The sound of pointe shoes on the stage floor somehow always distracted me from the excruciating pain that met my toes as well as the fact that bodies physically were not meant to dance en pointe. However, it was still something that I will be doing until I physically cannot do anymore; which might be soon, most ballerinas en pointe have to quit dancing in their late 20's early 30's- I'm 24.
The show tonight was a blur, I was still trying to comprehend all the events that had happened last night. Zane decided to stay home tonight and take it easy for the next few days, which I completely understand. I'll just Uber home, playing this lead has earned me some extra cash in which I'm going to use to finally get a car.
Once the show was over I was greeted with dozens of flowers in my dressing room, all from strangers, friends, and family. However, there was one vase that stood out to me- sunflowers, lilies, and yellow roses encased in a lovely rose gold vase standing on my vanity. A note lay on top of the flowers, the butterflies in my stomach flying crazy as I wonder what Zane's written on it. A smile creeping up on my face as I took the note in my hands- but as I examined the blue ink against the white card stock I realized that it wasn't his handwriting.
All the memories of when he would write reminder notes on sticky notes and put them on the fridge all started coming back to me. The notes containing words like "slut", "whore", "bitch", etc. Especially if I had to be reminded more than once. Even going so far to force these words on my own skin with Sharpie, some sort of kink of his that somehow got him off and took me days to rinse off. Trembling fingers ran over my collarbones, the burning sensation returning to my skin as I recalled the shade of scarlet it turned from the allergic reaction by the Sharpie. And him refusing to take me to the hospital or even tell me where he's hid my own EpiPen.
Come home
The handwriting was scribbled and messy, obviously written as he was under the influence. After I muttered out an audible "ugh", I burned the note and threw the remains in the trash along with the flowers. I just wanted to go home, and I don't know if I felt safe taking an Uber home; since that rat keeps finding ways to find me. God knows he could be my fucking Uber driver tonight.
As I changed out of costume I called Heath, knowing that Zane would be asleep by now. "Hey Heath do you mind giving me a ride? I just don't feel very safe right now" My voice was slightly shaky as I rinsed off the stage makeup and looked back at the flowers in the trash.
"Of course! I'm on my way right now, just...just stay safe, Olivia" Heath's voice was seemed genuinely concerned, I could hear him getting into Big Red from the other line and I let out a slight sigh of relief knowing that he would be here soon. As I waited for Heath I finished getting out of costume and read all the kind notes that were left on the flowers, they distracted me from him.
I decided to take one of the vases home, the one with daisies, honeysuckle, and baby breath. There was a knock on the door, and I prayed that it wasn't James. I unlocked the door and peered through the slight crack in the door to see a red shirt belonging to a man with a cowboy hat on. I wrapped my arms around Heath and let out a breath that I've been holding for the past 45 minutes, thankful that I was finally safe- for now.
"Let's go home"
