Page 40 of A Dark Duet

“I’m fine. It will heal but I’m more worried about you. Are you sure? So soon, Giselle? You just…” She trails off. I know she means well, but dancing is all I have.

“Yeah, I’m sure. They gave me really strong pain killers.” I sniff and look at my phone, not realizing that I have a missed text from Nate. I open the message, and it says he wants me to call him when I land. I laugh to myself.

“What?” Brie asks.

I show her my phone with the text message, date and time. “Oh, Giselle. I’m so sorry.”

“Too late now,” I say, placing the phone on the bed and getting up so I can get my suitcase and have Brie take me to the airport in the morning.

Giselle

Iwake up the next morning, and the pain has subsided significantly, but the pain within is a different story, I feel empty, lost and broken. Inside my head, all I hear are screams in pain for me and for my best friend. I can thank the medication and pain killers.

If I take them on time, I don’t feel pain, just soreness. The doctor said I should feel better in three days if I take the pain meds like instructed.

I will go back and teach the girls the love and art of ballet. It’s all I have left inside. The only thing they didn’t take away is my love for music, dance and ballet. The chance to be seen without looking inside.

I take a cab from the airport to Nate’s house, I arrive around dinnertime, knowing Nate goes to bed early. I have to wear a hoodie and anything that covers my neck. I found a turtleneck bodysuit to cover the deep purple and blue bruising around my throat and keep anyone from noticing. Brie and I found a perfect foundation for my neck and her face that will work, but if you’re sweating, then not so much.

I scan the driveway and see he has people over, including Jaden. Brie was going to come with me, but her face needs time to heal. I walk up and knock on the door with a suitcase in hand. I wait about five minutes and the door opens and it’s Jaden.

“Hey, Giselle. The team is in the theater room looking over the last fight. You’re welcome to…”

I don’t look him in the eye and interrupt his invitation. I have no intention of accepting.

“That’s okay, Jaden. I’m tired from the flight and I just want to go to bed. I need to wake up early and get to the dance studio. Nate likes to get to the gym early in the morning.”

“Giselle, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just tired.” I walk into the hallway toward the guest bedroom and leave him standing there with the door open.

Closing the door behind me, I decide to lock the door, so no one can open it while I’m taking a shower. I hope Nate doesn’t come and knock. I quickly lay out my outfit for the next day with a hoodie and high-neck bodysuit. I check, making sure the door is locked again.

When I am satisfied, I take a shower and go to sleep, praying I don’t wake up screaming in a cold sweat.

I decide to lie facedown and have as many pillows as possible. Maybe that will help to muffle the sound in case I wake up screaming.

In the middle of the night, I wake up in a cold sweat and look at the time on my phone: 4:59 a.m. It feels like I can’t breathe again. I rub my neck, which still feels sore but not too bad. I decide to take a shower and get dressed because going back to sleep is not an option. I hold my hand under the faucet and take my medication.

Carefully looking over my thighs, you can see the bruises are not as bad. I decide to wear black stockings until the marks are gone. I check the time: 5:59 a.m. I decide to open the door, dressed in my hoodie and leggings over my stockings, and go to the kitchen.

I find Nate sitting, drinking his morning shake, eating eggs and fruit. He smiles when he sees me. “You’re up early. Good morning.”

“Good morning,” I murmur. I don’t return his smile and I avert my eyes so he cannot see the look on my face.

I take a yogurt I bought at the airport out of the fridge for breakfast. I grab water and sit at the other end of the island and scroll through my phone.

“I texted you the other day.”

I stiffen. “I was kind of busy, sorry.” I continue to scroll through my phone, searching for basic ballet positions you can teach beginners at a young age.

“Giselle, are you okay?” he asks.

“Yep. I’m fine. Why?” I answer him without looking up from my phone.

“You seem like, I don’t know, something’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong.” I look up and give him the look I have felt every day since that night. Lost, broken, and screaming inside.

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