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Over the years my pain has become its own entity, growing within me, suffocating me as it became this monstrous thing. I don’t want to feel that way anymore.
I don’t want to hurt. I don’t want to hate. I don’t want to be afraid.
Climbing slowly to my feet, I kick out into a spin. Above me, my cupped hands hold onto that ball of pain I’ve kept buried inside of me. For a long time no one could see it.
I kept it hidden from my sister to protect her.
I kept it hidden from my mother to protect myself.
I kept it hidden from Jeb and my brother to show strength when inside I was breaking.
I kept it hidden from the Breakers to ensure their safety.
Moving across the floor, I dance with my pain held in my hands, wanting so badly to let it go. Every step I take, every turn and leap is edged with a sadness that tries hard to break me.
But something else happens too.
A sense of understanding.
I need to set my pain free and the only way I’m going to be able to do that is by sharing the truth.
I need to tell the Breakers what happened that night.
I need to tell them the truth and let the chips fall where they may.
Then and only then will I be free.
And maybe, just maybe they’ll be set free too.
With that thought in my heart, I open my palms and let the pain go.
I set it free.
Gathering my phone, I leave the studio and walk slowly back to my flat, unaware that someone else had watched my dance, unaware that they’d captured my pain and made it their own.
