The New Girl

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"Easy, kisa."

The familiar voice was thick with a Russian accent and elicited both feelings of warmth and sadness. It spoke to her from the void, guiding her back to the world of the living. The darkness peeled away to reveal a small dance studio with wooden floors and large windows overlooking a city. One of the interior walls was a mirror, and in the reflection was a young, black teen who sat on the floor, her face wracked with pain as an older man held her left leg in place while examining her knee.

It took a moment for her to realize that she was looking at her own reflection. Unable to control her actions, she was forced to watch.

"No need for tears, kisa, is just a sprain." The man left her behind and crossed the room to a small closet. He dug around inside and came back with a thick roll of bandages in his hands.

She couldn't see his face in the mirror, her eyes locked on her own reflection. She was maybe fifteen or sixteen, but it was hard to tell. Her frame was thin and possibly malnourished, and there were small hollows beneath her eyes like she hadn't slept in days.

Is this who I was?

"Will I still be able to compete?" the teen asked, hopefully. She kept wiping away fresh tears before the man could see them.

"The heart of a dancer is stronger than the body of one, kisa. Perhaps you sit this one out."

"No, I have to compete," she protested, her voice fading into a distant echo. The memory was melting around her, the void reaching out with icy hands to claim her once again. She kicked her furry legs and swam away into the darkness until she could float alone with her thoughts. Had that been one of her memories? Was she the girl in the mirror?

The man's name was on the tip of her tongue, but the harder she tried to say it, the further it crawled down her own throat, determined to hide. The darkness now pulsed with stars, bright things that hurt her eyes and made her head throb in time with the universe around her.

She opened her eyes one at a time to see that she was lying on a bed in a dimly lit room. On its own, her hand touched her neck. It was purely instinctual, and the move itself caused her head to pound in time with her pulse.

A small moan escaped her lips, and when she tried to sit up, nausea and dizziness forced her to lay back down.

Some time passed before the rustling of fabric caught her ears, and she turned her head to see a woman standing in the opening of the room. The stranger snapped her fingers and a lantern by the door ignited, filling the room with a soft, yellow light that was barely tolerable.

"You're finally awake. I was worried you would be out forever." The woman picked up the lantern and walked to the bed, then set the light down on a nearby table. She looked Asian but had patches of scale-like skin along her face and neck that shimmered in the lantern light. "My name is Ratu. What's yours?"

"Nngh." The pain of trying to speak was nearly rivaled by the frustration of being unable to answer.

"I'm afraid you took a rather nasty blow to the head. Here." Ratu held out a couple of pills. "These will help with the pain. You can chew them."

She took the pills and popped them in her mouth. If this woman had wanted to poison or hurt her, she could have done it already. Besides, her head hurt badly enough that she couldn't think past making the pain stop.

The pills tasted awful, but it was like pouring water on an open flame. The pain rampaging through her head diminished greatly, and she let out a sigh of relief.

"Better?" Ratu asked, her green eyes glowing.

"Yes. Thank you." She not only felt better, but oddly calm. Looking into Ratu's eyes reminded her of a warm night by the fire, and it occurred to her that she was now staring. She looked away and rubbed her eyes, her whole body now warm and fuzzy, inside and out.

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