Page 102 of The Devil and His Goddess

I wasn’t sure how long my resolve would be able to beat back the dark whispers and memories, so I made quick work of washing up in the bathroom before making my way to the closed double doors of the ballet studio.

I stood just on the other side of the room I’d longed to enter but had been too afraid to face. My heart pounded, and my palms grew clammy as a flurry of anxiety took flight in my chest.

Before the feeling could totally take over, I took a deep breath and opened the doors. The midday winter sun streamed in from the large windows at the side of the room. I turned toward that light and slowly crossed the space to the clothes rack. Perseus had gotten me more leotards than even I owned, and I ran my fingertips over the many options.

I pulled a black leotard off the hanger and grabbed a pair of pink tights from a drawer in a neighboring shelf. Stripping out of my clothes, I pulled on the ballet-wear right there with the winter sun kissing my bare flesh.

I swallowed hard and stood frozen in place after pulling on the clothes. So much of my skin was bare, and that feeling of near-nakedness made a pit open up in my stomach. The last time I’d worn a leotard and tights …

I took in a shuddering breath and shoved the thought down, focusing on getting my leg warmers, fleece, and dance shoes on. I left my long black hair down since it was just me here.

Seeing as I hadn’t danced in many weeks, I knew I couldn’t jump right into it, especially since I hadn’t been taking proper care of my body. I somehow still had energy, despite not eating or drinking, and I suspected that had something to do with Perseus.

That unexplained energy helped to carry me across the floor to the middle of the room. I put my back to the mirror and went through warm-ups that were easy on my out-of-practice body. The familiar burn stretched across my frame, and despite the discomfort, I smiled softly. It was a reminder that I was still here, still a dancer and not an empty husk merely going through the motions of life.

My typical warm-up time was only twenty minutes, but today, I went through the exercises for an hour. By the time I was done, sweat beaded my hairline, and I’d shed the leg warmers and jacket. My breathing came out heavy while my heart raced happily. Those facts only made the seed of life sprout in my chest.

With a quick drink of water from the fridge in the room, I changed my shoes to pointe shoes and went to the stereo. Without even thinking, I pressed play on the playlist forDancing in the Dark. The beautiful melody of the opening song poured from the speakers stationed in the corners of the room.

I held my breath and listened as the piece wrapped around me with old familiarity. It seemed like a different girl in a different lifetime had listened and danced to this music. I was no longer the same Harper as the one who’d been given the role of Psyche. I was no longer living in that world of bliss and hope.

The numbness burrowed in my bones began to seep back out of the cracks I’d been trying to fill. I walked robotically to the center of the room and finally turned to face the mirror as the piece of music turned dark and melancholy. Psyche was being scolded and driven out of her village right now, and as she fled into the Dark Wood with a broken heart and dreams, I stood there and stared at my reflection.

There she was. The girl who’d died inside but somehow still breathed. The icy fingers of despair groped at my mind, and I no longer had the strength to fight the cold claws.

The borrowed energy left me. My legs buckled, and I fell onto my hands and knees without ever tearing my gaze away from my reflection. I crawled closer to the mirror on shaking arms and knelt before the girl I was now.

She feared being touched.

She feared dance.

She feared her own mind.

And Ihatedher.

I hated this body that no longer felt like my own. I hated the dull eyes that no longer sparkled with a zest for life. I hated the pale skin that was practically littered with invisible marks of foreign hands that only I could see.

“I hate you,” I whispered between clenched teeth. Tears rimmed my eyes, and the sight only spurred on my rage. “I hate you,” I cried louder as I pressed right up against my reflection. “I hate you!”

I pounded my fists against the mirror, using all my strength to shatter the glass. I wanted to destroy the girl staring back at me, so I wailed and screamed out my hatred for her as I continued slamming my hands and arms into the mirror.

But the glass was too thick and strong. No matter how hard I hit it, it wouldn’t break.

Only I did.

SILENCE FILLED THE BALLET ROOM. The playlist had long since ended, and the setting sun streamed down through the window. I stretched out on my back and stared up at the high ceiling with my arms out on either side of me. My emotions had been bottled up once more so that the numbness could coat my insides in a protective layer.

The door opened beyond my head. I didn’t pay it any mind, nor did I move at the sound of footsteps drawing closer. My gaze stayed trained on the ceiling as the comforting smell of salty sea air enveloped me. Perseus entered my periphery above me. I waited for him to ask what happened or for him to try to convince me that I couldn’t go on like this.

Instead of either of those things, he got on the ground and laid on his back right beside me. His fingers brushed mine, sending an electric jolt up my arm and right to my chest. I licked my lips and focused on that buzz that came from his nearness, hoping it would thaw some of the pain. As the two of us existed in silent stillness together, the tightness in my chest eased a fraction.

I inhaled slowly and inched my fingers closer to his until they overlapped. He finished by weaving our fingers through each other’s, and the feel of his palm pressed into mine grounded me. His strong and steady grip parted the clouds enough that I felt a single, miniscule ray of sunshine.

“Perseus,” I whispered into the silence.

“Harper,” he replied softly.

I didn’t say anything else. I wasn’t even sure why I’d said his name. Maybe I needed confirmation that I still could. Or maybe I needed a reminder of my own—I was still Harper, even though it didn’t feel like it.

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