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“You’re never going to that wretched opera again,” he snarled at us both.
And he was right.
Two months later, Mummy was gone and it was just me and the monster who killed her.
To that day, I hadn’t told anyone he’d been the reason for her death.
And I never did see a ballet again.
I felt tears burning the back of my eyes as I danced and the memory hit me full force. I realized it would soon be time to reveal my biggest secret of all – to tell Thorn my father had murdered my mother in a fit of fucking rage, and made me help him cover it all up, pretending she was bed-ridden for weeks.
I hated him, and I would never stop. Thorn needed to know.
I could feel my limbs going weak but I pushed through, and I kept dancing, my eyes making silent promises to the man of my dreams who sat in the front row, his eyes drinking in every move I made.
Thankfully, I was getting to the end of the first act. In act two, I would transform into the black swan – Odile. I danced my heart out and stayed in my pose as the applause sounded and the curtains closed.
Finally, when Madame rushed out to my side, I let myself collapse and sobbed softly in her arms. And she never let go, just like Mummy wouldn’t have if she’d still been with me.
Twenty-One
Rose
Madame led me into the changing rooms and helped me get my outfit off, changing into the costume I’d wear as the black swan. This time, we avoided the makeup again, but there seemed to be a change going on inside me, something rippling through me and making me feel fearless like never before.
I’d always been submissive. Always a follower, never a leader. But as Madame strapped me into my corset that night, I felt something rising within me, a need to show everyone what I was made of, and a desperate desire to convince not only myself that I could do this, but the whole world as well.
“Madame,” I whispered as he told me to breathe in deeper. “Madame…”
“Come on, just a little more,” she said, tightening the laces. “There we go.”
She didn’t seem to notice the change in my attitude until she came to stand in front of me to check my outfit was in place. Then, her eyes connected with mine, and she seemed to understand what had happened inside my head right away.
“What’s going on?” she asked gently, even though I could tell she already knew there was some sort of turmoil, some kind of situation making me anxious. “Anything I can do to help?”
“I feel…” I started, but realized mid-sentence I had no idea how to finish my thought.
How did I feel?
“Helpless,” I said. “Rushed. Scared. I feel ready.”
She smiled fondly at me and led me to a chair, sitting down opposite me and holding my hands as she began to speak. As she talked, I realized she was a very strong woman. I knew of no one else who could have gone through the hardships she’d dealt with, the horrible loss, the tragic love story that her shaped her into the woman I now knew so well. She was incredible, but as she spoke, I realized I had the very same potential inside me.
“You are at the peak,” she said. “Imagine it as a tall, snowy mountain. Close your eyes, Harlow. *Imagine*.”
I did as she told me. I tried so hard, picturing the highest peak I could imagine, the snow covering the ground, the wind on my face, blowing my hair all over the place. I imagined until I could feel it ruffling my costume, the black feathers dancing in the wind as I stood on the mountain and faced all the elements working against me… or perhaps in my favor.
“You are at the epitome of your life,” Madame said gently. “You are an incredible dancer. Tonight’s performance could place you in any ballet. Anything, everything you’ve ever dreamed of is at the touch of your fingertips. You could have it all now, Harlow. The career you’ve wanted for so long. The fame. The costumes. The music. The dancing… oh, the glorious dancing.”
Her voice was melodic and sweet, lulling me into a false sense of security.
“But there is someone else,” she went on, her voice taking on a darker note. “A figure lurking in the shadows. Someone you know well, yet someone you don’t know at all… And he wants to break you. He wants to own you. He wants you to belong to him. And you feel it too, don’t you, Rose?”
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat with my eyes still closed and feeling Madame’s hand squeeze mine.
“You belong to him,” she went on. “You are his property. But to become his completely, you must choose.”
