❝𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡
𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐝𝐞❞
↳ james camden was cursed with a fate equal to death. battered and bruised, with one foot already in the grave, she was nothing but persistent.
...but death was a...
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'Let sleeping dogs lie.' This is what her mother had always told James when she was still alive. Back when she'd hold her pressed against her chest, playing with her soft locks and told her she could leave that curse behind her if she did just that.
Ignore how much power their fate held over them.
This was something that James was extraordinarily bad at, though. Not just as a kid, but as a grown adult, too. Which was too bad as the proverb perfectly applied to two issues James was currently facing.
The first one was, of course, the curse.
After she's spent all day yesterday working on the choreography, refining the movement of her arms and her feet, fixing her posture, perfected her timing, repeated the steps once, twice, thrice, she shouldn't be surprised about what followed.
Yesterday she'd felt amazing. No swollen skin, no headaches, not even a bruise after she'd knocked into her corner.
She'd trained all afternoon, sending a video to Liz to show off her process and receiving a frowny face in response, and a thumbs up when she recorded herself nailing the part she usually struggled with.
She'd forgotten about everything else then.
But all she had forgotten about came back to her when she woke up this morning and couldn't move.
The curse might have slept yesterday away but when James rose today, it reared its ugly head again, pulling her back down and gazing at her with a jeering smirk. Once again taunting her.
She had no other choice but to surrender herself to its iron grip. Angry tears came to her eyes as she grit her teeth and tried to push herself up and failed. The tears started to run down her cheeks as she barely managed to roll onto her side, arm aching as she reached for her phone on the nightstand.
She couldn't have just taken it easy the day before, could she?
James has never been content with 'going easy'. She's never just sat back and enjoyed the quiet of a day where the curse was merely slumbering under her skin. She always had to rush and run and dance because she never knew what came next.
She couldn't know.
Her mother had died on a quiet day.
It had been in the summer and they had been outside in the sun the whole day. James' knees and arms had been covered in bandaids with animal motives but the girl was laughing, and her mother had been chasing her, giggling.
