And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?
"Fix you" by; Coldplay
It is a typical mid august morning here in the sunshine state, but in my corner of the world, in my little place of refuge the sun is still asleep. The air is cold, droplets of frozen moisture hover low to the ice, cloud like. My cheeks prickle with every tiny frosty kiss as I move forward across the smooth morning ice. It groans in appreciation as my skillful blades glide along in deep flowing edges eliciting more of the deep guttural sound that so much reminds one of a lover's moan, I love that sound. My movements are pure muscle memory, my body enjoying the peacefulness that's cloaking over me protecting me from the world outside, but most importantly from myself, from my personal demons. This is my moment, my time, the only time during the day I feel complete and my mind is truly at peace. This is my sanctuary.
In the next hour the other sleepy skaters will be dragged in here by their starry eyed mothers and my peaceful fog will dissipate with the erratic movements of their little bodies. Their incessant and mindless chatter invading the quiet stillness of my mind. They'll overrun my safe haven, scribbling through my beautiful scrollwork that I have spent hours etching out in the virgin morning ice. I usually leave when the others arrive, and for that reason I have the reputation of being the ice queen, which is fine by me if that's what it takes for them to keep their distance. I have no time to play with these kids who will never truly love this place as I do. This is my home. And I am no child, not like them. Besides I wouldn't even know how to begin socializing with my own age let alone make friends with them, no it's better this way. My parents kept me isolated for so long with only the company of adults, that I have nothing in common with them anyway. So no, I am no child, not now, not ever. I would mourn the loss but one can not mourn what one never had to begin with.
I hated crowds and being around so many people was mentally exhausting, no one understands the effort it takes for me on a daily basis to be their 'normal'. That is my biggest performance, the only time I really even get butterflies. Throw the stage lights on and darken the theater and let me loose, for I am fierce, when I control the audience, the crowd.
I slow my breathing and enjoy every bit of cold air that fills my lungs as I stretch out my long edge performing a single stretch and holding onto the edge and speed for as long as the ice will allow me. Building my speed up once again I step onto my left skate stretching out into a perfect spiral, a standing split, my right toe pointing perfectly to the collapsing ceiling that's pock marked from the hockey player's pucks. Completely stretched out like this I can lean deeper on the outer edge of my blades and caress the ice with my left hand. It's my morning routine, showing my appreciation for not only the ability for my body to move so languidly but to the ice for allowing me to do so. My first and last love, the ice will never abandon me. It may bring me pain but it is a pain I welcome with open arms, as in my audience, the pain from the ice I control. This is the most control I feel I have in my life.
Somewhere in the distance a door slams interrupting my peace a little too soon. Squinting in the direction of the sound I see a large figure emerging from the fog moving closer to me, his Timberland boots crunching across my ice. I grit my teeth ready to launch into one of my infamous tirades at the intruder. That's when the shape of a perfect muscular body begins to materialize through the dense fog. He's well over six feet tall, wide as a door thus very intimidating, he dominates over all the other players, this is one of the reasons he is captain of our hockey team. He doesn't intimidate me though. I haven't seen him in months, not since I last walked away from him. It wasn't that I didn't love him but I was scared and I wanted to prove to myself, for some sadistic reason, that I could do the leaving this time. Although it could have all just been the result of one of my self-destructive mood swings. Things were going too perfectly so of course I had to destroy it before I could get hurt. Again it's about control. Sick I know but I really can't help it.
YOU ARE READING
Bright lights, sequins and showbiz drama all make for a great story but Claire's story isn't your typical happy little girl story grows up and falls in love story, she has dark secrets that haunt her day and night. Between social isolation and unsta...