The Editors

Chapter 1

I slipped the ballet shoes off my feet as quickly as I could, my fingers fumbling to untie the satin ribbons. Walking over to the side of the studio I waved my hand, commanding the blinds to open, letting in a flood of sunlight. My fingers moved in the air, touching the virtual key pad to change the classical music flowing out of the overhead speakers.

My mother had left about a half hour ago, trusting that I would follow her orders and do pirouettes until my toes bled. This hour of the day was reserved for her drinking. She pretended it wasn't but I could smell the whiskey on her breath and would watch as she tried to make her way up the stairs, stumbling with every step.

I walked to the center of the floor and took a calming breath. This hour might've been nice for her, but it was my haven, the only moment in the day where I could feel free in a lifetime of confinement.

I let out a breath, took a step forward, and danced.

No screaming that I was doing it wrong, no strict choreographed movements. Just me. I brought my body into a turn, tuning myself to be in sync with the sounds flowing throughout the room. My heartbeat grew stronger along with the music, warmth flooding through me.

That was when I decided to let go. All the tension, worries, and fear slipped from my mind. I was a lightweight, my walls temporarily down, and perfectly fine with being blown away in the wind far from my thoughts.

"So this is what you do when I'm gone."

I froze, feeling like a bucket of ice cold water had been poured down my back. She sounded calm, which was worse. It was always worse.

When she was angry and drunk she was unfocused and emotional, firing words at me that I could block out. When she was focused she knew exactly how to hurt me, knowing what would cause me the most pain, like a sharpened blade heading straight for me.

It always worked and I hated her almost as much as I hated myself for it.

"Oh, don't worry" she coolly, taking in the expression on my face. "This is my fault after all. Evidently I hadn't been clear enough with what would happen if you disobeyed me, and to think..." she paused, stepping forward to run an freezing hand along my cheek, "that I spent so much time trying to make you perfect."

I looked away at her words, but her hand slid down to grip my chin harshly and yanked my head back to face her.

"You will do as I say." Her fingernails had drawn blood.

I swallowed thickly and nodded. I shouldn't have tested her, knowing what she was capable of, it was stupid and dangerous. I had to be smart, cleverness was all I had going for me, but sometimes I just couldn't help it. Freedom, even just small tastes of it, we're addicting.

She nodded towards the door as she pulled out a silver flask from her coat pocket.

I let out a breath I didn't even realize I was holding once I sank down onto my bed, having left the studio as soon as her head had moved. I nervously pulled at strands of my hair as I glanced through my bedroom window. She would be drunk within the next half hour, and whatever mother kept in that flask could've been enough to knock out a whole town based on the way it stank. Add on an extra hour and she would be dead until morning and then some.

I stood and pushed open my window, glancing out longingly. I shouldn't, not after such a close call, but it had been a minor offence with no real punishment. What was just a small trip, a few measly hours, that would help me get through the rest of the month until I would be let out again. Some addictions were just too hard to break. With that final thought, I crawled through the window.