Accolade

chapitre une

two days before

My life is perfect. 

Almost as perfect as I jogged the peaceful streets of New York City at five-thirty every morning. I had on a pair of leggings and a sports bra but I had thrown on a cropped sweatshirt today because it was somewhat chilly. It had rained on and off last night, leaving the streets and skyscrapers in the company of thick fog. 

I had always loved mornings, they were peaceful. 

It allowed me to collect my thoughts as I started my days. I didn't typically listen to music because a girl could never be too careful on the streets. I listened to the rhythmic beat of the soles of my sneakers against the wet concrete and felt the rush of my pulse, that which raised my inspiration rate until my lungs nearly ached. 

Pain was normal. I had been dancing from a young age and often times when my muscles screamed at me to stop, that's when I was at the top of my game. I learned to use pain, instead of let it use me, and it brought success. 

I took in my surroundings in between breaths, puffs of steam curling around my cheeks, and admired the beauty of the city. Skyscrapers disappeared above me as the fog hung low, and neon signs flashed with the symbolism of lightning. Dawn was approaching, I could see the bloom of color touching the fog above.

Soon, the sun would shine.

I turned the last street corner, and paused at the intersection. I jogged in place until the crosswalk sign turned green and then I jogged across the street. In the afternoon, these streets could be crowded with hundreds of people. Car horns would constantly sound and impatient people would curse each other out.

But right now was my favorite time.

When I approached my apartment complex, I fell into a quick walk. I glanced down at my wristwatch. It was nearly seven, I had just enough time to eat and change my clothes. I entered the lobby.

"Morning, Anton," I called to the doorman. He was more of a security guard. I had invested in a private living complex when my name had gained fame, it kept the paparazzi out and the stalkers off my doorstep. Anton glanced up from his desk and nodded in acknowledgment. I'd never heard him speak more than two words at once.

My thoughts wandered as I rode the elevator to the fourth floor and then I stepped off, simultaneously pulling my long hair out of its messy top bun. I raked my fingers through a few times before unlocking my apartment door.

I lived alone, I had no roommates or pets, I just had plants littered around my cozy little flat. It was designed with an open floor, where I practiced ballet on off-hours, and it had three bedrooms down the hall. It was modern, with a gorgeous view of the city, and I had lived on my own here since I was nineteen.

I had grown up with three older brothers and a strong mother who loved all four of us with her very soul. Dad had taken off when I was little, right after I started dancing, and he never told us why. I just figured he didn't love us--he didn't love me--and we never saw him again. 

Mom made sure that we had everything we needed, and did her best to make us happy when times were tough. I loved her. Even the thought of her makes my heart sore because three years ago, she had passed away from cancer.