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Spi—-

I lost my balance.

I heard my father roar, the sound mingling with Mademoiselle Alberta’s cry. They were not worried. They were not terrified. They were furious.

The sound killed me, and I panicked.

I stretched my arms out and tried to break my fall.

****

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHEcan’t perform?”

Dr. Fergus was taken aback by the anger underlining the voice of his patient’s father. Thinking it might be shock, he tried to elaborate, saying, “She’s broken her wrists, Mr. Raleigh. If I understand correctly, the practice your child undergoes for tomorrow’s performance is rigorous and it might cause damage—-”

“Nothing’s too rigorous for my daughter,” the other man interrupted. He was a tall, slim man in his late forties, and according to the doctor’s secretary, a rather famous male ballet dancer during his prime.

There was nothing, however, of Daniel Raleigh’s reputed grace with the way he none too gently grasped his daughter’s chin and forced her to look at him as he asked, “Right, sweetie?”

Even though the words were pleasantly spoken, they were still a threat, and the doctor opened his mouth to protest when his patient said quietly, “Yes, Father.” She was a stunningly beautiful child, with long blonde locks and sapphire blue eyes. But her expression, the doctor thought worriedly, was too...blank. It was as if her every thought and emotion was hinged on her father’s orders.

Daniel ruffled his daughter’s hair. “I knew you’d say that.” He turned to the doctor with a proud smile. “She takes after me, this kid. She’s going to continue my legacy.”

“I see.” And indeed, Dr. Fergus was beginning to see. “In that case, I won’t keep you two here any longer.” He turned to his nurse, who had just finished bandaging the girl’s left wrist. “I’ll take over and do the other hand, Nurse Simmons. If you could escort Mr. Raleigh to your office so he can sign the discharge papers?”

Daniel eagerly came to his feet. “Yes, yes, that’s a good idea.” He shook the doctor’s hand, saying, “Thanks for being understanding.” Without looking back at his daughter, he left to follow the nurse out of Dr. Fergus’ exam room.

The doctor took the child’s hand, and when he was sure they were out of Daniel’s earshot, he asked gently, “Does it still hurt?”

There was no answer, only an unblinking gaze.

Feeling he needed to tread carefully, he lowered his gaze and as he started wrapping the bandage around the child’s right wrist, he murmured, “If you feel any kind of pain, you must let me know. I only have to write a letter and you wouldn’t have to dance tomorrow.”

But the silence only continued, and just when he thought the child would no longer speak, he heard his patient whisper, “Father will get mad.”

The doctor stilled. Father. Not Dad, but Father. It didn’t feel right, but for now he decided to keep his reservations to himself and said instead, “I think you’re wrong, child. You can’t disappoint someone who loves you. Your father loves you, and because of that, he would never want you to do something that would cause you pain.”

The child didn’t speak, and the doctor didn’t press her to. He only hoped his words would take root.

And it had, but not in the way Dr. Fergus had imagined.

****

SNAP.

I was alone, my room dark and silent, but I heard the sound so clearly it was as if the bones were breaking again.

SNAP.

I loved the sound.

SNAP.

I closed my eyes, remembered how my dreams came true in the matter of seconds. I saw myself dancing in front of the crowded concert hall. Everyone’s mouths were open in admiration, but all I could think about was how they felt like sharks about to eat me alive.

SNAP.

I remembered spinning when it occurred to me, the freedom that could be mine if I just-—