Page 42 of Anything (Mayberry University #1)
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Right, left, side, attitude. And pivot around.
Even with the sofa wedged out of the way, I can’t fit my grand battement combination within the lounge without kicking the walls, so I aim diagonally toward the hallway.
My biggest muscle groups have me breathing heavy, and the exertion is cathartic.
I did this combination a thousand times in ballet class.
With every kick I’m more in tune with my body, more hopeful, more freed from worry.
“Woah!”
I jump at Sophie’s voice.
“You almost kicked your nose! You can do the splits standing up? Like a circus acrobat?”
“Ha. Kinda.” I weave my fingers behind my back. My ballet workouts had gone undetected until now. Her near constant singing usually announces her presence. “Hi. You’re back early.”
Sophie cackles. “You look so guilty right now. If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you had a boy in here. What was that?”
“Uh. Ballet. Center work.”
“Cool. Did you see Mr. Dreamboat today?”
I confirm, gnawing on my lip.
“Well, did you get him back?”
I shrug and nod, unsure which precisely.
“Yay! Well, your hair looks obnoxiously perfect.”
I choose to ignore that. She seemed to mean it well enough. “Thanks, Sophs. For yesterday.”
“Duh. Okay, carry on with your super-secret acrobatics. I want a ballet lesson sometime.” She bounces off to her room, graciously leaving me the lounge, and I notice a Bible clutched under her arm.
I close the suite door and transition to promenade and arabesque .
Quitting midway through the progression of a ballet class feels wrong, even after two years.
Besides, this is the best way to burn off those Levi nerves.
I can still feel that warm hand in mine.
Ayumi is here. I can’t see her face, but I feel her shaking me gently. “Wake up, Kit. You’re okay. You’re okay.”
I’m clammy and breathing raggedly, dragging myself out of the fog. My terror gives me away, but she already knows. Just a nightmare. Just another nightmare. I nod at Ayumi reassuringly. She pushes my hair back from my face and goes back to bed. She’s used to this. Poor Ayumi got the worst roommate.
I stare at the ceiling. I’m fine. I jumped out of the car at a red light. I ran faster than I’ve ever run. I heard his car door slam, but I hid inside a gas station bathroom. I got there in time. The guy at the gas station called the police. I was fine. Except I’m not fine.
The dreams never end like that. I know how that night was going to end. I just endured a vivid rendition of it again.
Why? Why do I have to live with this? It was one bad guy, one bad night, and now I’m broken forever? Please make it go away. Please take it away .
I’m always here.
In the morning, I run a brush through my hair, working out the knots from the night.
I try to do the same with my thoughts, but the nightmare’s tangled mess keeps snagging.
I circle back to the same memories—not the worst ones, but the ones from before, when things were still fixable.
Why can’t I let it go? Why must I obsess?
Trying to pull away from another kiss. Hand held too tight. Everything too fast, too soon. Ownership. Three months of what he wanted. Another human trophy, another win, another notch for his belt.
I saw it happening, but I didn’t see. Why didn’t I see?