Arron and Trexx

Chapter 52

Third person pov

She felt like a marionette, her body moving on its own to the sultry sound of the old piano, as though under someone else's control. But she took peace in it, closing her eyes, and allowing it to happen. She felt a heavy blanket of tranquility settle upon her like snow settled on a frigid river's bank. It was cold, but soft, and it cradled her as she twirled. The coolness spread across her skin, wrapping it in layers up layers of what she could only describe as peacefulness. 

"Good work, Arron." The eyes, the ones so similar to her own, did not have a body. But even so, she knew it was the person they belonged to speaking. "Make your back a little straighter-- like this. There you go!"

The air smelt of freedom as she leapt through it. Colors of every shade and hue exploded around her in a rainbow of ribbons when she landed. They swirled up around her in a protective shield, crashing together and causing the earth around her to tilt entirely. Her dancing did not falter. She continued to spin and leap, twirling and twirling, faster and faster as the world trembled.

The eyes before her shifted to a pair more ominous, the emotion in them morphing to something dreadful. They were, without a doubt, the ones she'd seen in the dark sea of her other nightmare. She felt something akin to death creep but behind her, but her body soared away from it before he could wrap its claws around her neck and snap it. The colors followed her, rocketing after her in an angry yet passionate stream.

"Again!" The eyes, a dark blue, seemed to say. The deep voice echoed around her, and soon that snow-like blanket was ripped off of her and replaced with something much, much more dangerous. Her heart rate picked up, taking flight, and she began to sweat. The cool tranquility was gone. "Your legs need to be straighter!"

Dancing, dancing, dancing. She used to love dancing. A part of her still did, aching for it and the joy it had once brought her as a child. It reminded her of her mother. These memories of the loving woman Arron remembered her mother to be flashed before her. They were just out of reach, but Arron chased them anyway. Her steps were fluent and graceful as she raced after what remained of her mother.

The memory flew away like a scared bird, disappearing into the inky blackness she hadn't noticed creeping up on her. Somehow, Arron managed to stop, staring in horror as a tall, lanky man stepped out of the shadows. "Again!" He barked in that same, sour voice. "You're not stopping until it's perfect, Arron."

And just like that, Arron began to pirouette once more.

She jolted awake, eyes wide, and sweat pouring down her body. Trexx's hand was on her shoulder. Clearly, he'd been the one to free her from her nightmare. She looked him in the eyes, and she took a deep breath, determined not to cry. That had been nothing more than a figment of the past, she told herself. She was safe.

She wished Shikamaru was here, but she knew he wasn't.

It was early, but she still got up, losing her appetite for sleep. She took a shower first, Trexx standing guard outside the door. She couldn't help but cry, then, as much as she didn't want to. She refused to cry over her nightmare. No, this time she cried for Shikamaru. She missed him more and more every day, and it was quickly beginning to take a toll on her. A toll she was adamant on fighting against.

She didn't cook breakfast this morning. She probably should have, she felt, but she didn't. Instead she found herself curled up in Shikamaru's bed. She felt exhausted both mentally and physically. Shikamaru was in the Forest of Death, and she was here. She hated that. She hated this all, really, with a burning passion. This stupid exam-

"Arron, honey?" Yoshino called quietly from outside the door. "I- um... Inoichi is here."

Arron felt annoyance well up inside her. Not towards Yoshino, but towards Inoichi. She knew he'd baited her into losing her temper. She was somewhat grateful to him, as it had definitely given her the push she needed to get on the road to recovery. She supposed there was simply some residual anger from his last visit.