Page 25 of Sweet Nightmares
It was men.
Jane’s fingernails bit into her tights so hard she put holes in them. She’d never dance again. Not even her husband was cruel enough to take that away from her.
“I hate you.”
Chapter Nine
Age 23.
Breathing felt like dying, and getting out of bed was next to impossible. Without dance, Jane had no hope. She was a useless blob of human flesh. She was nothing—a girl controlled by two evil monsters.
She was a shattered mirror. Dead and filled with horrible luck.
Somehow, she had managed to inform the Royalle Ballet Director that she had sustained a career-ending injury and that she would no longer be able to perform. Saying the words aloud was the hardest thing she’d ever done, but somehow she had managed.
And now she lay in the fetal position in her bed, which she hadn’t left in two days save to drink water and relieve herself.
It was her week to herself. The week she didn’t have to stay with her husband or see Nightmare, she rented a room at the Viridian Nightclub.
The Courtesan Club and Cabaret was one of the seventeen known Mirror-Blessed buildings in the city. Kordelia, theowner of the Viridian, made a deal with a mirror to create a club that was alive, always moving, and always changing with enchantment. It gave the attendees their heart’s desires, conjuring up any and all fantasies one might have. It was a den of pleasure and sin.
Most importantly, it was a refuge for the lost and broken, and it was the place Jane turned to for the week she was alone.
A soft pattering sounded at the door. Jane mumbled and smashed her pillow over her face. She wanted nothing to do with whatever was beyond her room.
“Janey?” A soft, feminine voice floated through the crack in the door.
Another soft knock.
“Move aside, Constance. She won’t hear you if you knock like a hummingbird.” Kordelia’s harsh tone pierced through the wood.
“I am trying to be gentle,” the softer voice said.
Kordelia scoffed. “She doesn’t need gentle.”
And with that, the door flung open, and light slapped Jane across the face. She groaned and slammed her face further into her pillow.
“It’s time to stop sulking, girl.” Kordelia’s formidable footsteps sounded like thunderclouds as she moved closer. “Get up.”
The pillow was ripped out of Jane’s hands, and that horrible light surged through her skin and into her bones.
“No,” she moaned.
“You need to get up and move on with your life.” Kordelia crossed her arms and glared at Jane.
“It’s only been three days. She can sulk for at least four more.” Constance was generally the nicer of the two, but she was even more so now, since she was also a dancer. The Viridian’s star cabaret dancer.
Jane was semi-friendly with both women, but she didn’t truly have any close friends because her husband never wanted her to have relationships beyond him. When she was with Nightmare, they were focused on his machinations, and Jane didn’t have time to connect with people.
Kordelia clicked her tongue. “The longer she sulks, the harder it will be. She needs to push through it.”
“No, she doesn’t.” Constance’s voice sounded as light as birdsong despite being firm.
Kordelia stepped closer and put a gentle hand on Jane’s shoulder. Then she knelt to eye level. “I do not possess a heart any longer, but this one”—she motioned to Constance with her thumb—“is trying to teach me empathy. And here is what I have gathered. You are a young, broken girl with an unfair life and unfair circumstances. You have experienced far more than most will in their entire lives. You are hurting, and you don’t know how to live past your most recent setback. But I also see you, girl. You are strong, talented, and resilient. You can get through this, too. The Viridian is a safe haven for girls like you, and you can sulk for years if need be. Constance and I are immortals; We’re not going anywhere, so if you want to be a pile of pathetic human flesh taking up one of the beds in my nightclub, by all means…”
“Kordelia—” Constance chided.
“But I think you are too driven and too full of life to waste your youth away sulking. So you can’t dance anymore—it’s awful, but it’s notwho you are. So, who are you? A girl who gives up?”
