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“But I won’t wait for Malory to turn eighteen. I will take her now. So, Jacob, the choice is yours.”
How could someone be so cruel and heartless?
Malory. My sweet little sister. My precious little doll. My little princess.
Her smile flashed in front of my eyes. I could almost hear her laughter when I would spin her around.
She was only thirteen.
And he would take her now…
My mind screamed, and I covered my face with my hands, silently wailing.
I tuned out everyone, refusing to accept this reality. When I tried to stand up again, my knees weakened and sank down on the floor again. With whatever strength was left inside of me, I crawled to my sister’s bedroom.
Opening the door, I found her sleeping peacefully on her bed. She looked so innocent and vulnerable.
The tears fell down my cheeks, and I hiccupped back another sob as I kissed her forehead. My lips lingered there, and I breathed in her sweet flowery smell.
“I love you, doll. Remember that. Always.” Goodbye, Malory.
My gaze stayed on my sister for one last time before I walked away and closed the door. Stepping into my room, I closed my door too. I swiped away my tears with the sleeves of my shirt.
A decision needed to be made. My father wouldn’t make it. I would.
The box that Mr. Easton gave me was still on my bed. The black portfolio was there too. My vision blurred with tears again.
There would be no new beginning.
The dreams I had—everything was lost.
Pacing the length of my room, I tried to breathe. Minutes probably turned into hours. Finally, I heard my door open.
I didn’t turn around. Instead, I faced my bed, still staring at the white box and the portfolio.
“Valerie…” my mother started.
I could hear her crying. I heard my father sniffling too—as if he were trying to keep his tears at bay.
Covering my face with my palms, I took a deep breath. My tears had dried, and I made sure to swipe away any wetness that was still there.
I turned around to see my parents standing in front of the door. They looked completely ruined. Now, I remembered. They had the same exact expression three years ago—when that man had visited us.
But they were given more time.
And now—we had run out of time.
“Valerie…your sister…” my mother cried. “You have…to save your sister. He will…hurt…”
My father opened his mouth to say something—maybe to explain his situation, his faults. But I shook my head.
“She is…so…young…” My mother continued to sob for my sister’s life.
My lips wobbled, and my nose tingled with the effort to not cry. My stomach twisted again, and my fingers curled into fists.
Instead of responding, I walked to my closet and took out a grey, glittery box. Inside, I found the pair of ballet flats that I wore during my last performance. The same performance where The Royal Opera House had decided to make me their female lead.
My favorite pair of ballet flats. My lucky charm.
My voice came out as a whisper when I finally spoke. “I heard…you talking.”
There was silence. A tear fell down my cheek, and I let it roll, sliding down my neck, leaving a wet, lonely trail.
“Can I take this box with me? That’s all I want.”
“Val,” my father started, but I cut him off.
“Will he let me take this box?”
“I think…”
Closing the box again, I held it to my chest as if it would give me protection. I turned around to see my father holding my mother, who looked pale and almost sick from crying.
I saw the shame in my father’s eyes before he looked down. “I am sorry,” he whispered. “I am so fucking sorry, Valerie. This is my fault…this is all my fault……my sweet girl…”
My throat felt tight, almost suffocating me. I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but no words came out.
“It’s okay.”
My mind screamed. Liar! It’s not okay!
I walked past my parents and out of my bedroom, still holding the box like it was my saving grace.
“Promise me you will never let anything happen to Malory,” I said, stopping at the stairs.
“I promise,” my father replied.
My body trembled in pain, and another tear fell down my cheek. This time, I lifted my chin up. And then I took a step forward—toward the man who sought to own me—to destroy me.
“Myshka.”
I silently gasped as pain assaulted my body. Viktor’s voice. So soft—and far, far away, almost like it was deep underwater. I could barely even hear it. Maybe I didn’t hear it. Maybe it was my dream.
Viktor’s hand tightened at the back of my neck. Not hard enough to hurt me, but there was a commanding pressure in his hold. My eyes snapped open, my gaze on his lips.
“Look at me, Valerie.” I stared up into his deep chocolate brown eyes.
My lips parted, and I took a deep breath before whispering. “I used to…dance. Until it was…stolen from me.”
