer looked at me as she tried to reassured me more," No, I'm sorry I-" I shifted on the bed as I looked away, tears started to welling up under my eyes before Palmer reached my hand without the IV," Grace, there is one more thing I have to tell you," She said softly, I shut my eyes closed before I turned my head to looked at her," Your accident have caused several fractured on your hips, of course with multiple physical therapy you will soon be able to walk again, but I'm sorry with your condition it's not medically recommended for you to do more ballet," She held out the medical chart to me as she explained," The police found your ballet shoes in the trunk and this," She moved on her seat and stood up by the small table next to the IV pole before she handed a gold piece of jewelry, " Beautiful necklace,"
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I'm waking up from a dream- nightmares, as a brewing pot making loud noises from the kitchen, it's the same old memories which I've been trying to forget but nothing come close to it. I've never tell anyone about the first memories I had after my accident, the familiar distraught feelings as I woke up from my coma that day- it's been years since then and all my flesh wounds are now nothing but the constant reminder of what I've lost that night.
The room is spinning when I open my eyes completely and my stomach plummeting before reality smashes down on me from the ceilings above with everything all in once, flashes of last night rushing back to mind, the fire, the alcohol, the set of hands carrying me up the stairs- James. Shit I mutter to no one but myself as I get up and sit down by the side of my bed before I look down and see the small bandage over my knees, and my left palm, it takes me a good ten seconds before I realized that I'm wearing my old flannels over the dress from last night, shit- I close my eyes over my forearm as I let out a rush of breath.
Of course my first reaction is to blame Pietro's vodka flask that he left inside the middle compartment of his Aston Martin, but then a hollowness in my stomach reminds me to what I should really blame on to, myself- I let out a sigh of breath, and sit up right before triggering any immediate tears if I think of last night again.
There's a throbbing pain in the back of my head and two aspirin sitting neatly over my bedside table with a glass of water just a second before realization hit me in the face, there's clearly someone in my kitchen. " Fuck," I curse under my breath as I stand up from my bed, I try to ignore the headache as I snatch on the aspirin and take the drink quickly before I walk out the bed, stopping shortly when I notice the bandage under my left palm just before I reach the door handle.
