The Survivor

Chapter 4

Victoria

The spotlights were so bright in my face as I was dancing to the music that was provided. I could barely see the crowd in front of me as everything was a blur, but still I danced. I felt my toes aching in my ballet shoes. At any moment the scars from my previous wounds on my feet were going to burst and stain my ballet shoes with blood.

I hit every note as I was taught trying to perfect every move that I made.

I could barely see what was in front of me. I was just seeing blurs of light.

I try to keep the smile on my fave because that is what they taught us in the ballet academy, but it was so hard because I didn't feel like smiling. I didn't feel like dancing. I didn't want to dance.

I had to dance though. I had to make everyone proud.

I stuck my last pose as the music ended and I started to hear everyone's applause. I kept the smile on my face taking a bow as people threw flowers on the stage.

I walked off the stage finally able to frown again. Smiling too much just hurt my face. I didn't like it. It was too much effort on my part.

I stood on the side of the stage watching all the other girls do their routines. They were so flawless and I really wasn't. They were more passionate about ballet than I was. I was just doing it to please my family.

My feet ached and I just wanted to sit down and rest them.

You would think that the more I danced that I would get use to the pain, but I don't. For me the pain gets worse every time I dance and it doesn't seem to go away. It just gets worse.

When the recital was over we did our final curtain call and I saw my parents come up to me with flowers in their hand.

My mother smiled at me and gave me a kiss on my forehead.

"Honey that was beautiful. You are really coming along," she said to me.

"Do you really think so?" my 8 year old self said.

"Of course honey," she smiled at me "oh look there is Mrs. Judy I should go congratulate her on a great show!"

I watched my mother walked over to my ballet teacher and then I turned towards my father who gave me a sad smile.

"Are you okay my child?" he asked me.

"I hate ballet," I didn't hesitate to say.

He nodded his head smiling a bit, "I can tell."

I looked at him confused, "you can tell?"

"Of course," he said to me "you are child and more like me than your mother. I can tell when you don't like something."

I stayed quiet. I didn't really know what to say to that.

"Why don't you quit if you hate it so much?" he asked me.

I looked at him deep in the eyes, "because you taught me to never give up. No matter the circumstances."

He smiled, "good answer."

I opened my eyes at the memory and the room was still pitched black in the room. I took a deep breath and put my hand on my cheek, wiping away the tear that fell out of my eye.

As much as I loved dreaming about my father, I hated it as well. It just makes me more sad at the fact that he should be here. None of this should be happening.