Playing With Fire

Pas De Deux With Death

"Why do you care?" I slurred, arching an eyebrow.

"You're not the only one who has a life here, Delia, but maybe getting to start over would be a good thing. And we actually get a chance to have a grandfather," Carver said, stopping me as I reached for another martini.

"I can't just give it up. If Charlotte doesn't let me stay in New York to continue my training, I'm going to have to file for emancipation," I leaned against Carver for support. "But I have missed you," I added, smiling up at him.

Carver laughed. "We did use to be the dynamic duo. Oh, how the nannies would tremble in fear," he said, leading me up the stairs.

"They used to call us the Hell twins when they thought we weren't listening" I smiled fondly at the memory. "Where are we going," I asked him.

"You need to get some sleep," Carver said. "I'm going to let you go, and you are going to get ready for bed, and I'm going to get you some water and some aspirin."

"Yes, sir," I giggled, giving him a fake salute before wandering into my bedroom as Carver headed back downstairs.

I closed the doors and took in the soft pink walls of my childhood bedroom. I flopped down on the massive white bed before pulling out an old t-shirt and pajama shorts and shuffled into my bathroom to wipe off my makeup and brush my teeth. As I walked back into my room, I saw that Carver had placed two glasses of water and a bottle of aspirin on my bedside table.

"You're going to drink one glass now and one glass when you wake up tomorrow along with an aspirin," He said sternly.

I nodded. "Thanks, bro. Bro, I haven't said that in a while. Oh, could you drive me to the studio tomorrow at six so that I don't fall behind?"

Carver sighed. "Isn't that kind of early?" He said, running a hand through his hair.

"Ballet doesn't sleep," I slurred, looking blearily up at him.

"Yes, but you do," Carver pushed me gently into bed. "And I'll take you tomorrow, but only because it's right next to the gym."

"You're the best," I said, sinking into the pillows and sleep.

The shudders banged open, startling me awake. I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself in an attempt to warm myself. I tentatively stepped out of bed to close the window. On our front lawn, I saw four hooded men standing in a circle around a fire. I gazed at them, trying to get a closer look. I could make out two of the faces beneath their hoods. 

It was the Prince and the Sorcerer from my last dream. Then shocked, one of the other men turned his head towards the window. I saw the familiar face of my twin looking back at me, the firelight distorting his features to look demonic. He raised a hand toward me, and I sprinted away from the window. Before I could make it out of the room, flames blocked my path, scorching my skin. I ran back to the window and tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge. I pounded on the glass, trying to break it, screaming at Carver to help me, but no help came. The men ignored my screaming and the now burning house and turned their attention back to the fire in front of them. I stepped back, avoiding the encroaching flames, and sprinted towards the window. 

This time I broke through feeling a thousand cuts on my skin from the glass. And then I was falling with no end in sight and the flames still coming for me. Just as they started to lick my skin, I woke up.

I sat up, drenched in sweat, to the frantic beeping of my alarm. I groaned, pulling back my hair and rolled out of bed, shoving my pointe shoes, leg warmers, and a tutu into an old gym bag before slipping into a leotard, tights, an old t-shirt, and sweats before heading downstairs.