Honey Daisy ✭ KTH [м]

ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ

╰☆☆☆☆╮

"Again," your mother instructed, tapping a cane onto the tiled floor.

Sweat beaded your brow, wheezing while finding it difficult to catch your breath.

You had been at it for hours since the sun rose for the break of day. You gritted your teeth as your legs and feet ached, the shoes squeezing your arches through the blood.

Your stomach growled. Your mother made it a point to deter you from eating while practicing, claiming food would make you heavier and bloated when flying in the air.

You took too long to stand, and your mother banged her stick upon the wooden barre. You flinched, clawing your way up from the floor.

Though you were someone who desired independence, your mother made it difficult for you. She aspired you to be a ballerina as she had once been growing up.

After she broke her leg, never able to perform again, all of her dreams were shoved onto you. No matter how much you fought against her, she was the only one who could scar you deeply with her sharp tongue.

"Do you want to be a failure?" Your mother paced the dance room, eyeing you closely in the reflection of the mirror.

Your stray hairs from your bun stuck to your face, and your cheeks reddened when your body heat rose too great. You stumbled forward, catching yourself on the barre.

"Mama, can I please take a break? It's almost midnight, and I've been—"

She groaned, shaking her head with the bridge of her nose between her fingers. The cane winked at you in the dim lighting, one bulb in the far corner flickering from overuse.

It was the only thing that could make you wince to its will. When you were younger, you took a beating from the wooden end. When your father discovered the welts on your back, she found craftier ways to punish you.

Peering back at her in the reflection, the wrinkles around her mouth enhanced her scowl. Her once dewy, tight skin hung loosely from her face. The blonde hair she was admired for turned grey, opting for dye out of desperation to keep her youthful looks.

When she blinked, her dull blue eyes glared at you.

"You must earn breaks," she gruffly muttered, her tone frightening you.

Then, a knock sounded on the wooden door of the practice room. You gasped to yourself, too quiet for your mother to hear.

She opened the door with a groan, a fake smile plastered on her face. 

"Sorry, this room's occupied," she said, a cheery voice echoed through the halls that made you shiver.

"I reserved for this time slot," another voice replied, sterner than hers.