Текст книги "Fading"

Автор книги: E. K. Blair

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

So far my classes have been uneventful. It's the first week, so I don't expect much until at least next week. I just left my Methodologies class and I'm on my way to the studio for my Ballet Technique class. When I walk through the double doors, I am greeted by a few of the girls.

The dance program here at the University of Washington isn't huge. You're in classes with the same people every quarter. I've been with these girls for three years, and even though we all see each other every day, I don't hang out with any of them outside of classes and studio. Everyone is pretty competitive, so I prefer to keep it strictly professional and not mingle outside of school.

This year will be exceptionally competitive because of our senior capstone, which is a self-choreographed solo. Only two solos will be selected to perform during the final production at the end of the year. It's an important performance for graduating seniors because there will be lots of agencies in attendance. Getting a solo can mean having a job after graduation.

Everyone is scattered around the studio, taping up their toes, banging new pointes on the floor to break in the box, stretching, and a few are even quietly chatting. I keep to myself and start taping my toes. The past three years that I've spent here have been good. I tend to get lead placements in dances, standout solos, and duets with the male dancers. We combine with the guys on Tuesdays and Thursdays for an extra hour on top of our normal two-hour class.

I look up and see Andrea Emerson walk in. She's our instructor for all technique classes, and she is hardcore. She has no patience for inconsistency and expects perfection. She's tough, but she's the best. I feel a little nervous upon seeing her, even though I put in studio time at least three days a week over the summer. If you are off your game, she will let you and everyone else know it.

Ms. Emerson is a seasoned dancer who has made a decent name for herself throughout her career. Although she is in her fifties, she can still dance like the pros. She has an intimidating look about her. She always wears her long blonde hair up in a tight bun with a black leotard, white tights, and a sheer black wrap skirt. She always has a stoic look, and in three years, I have yet to see her break a smile.

She claps her hands twice, and everybody goes in search for their place on the barre. We all look the same with our hair secured in buns on the tops of our heads, black leotards, white tights, and our pale pink pointes. The classical music of a piano comes through the speakers and fills the room. I place my left hand softly on the barre and wait for the signal to begin our exercises.

The routine never changes. I've been doing these exercises since I was eleven and was in my very first ballet class. It was my mother who first signed me up for ballet. She never imagined that I would want to make a career out of it, but I have always loved dance. The freedom you can find within the strict boundaries of technique makes me feel alive. I am happiest when I am dancing.

I work gracefully through the ninety-minute routine, and when we come to an end, Ms. Emerson calls for us to gather in the front of the room. She begins to talk about our solos for the year.

"Things will be different this year. Instead of you choosing your piece of music, you will be drawing it out of this basket. There is a different piece on each CD. You will randomly choose your CD and that will be the song that you will use to choreograph your final routine. Don't forget ladies, this could be the beginning of your career, and for some of you, the end," she says.

I slowly make my way up to the large, weathered black wicker basket. I look down at the pile of discs that have the potential to launch me forward or drown me. Picking the wrong song could be disastrous. I close my eyes and pull out a CD, all the while praying to the dance gods to bless me with the perfect piece of music. I stare at the blank disc as I make my way over to my dance bag that is lying on the floor. I sit down, shove it in my bag, and start to remove my pointes.

I walk out in the warm August afternoon and slide into my white Infinity coupe, setting my bag on the passenger seat. I take out the disc and push it into the CD player, turn up the volume, and hit play. I close my eyes as I wait for the music to start. I can barely hear the strings of a violin at first. They slowly and quietly begin to build with the low, deep hum of a cello followed by a dark, melodic piano. I recognize the piece as Clint Mansell's 'Lux Aeterna'.

This is an extremely dark piece of music. My stomach hollows and I feel anxious. I have never danced to, yet alone choreographed, anything this dark. I was hoping for something feminine and delicate, not this. All I can picture is Natalie Portman's psychotic character in 'Black Swan' as she bleeds out on stage. When the song comes to an end, I turn off the stereo and drive home in welcome silence.

I don't want to think about what I just heard. Instead, I try to focus on clothes. Yes, clothes. Think about clothes, Candace. Sorting through my closet in my head, I try to think about what I'm going to wear to the party tonight. It doesn't take long for my mind to fill with dread when I think about being honest with Jack and letting him know that I'm not looking for anything with him. And based on the music I just heard, my year is fucked. I am going to be living and breathing dance if I'm expected to choreograph a masterpiece to that song.

I wake up from my nap, and even though I took a shower when I got home after dance class, I decide to hop in for another. The bathroom fills with steam, and I open the glass door to the shower. I try to calm my nerves as I focus on the water beating against my back, but I don't think anything will take away these butterflies in my stomach. I give up on the shower and step out. I wrap a towel around me and see Jase fiddling around on my computer when I walk into my bedroom.

"What are you doing?" I ask while I walk over to my dresser and open the top drawer.

Staring at the screen, he says, "Nothing really, just messing around. I just finished my last class and thought I'd come chill with you."

I pull on my underwear and start to slip on my bra when he turns to look at me.

"You going somewhere?" he asks.

"Yeah, there's a party at Jack's fraternity tonight, and he asked me to go."

Jase leans back in the chair and sarcastically says, "You sound thrilled."

Grabbing my hair dryer, I look back at him. "It's just...I'm not into him aside from kissing. We have nothing in common, and I feel nothing towards him."

Jase grins at me.

"This should not be a surprise to you, Jase," I say.

"Nope, no surprise at all. Typical Candace, devoid of all things emotional. Well, except for me." He gives me a big smile then turns back around to the computer, and I flick on the hair dryer.

I see the lights of Jack's car pierce through the large windows in the living room. I grab my purse and yell at Kimber from across the house. "Jack is here. I'll see you later."

"Bye, sweetie, and good luck," she hollers back.

By the time I open the front door, Jack is already walking up to the house.

"Hey," he says, reaching out his hand for me to take.

Holding hands while walking to his car feels weird to me. I know it probably shouldn't since the last time I saw him I had my legs spread across his lap, but I guess it was the fact that I knew I was going to end things tonight. I feel like I'm being deceitful by holding his hand.

He opens my door and I slide into the car. When Jack gets in, he leans over to give me a kiss. I make sure to keep the kiss short. The silence is a little awkward as we drive to his fraternity house. I stare out the window and watch the streetlights pass.

"Is everything okay?" he asks.

I turn my head to look at him and say, "Uh huh. I'm just a little tired, that's all. I had three classes today plus my studio." With my head lazily leaning against the headrest, I continue to stare at Jack. I think about Jase's words back at the house: Typical Candace, devoid of all things emotional. Do I purposely avoid relationships or is it simply because I just haven't met the right person yet? Maybe I should try and give Jack a chance. Maybe that's it. I never see a guy long enough to give him a chance. Maybe if I gave him time, I might wind up really liking him.

I snap out of my thoughts when I feel Jack's hand run up my thigh. He cocks his head to the side and gives me a little smirk. I smile in return.

"You're beautiful when you smile," he says and then returns his gaze to the road ahead.

I don't say anything. I simply sit there with my head resting on the seat.

I can already hear the music as we pull up to the house. Jack pulls around to a small parking lot behind the house. We get out of the car, and the muffled music and voices become clearer the closer we get. Jack opens the door and there are throngs of people everywhere. It's a two-story house and the stairs are covered with students who already seem to be drunk. Everyone is shouting over the loud music to make themselves heard. Jack's warm hand grabs mine, and he gives it a squeeze as he leads me back to the kitchen where he is greeted by a bunch guys that are slapping him on the back and grabbing his hand the way guys do. He doesn't introduce me, which is fine; I'm feeling slightly uncomfortable. I look around and watch a group of girls that are sitting at a table playing some sort of drinking game with a few guys. The rest of the room is filled with people talking and laughing loudly. Everyone is drinking and having a good time.

"Want a beer?" Jack asks.

"Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks." Jack walks away to fetch our drinks, and I'm left alone. I lean back against the center island and continue to watch the drunken girls as they giggle and act stupid. Looking at them, I'm starting to feel underdressed. Most of the girls here are wearing little skirts and dresses with nice heels. I feel a little awkward in my black retro Vans tank top, worn tattered jeans, and a pair of black Chucks. I tried dressing it up a little by adding a fitted red and black flannel that I left unbuttoned, with a vintage gold necklace. But these girls look like they have a particular goal in mind for the night.

Jack returns with our drinks, and I take a long, slow drink. Wrapping his arm around my waist, he moves to stand in front of me. When he leans in and kisses me below my ear, I quickly move my head back.

"What's wrong with you tonight?" he snaps with his eyebrows knitted together.

I try and lessen the tension as I smile and say, "Nothing, I'm just a little uncomfortable, that's all."

Jack sets his beer down and places each hand on the countertop on both sides of me, locking me in. "Relax," he says in a soft voice.

But I can't. He backs away, takes my free hand, and walks us out to the main room where people are dancing and hanging out.

"I'll introduce you to a few people," he shouts over at me.

We walk over to a group of people and Jack introduces me. There are a couple girls that I have seen around campus, and we are able to strike up a light conversation. I'm not sure how much time has passed, but my head is starting to hurt from all the loud music. The girls suggest we go hang out outside. I let Jack know, and I leave him there with his buddies while I head outside with the two girls. We find a few chairs and sit down. They are carrying on a conversation while I rest my head back and close my eyes. I am somehow able to drown out the noise and focus on the light breeze that's sweeping across my face.

"You tired?"

I open my eyes to Jack's voice, and he is kneeling down in front of me with his hands on my knees. I look at him and nod my head. He stands up, takes my hand, and starts walking me back into the house. When he takes me upstairs, he leads me into a dark room with a couple full-sized beds.

"What are we doing in here?" I ask him and he moves to sit down on one of the beds.

"I figure we could just hang out and relax away from all the noise. Is that all right?"

I walk over to him and sit down. "Yeah," I say, and then I turn to look at him. "I'm sorry I'm being a drag. I've just had a long day."

"It's fine, Candace," he says as he lies back on the bed.

I shift and lie down next to him and close my eyes. My head is starting to throb with an oncoming headache. We just lie there in silence, and the peace feels really nice. Jack brushes his hand over my cheek, and my eyes flutter open. Leaning over me, he looks in my eyes, and I can smell an obscene amount of liquor on his breath.

"Jack," I whisper as he leans down and presses his lips against mine. I know this is wrong, and he has clearly had too much to drink, but I find myself getting caught up in the moment. I run my hand up the back of his neck and start kissing him in return. He rolls on top of me, and the weight of him presses me into the bed. Our kisses turn frantic, and my breath quickly becomes labored. He runs his hand across my stomach, hooks it into the waistband of my pants, and gently tugs down. I feel my stomach knot up, and I push away.

"I'm sorry," I say, closing my eyes tightly. "I shouldn't be doing this."

"What the fuck, Candace," he spits out, and when I open my eyes, I see the irritated look on his face. "What's the problem? It's like one minute you're all over me, and the next, you're pushing me away. You pulled this same act the other night."

I push back against his chest, but he doesn't move. "I'm sorry, I'm just a little confused. I don't want to lead you on, but—"

He crashes his mouth against mine and starts kissing me again. What the hell is he doing? I push against his shoulders, but I'm only pushing myself deeper into the bed. I feel his hand run up my inner thigh and between my legs. I gasp for air, but I feel like I can't get enough into my lungs. I jerk my head back and forth and manage to roll onto my side. The weight is gone. Taking a deep breath, I look at Jack who is sitting on his knees in the middle of the bed.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I shout as I stand up on my shaky legs.

Laughing at me, he says, "You can stop with the good-girl act, Candace." He says my name like it's dripping in disdain. He climbs off of the bed and starts walking towards me. "I just can't figure you out, and it's starting to frustrate me. I like you, but I get the feeling like you're playing me."

"I'm not. I'm just...I don't know. I just don't think this is going to go anywhere," I say as I stare at the floor.

Jack tightly grips my shoulders with both of his hands, pushing me backwards. I stumble a little when we hit the wall. My body turns cold, and I feel the skin on my neck prickling. I'm getting nervous, and my heartbeat quickens. What is he doing? Is he pissed? Shit, I just want to leave. I just want to go home and pretend this night never happened. It's been weird from the start, and it's only getting worse.

"Oh, no? And why's that? You must think it's funny to lead me on. Is this how you get your kicks?" He is inches from me when he speaks, his breath hot on my face.

My shoulders are trembling under his hands, and I feel the lump in my throat growing bigger, which is making it hard for me to breathe.

"I'm not jerking you around, I swear. Listen, I'm not good at this stuff. It's not you." My voice is shaky, and I hate that.

He pushes his body up against me and buries his face in my neck. I gasp for air and let out a whimper. I don't want to cry, but my emotions are all over the place right now. He thrusts his hips against mine, and that is my undoing. Tears flow down my cheeks, and I'm pushing my hands against his chest, but he won't budge.

"Jack, stop! What are you doing?" I am freaking out as he completely smothers me. Fisting my hands, I start smashing them into his chest, trying to get him off of me. I can barely see through my tears, and I wind up punching his lip. He takes a step back and wipes his mouth. It's bleeding. He looks up at me with a murderous glare, and I know he's about to lose it. I bolt for the door and run.

My heart is pounding against my ribs, and I struggle to breathe as I run down the stairs. Bumping shoulders with people in the crowded living room and stumbling over my shaky feet, I find the door that leads out to where Jack's car is.

I notice I don't have my wristlet purse that has my cell phone in it. There is no way I'm going back inside though. I quickly decide to just walk home and deal with the purse situation later. It won't take long for me to get home if I cut through behind a few buildings. I walk fast and try to grasp what just happened, but I can't clear my head enough to focus. My heart is starting to slow, and the tears return. I am overwhelmed, and I think it is so much more than what just happened with Jack. Confusion doesn't even begin to describe my current state of mind.

"Candace! Wait!" I hear Jack's voice calling from behind me.

I turn to see my tiny gold purse clutched in his hand, but fear creeps over me, and suddenly, I don't care about the stupid purse anymore. I run.

I run fast.

I hear his feet pounding against the ground, and I know he's running after me. FUCK! I will my legs to move faster but they won't. My throat is on fire, and I can't breathe. I don't turn around to see, but I know he's close. My whole body is burning with panic. Quickly, I cut behind a building and suddenly feel an intense stinging as the side of my face slides against the pavement. Jack is flipping me over onto my back while I desperately claw my nails into the road, pleading to break free from his grip on me. The flesh on my cheek burns as he slaps me across the face. I can't see. Why can't I see? I force out a weak scream and am instantly muffled by his hand.

"Shut the fuck up," he violently snarls in my face.

I can barely make out his face with the tears that flood my eyes. I squeeze them shut because they are burning intensely. My body is weighed down, and I can't move beneath him. I'm not sure what's happening, but the terror rushing through me is frightening.

He reaches down, rips open my jeans, and starts yanking on them. I try and kick my legs uncontrollably, but he's sitting on them. Somehow, he manages to pull them off of one of my legs, as he releases his hand from my mouth.

"Plea-hease. Stop!" I scream, and he quickly clamps his hand back over my mouth. I desperately try to bite him, but I'm too frantic. I'm sobbing and barely breathing. It takes everything I have to choke out any sounds. But, it's no use. I hysterically pound my fists as hard as I can against him, but he won't stop. God, please stop!

Grabbing the neck of my shirt, he jerks down, tearing the soft worn fabric too easily. With everything I have in me, I try to lock my knees together, but he's so much more powerful than me when he knees my thighs and forces them open. Consumed by rampant fear, I fight as hard as I can, screaming against his hand. I feel him pulling my bra down, and my breast begins to burn. I'm in such a panic when I realize that he is biting me. Shrieking in desperation as the pain shoots down to my belly, I dig my nails into his arms in response to the pain.

"Bitch!" He shouts through clenched teeth as he pulls back and backhands me across my face. The blood pools in my mouth, and my body heaves as I begin to choke on it through my cries. Somebody help me! The fabric of my underwear cuts into my skin and stings when he rips them off of me. "You're not gonna fuckin' tease me anymore, bitch."

He pins my wrists above my head with his large hand, and my body shakes in horror when I realize that I'm completely helpless. God, please don't do this!

I manage to let out another choked sob as I frantically try to jerk my body from underneath him, but my muscles are so weak, and the weight of him is too much for me to fight. He's so heavy on me. I wail when I feel a sudden burn as he violently rips and pounds into me. My whole body locks up.

What's happening?

Is this happening?

God, is this happening?

Is this really happening?

My head falls to the side, and my body goes limp aside from the involuntary twitches from each of his assaults. I focus every ounce of strength I have left on the corner of the dumpster that's next to me. It's painted dark blue, but maybe it's a lighter blue during the daylight. I can tell it's been painted five or six times...I can see every layer. It's chipping away, and the dark grey metal from underneath is exposed. The line along the chipped paint is ridged and there is a thin vein of white between the blue and grey. Gritty dirt clings to the wheel, and the wheel lock is beginning to rust. The dumpster is worn and full of dents... one... two... three... four... five... six...

I snap out of my thoughts when Jack grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. "Tell me you like this," he taunts, and my sobs are excruciating as I feel his body jerk into mine, and he stills himself, grunting loudly.

He yanks his pants up and starts running his hand down my naked torso. What else does he want from me?

"You're nothing but a cunt," he lashes when he abruptly jabs his fingers inside of me and then spits in my face.

I begin to yell and thrash my body, fighting to escape. "God, please! Stop!"

He lifts up, and suddenly, I see a flash of light that is devoured by darkness and silence.