The Glass Ballerina Who Dance...

By everystarandthemoon

26.7K 632 602

"Which one is she?" I ask as Trinity leaps gracefully through the air, ornamental knives strapped to her feet... More

The Inheritance Games
An Unexpected Trip
The Will Reading
This is not real
You own this...and that too
Hitman
Pain in the ass
Scones
It was Jameson Hawthorne with the candlestick in the bedroom
The girl that died
I see things that nobody else sees
Outfits!
Trinity's wing
Drunk
The tears you can't see
Worth it
A way - and a will
Lies
Karaoke
NEW CHARACTER ALERT!!!!!
Confidential
Questions...No Answers
The Answers (sort of)
Birthday special!
A Little Vacation
Not who you think I am
Peppermint
Shatter the world
Gutter
Not like that
ONESHOT FT. Paris (collab with Rattywriter)
Aerodynamics
Infinity, Winchester?
Bullet
Deal With Rebecca
A Very Hawthorne Christmas (one shot)
Getaway car
Two hours late for a facial
No friend of mine
Look up
Just one more game
Penance
Checkmate
Do what I'm told
Caught
Seeking Vengeance
A/N
The Hawthorne Legacy
Go Lone Stars
Say died
False Hope
Untouchable
Sledge hammer
Curiosity Killed Us All
I can explain, I swear!

Lost

241 10 7
By everystarandthemoon

Wish I knew better then/Who knew you were just out to get me?/My whole world just fell apart/'Cause I never felt so alone, felt so alone, na-na/I could never be more alone than when I ain't got you here

Never Felt so Alone, Labyrinth

The ride home is near silence. "I'm sorry I forced all of my emotional baggage on you.

"It's fine." Iqra suddenly looks very exhausted. "I understand how that pressure is."

"The pressure that turns you into diamonds?" Adrina pokes her head through the seats.

Iqra closes her eyes. "Sure. Just remember, you'll always be someone."

Her weary voice runs through my head even after I drop her and Adrina off. After entering the security code to not alert anyone, I put my car into low gear and slowed to practically crawl up the winding roads.

"Oh damn."

A familiar silhouette stands in my car's spot.

"Been going somewhere, lil sis?"

Ugh.

"Do you have a sixth sense or are you just a stalker?"

"Breath into this." Nash holds out a little strip of paper.

"Is this a disposable breathalyzer?"

"Gotta make sure you weren't drunk driving."

"Whatever. It's my car anyways."

He cocks an eyebrow, the classic big brother facial expression.

"What were you doing up so late?"

"Just," I exhale. "Letting off some steam."

"With 'Drina and Iqra?" His thick accent makes the cool tones of my friends' names sound odd, slightly off.

I gape at him.

"Still a Hawthorne." He makes a face that would be better suited to the parent of a toddler playing hide and seek.

"Still not my dad, no matter how much you think you are. Eight years don't make as much of a difference as you'd like to pretend."

"I'm worried for you, kid. You haven't been yourself since the old man passed."

"Died," I whisper to myself.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing," I mumble.

"Y'know, I'm not as thick as everyone likes to think. Something's up. Care to share?"

"Yeah, I do care. I'm not going to spill my guts to someone who might not be here next month."

"Do you... wanna talk about that?"

"No, I really don't. I've already had two too many heart-to-heart talks for one day, and too many feelings to sort out logically through another talk with my nomadic brother who has commitment issues!"

Nash draws his hand back like he's been burned. "Now, now, let's take a step back."

I take a deep breath and all of my willpower to not tackle him to the ground. "Taking a step back." I weave my sneakers backwards. "'Night, Nash." I can hear the resentment in my voice that makes me feel like a horrible sister.

I stare up at my towering ceiling. I need to stop being up at night with just my thoughts. It hasn't really turned out too well for me lately.

The next morning is Sunday, something that gives me physical pain to trudge through. I feel empty and hollow, which is a bad combination. Restraining myself from making any impulsive decisions, I decide to dance, practising my routine for the upcoming performance. After wiggling into a leopard and tying my hair up, I make my way to the dance studio, warming up on the barre. Once my muscles have been pulled in every direction possible and my feet are warm in my shoes I tie on my pointe shoes and press play on the sample of music my dance teacher chose for me.

Up, down, pirouette

Who am I?

Jeté, pas de bourrée

A dancer, a fencer, a harpist, a model?

Susu, borree, borre.

Granddad always told me I was special, incredible. But, beyond that, what am I?

Full promenade

Then it hits me. I'm lost. I'm lost.

Born to be great, to be something. And I'm... not.

How am I supposed to do this?

A.N.: This chapter is very short, but I feel that its more powerful like this. Love you!

<333!

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