Graceful Scars by Savannah Stewart

Author:Savannah Stewart [Stewart, Savannah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Savannah Stewart
Published: 2015-03-07T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

The studio’s lights slowly came to life as I locked the door I had just come in. It was barely after nine in the morning but I felt the need to get some frustration out. Zoey had refused to come back out of her room when Talon and I had sat down to watch TV. It was the first time ever; it was also the first time I had gone home instead of crashing at their place in a long time. Sleep took forever to find me, and when it did it was packed full of nightmares: everything from me being chased by a dark figure to Zoey helping the homeless man and being harmed in the process. Around five o’clock in the morning I had given up completely on trying to get a good night’s sleep. After showering and attempting to read through some of my finance stuff for taxes, I decided I needed some alone time in the studio.

I dropped my purse and cell phone in my office and headed across the room to the radio. I plugged my iPod in and searched for my dance playlist. The first couple songs were to warm up to, nothing too dramatic. I didn’t bother pulling out a mat for stretching; instead I sat on the cold wood floor and began to loosen up my muscles. My attire was reflecting how I felt…gloomy; black leggings with a black cross-back tank top, and black dance shoes, not ballet ones. When my muscles felt loose and alive I pushed myself up from the floor. It was almost perfect timing as the song Fire Meet Gasoline by Sia filled the room. I closed my eyes and took a steady breath; my body began to move to the beat of the song. Dancing soothed my soul; it was like an out of body experience that helped me to close out the world…well¸ until that night. Ever since I had been fighting my way back to that point, to where I could feel alive, feel free, and feel whole again.

Perspiration was slowly taking over my skin as I pushed myself harder and harder. The pull of my muscles as I stretched up towards the ceiling felt refreshing; this piece was turning into more of a hip hop style routine, something I rarely did. I was a ballet girl, even though I loved all forms of dancing; ballet was what made me feel safe. But safe wasn’t a word that held much strength in my vocabulary any more. As the song came to a close I opened my eyes and found my reflection staring back at me in the large mirrors on the back wall of the deserted room. My chest was heaving from exertion and my skin was shimmering from the layer of sweat that covered me. The fly-aways of my hair were plastered against my forehead and neck. I looked even more exhausted than I felt. My eyes were dim where they used to shine; my hair seemed a dull blonde instead of the shiny tone it used to have.

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