Page 25 of Threads Of Madly Whispers

Oceans with depths of the unknown, a true enigma. I do not believe you know a person after a few shared words, though some might say otherwise. But with Sebastian, it was different. It was as if I saw so much of him yet nothing at once. Like I knew him from a past life, yet I do not believe in that.

I spent the night rethinking our exchange, with our conversation engraved on my mind. His scent, his eyes, his voice —all of it— never allowed me to find rest until the sun rose.

“I probably shouldn’t.”

I’m perched up on one of Naseria’s bean bags, staring at the hung emerald dress. I did not expect to find a well-dressed man at my door holding a package intended for me from Sebastian.

But I was not shocked, although the revelation of it did scare me some.

“I could not disagree more, Odessa!”

“Billow your chest a little more and your resemblance to an ape will be striking,” I poke at her.

“I’m offended,” she playfully gasps.

The dress is a gorgeous velvety material with a beaded corset and sleeves. A true match to the heels it came with. I suppose I stare at the dress a little too long because Miro then throws a pillow at me to garner my attention.

“This was not part of — just do not Essa.”I can see the glint of concern in his eyes.

“Should I list all the reasons she should go?”

“You’re a headache.Should I list the reasons she should not go?”he challenges.

“Miro I am this close to giving you a black eye,” she grits.

I know they both mean well. Miro prefers to keep to plan– it’s safer and we need safe after everything that has happened, but Naseria is — she’s grasping at straws. I see her tethering the line of composure and snapping. That night hasn’t quite left my thoughts, and with each turn I make, I see naked bodies and slit throats.

And as everyday passes, I feel her slipping away. I feel all of us slipping.

“His demands are nothing less than what others would demand —”

“He demands you stay under the same roof with him,”Miro cuts me off.

We read through the file the moment I walked in, my words still heavy from what had just transpired. I told them everything—every detail of the encounter, the strange pull I felt, the undeniable unease that lingers in the air. And once the shock of it had faded, we all shared our thoughts on the matter, each opinion settling into place like pieces of a dark puzzle.

It felt almost like a twisted version of sponsorship, but not the kind you’d find in an AA meeting—no, this was far different. This was ballet sponsorship, where the stakes were as high as the demands.

Sebastian would be the one to foot the bill, to support me financially, as long as I danced for him. In the unspoken terms of it all, I would become his creation, something to be molded, while my very existence would feed his ego, his desires.

The contract itself was simple—on paper. But nothing about this arrangement, this strange dance of power and control, felt simple. Far from it.

“It’s not unheard of, Miro. Many ballerinas stay in the same —” she pauses “—that’s, however, not the point, is it?” She sucks in a breath “I want you safe and if this is all too much you do not have to”

But I do, for reasons past this whole facade. At another time I would have welcomed such an opportunity, but surely the tables have turned.

“I’ll be fine, and I want to do this,” I lie, my wordsslipping from my mouth with ease, but not without the bitter taste of deception hanging at the back of my throat.

Miro needed more convincing, but after some time, he merely shrugged, as if the weight of his doubts had been pushed aside for now, though tension was still in the room.

A rope perhaps to pull at if I ever strayed too far, but Sebastian was offering me money too. And while the money would help tremendously in getting mama and us away from Callum, something about this agreement felt dirty and dusted.

Dirty because his way of persuading me was working, sadly. And dusted because oddly it felt old. Like a thought he had been replenishing in his mind until it became fruitful.

I question whether staying with Callum might just be better than staying with Sebastian. It is mind tearing, being stuck between making a decision that feels either like a ticket to my freedom or a road to a gilded cage. Pretty on the outside and damning on the inside.

A storm of emotions crashes through me, a swirl of indecision pulling at my thoughts like a tidal wave. I’m adrift, uncertain, as if the ground beneath me has shifted into something unfamiliar. My heart aches, an emptiness settling in my chest, because Mama, she always knew. She was the one who had the answers, who could guide me through the mess with a calm certainty. Now, without her, I’m left fumbling in the dark, searching for direction in a world that feels suddenly too big, too overwhelming.

The feeling is almost strangling, a relentless chokehold that tightens around my chest, each breath harder to draw than the last. It clings to me, suffocating and pressing against my ribs like a weight I can’t shake off. The air feels thick, as if the very atmosphere isclosing in, and every movement seems heavier, every thought slower. It’s a weight of loss, of confusion, a constant reminder of something I can’t undo, something I can’t escape.. Maybe he was right, I am seeking attention and the wrong kind at that.

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