Reckless Thief (82 Street Vandals) by Heather Long

Author:Heather Long [Long, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-04-10T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 22

EMERSYN

The music began slowly, each note unfolding as “I Tried” came through the speakers. I stretched upward to the melancholy notes. Every movement was exaggerated and held for an extra beat. The slowness encouraged deeper extensions. The slow tempo let me flow from one position to another as the music transitioned to Thomas Day’s “Not My Job Anymore.”

Muscle memory took over. While I might not train quite as grueling as I once had, I needed this. I needed to empty the fear and the worry. I needed to let the grief, and the anger, choking all of us, go. Even if it was just for a little while.

I couldn’t forget what had happened. No one could. I used to lie to myself that it didn’t matter. After burying it all as deep as I could, the poison still spilled into my dreams, my soul, and my life. Pouring myself into the music, I submerged and surrendered to it. Every step lifted me, allowed me to shoulder those burdens, then slipped free of them.

From “You Put a Spell on Me” by Austin Giorgio to “Unholy” by Sam Smith, I graduated through the balladic lyrics. The playlist increased in speed and tempo until I was up on my toes, alignment perfectly placed, and then I made the leap. The silks were right there, and I had not flown since Rome and Liam took me to the fairgrounds.

Sharper motions were demanded as I climbed the silks, rolling and wrapping. I dropped when the notes fell and let go as I flew. It was like coming to life as the world melted away. All that existed was me, the music, and the silks.

Every stretch took me higher. Every twist added another layer to the dance in the air. The ballads grew fiercer. The loneliness circling around me shattered, releasing the vise around my chest.

Guitars and drums kicked in as I twisted and flowed. Every snap of the silks sharp and every drop sent my pulse soaring as I rocked out. There was something hilarious about matching the kicks and leaps on the ground to dancing in the air.

Controlled motion.

Miming surface.

Rolling up and the spins to drop.

The first time I’d taken to an aerial ring flashed through my mind. The absolute elation. The magic that always accompanied flying. Even as my arms and back muscles burned, I reveled in the fire. Soaked with sweat, I slowed the speed of transitions even as I craved the discomfort.

Coldplay segued to Queen, then back to a classical piece, and so on. Every single song meant to wring every drop of emotion out of me until I was bare. The fire consumed me, burning away the excess, leaving only me behind.

When the final song ended, I hung, curled into a perfect hip lock split knee drop.

The silence seemed even more profound as the present rushed in. Every muscle trembled, and sweat dripped off me toward the floor. I didn’t have to look up to know someone had arrived. The difference in the air had been there, yet I hadn’t emerged from the zone until now.

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