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I want to live. I want to be free.
All these secrets, all this weight sits like rocks within my chest, dragging me down until it feels like I’m drowning. My body folds over and like a marionette doll, my fingers drag across the floor as though my strings have been severed.
But somehow I stand upright, just like the song. I bounce back. I keep fighting because vulnerability is a choice and I refuse to be a victim. I do what I do because I have to, not because I’m weak. With a heaving chest I run, leaping into the air, my legs kicking out in a split. I land and transition into a low spin, my right leg extended over the floor, the tips of my toes drawing an invisible circle over the floorboards before I put all my weight on my right foot and hands and tumble into a forward roll, pushing upright once more. My heart pounds inside my chest at the exertion, my skin flushes with heat and sweat beads on my forehead, but still I dance.
I dance to let go.
I dance to keep sane.
I dance even when Zayn steps into the studio.
I dance despite his presence.
Becauseof it.
I dance to show him that I can’t be beaten.
That Iwon’tbe beaten.
No. Matter. What.
I might be pulled taut, I might be fraying at the edges, but I’m still here. I’m still fucking dancing. And even though I was brought to my knees in the cage at Grim’s club, Jeb didn’t break me. None of them did. I fought back. Just like I’m fighting back now.
Leaping into a spring jump, I extend my legs then land lightly, locking eyes with Zayn. My chest heaving as he watches me. My heart might be broken, it might bleed but it still beats.
It. Still. Fucking. Beats.
My fisted hand bashes against my chest, echoing my moves on Friday night. I’mnotbroken. I jerk my chin before throwing up my hands and stamping my feet. Anger oozes out of me like an invisible monster seeping into the wooden floors, edging its way towards Zayn. I can almost see the sharpened claws scratching across the wood.
“Pen, there are things I need to say, and you need to listen,” Zayn demands, his words firm and unyielding even when he steps backwards, away from my pain like the coward that he is. Where’s his apology now? Where’s the sorrow in his gaze, the fucking empathy? I look into his pitch-black eyes and seethe when I see nothing but a fierce determination to hurt me even more. He’d get the same look in his eye when we were kids, when he was pissed off at something and wanted to vent, to hurt those closest to him because he knew we’d love him anyway. Today, I’m not feeling so generous.
“Just stop a moment,” he continues, grinding his teeth.
My nostrils flare and my eyes narrow at his. “No!” I retort, refusing to let him control me, refusing to let him off that easy. Dancing like this is to helpmecope. It’s not my fault he’s finding it too hard to stomach. He can stay and watch, or leave, either way I’m not stopping. With no more fucks left to give, I flip forward landing close to him then immediately spin away and out of his reach. I leap into the air in a scissor kick then drop to the floor into the splits before sweeping my legs out to the front and throwing my hands above my head. I lie on the floor, my back arching before dropping back down in time to the music as though my battered heart is desperate to burst free of my chest. It sure as fuck feels like it wants to. Sia continues to sing, her haunting voice floating over me, the lyrics to the song perfectly revealing how I feel. Squeezing my eyes shut, I force back the tears, needing a second to catch my breath, to shore up my defences. It’s the worst thing I could’ve done because a beat later the air shifts above me and Zayn’s warm breath wafts over my cheeks, his jacket brushing against my arms.
“Pen…” Zayn grinds out, his firm legs encasing my hips, his voice cracked and breaking.Brittle.“I need you to stop. I need you to listen…”
My pulse races as his body cages mine. his nearness creates an ocean of fear inside my chest and suddenly I feel like I’m losing the battle to stay afloat. Is he here to finish what he started? Is this the point when I completely lose my faith in the memory of the boy I loved more than life itself? My throat closes over as Zayn lowers himself over me, his warm breath feathering over my skin as his lips brush against mine. That delicate touch is too much, and a sudden, soul-searing anger rises up my chest.
No!
“No!” I repeat out loud. He doesn’t get to invade my space like this. He doesn’t get to be this close. He doesn’t get to dominate me this way. He doesn’t get to make me feel exposed, weak. He doesn’t get to make me want him, despite it all.
Fuck this!
I snap my eyes open and glare up at him. Putting all my hurt into that one look. I imagine tiny little blades flicking from my eyes and into him. I imagine each one cutting him deep and causing him pain. I want to hurt him. I want to hurt them all. Every-fucking-one. He flinches, but he doesn’t move.
“Fuck you!” I snarl, refusing to engage him further, willing to fight against this man I clearly don’t fucking know. Lifting my hands, I push against his shoulders, shoving him upwards. He rears backwards and our eyes meet. His black orbs spark with fire, but rather than say anything he waits, his chest heaving as he looks down at me. I’m still on my back between his legs, but as Sia sings about hiding vulnerability, I flip onto my stomach, and use my forearms to pull myself out from between his legs, refusing to be vulnerable to him.
A warm hand wraps around my ankle, yanking me backwards and I slide against the floor as he drops back over me, his fingers wrap around my throat possessively, but his hold is gentle as he urges me upwards into a kneeling position.
“Listen to me, Pen,” he growls, pulling me back against his body as I face away from him.
I’m ready to scream, to fucking elbow him in the stomach, to kick and scratch. I’m ready to fight, but then he presses his lips against my ear and whispers something that surprises me, that makes me question my sanity. “If you don’t want to talk, then at least let me dance with you. Help me to feel again, Pen.”
There’s a desperation to his request. A heavy sadness, alonging. Am I imagining this? “What?” I whisper out, confused, taken aback. That’s not what I thought this was.
“I need tofeellike you do.”
