“I think so, too. I want us to be closer.” I’m only saying this because I’m leaving tonight. If Vik found out, she’d be furious I was leaving so she’d have to deal with Boris.
“I don’t know how,” she admits.
“That’s ok. I just want us to enjoy our dance for tonight.” Since it’ll probably be the last time I ever dance on a stage again.
“Me, too.”
The curtains rise, and we begin.
Our dance tells the story of two women lost in the woods. They have to work together to get out of the woods—otherwise, they’ll die. In the end, Vik’s character ends up dying, and I cry over her dead body. It’s another dramatic story. Celine really loves them.
There’s a big move during the dance. Vik has to lift me. It’s normally performed by a man, but Celine really wanted the story between two women. Since Vik is the taller of us, she has to do the heavy lifting. Trust me, she wasn’t happy when Celine told her she’d be doing the lift. Vik felt like it made her the man, but she sucked it up. Ballet is everything to Vik.
My eyes catch Boris in the front row. He’s waiting to marry me the moment the show is over. It distracts me while I dance.
So far, Vik and I have been gliding across the floor, showing the story of the women lost in the woods through our bodies.
And then we get to the lift. I run forward, and Vik grabs my waist, and then I’m in the air, higher than I’ve ever been.
Until it all comes crashing down. Vik drops me, and I slam onto the floor. That is definitely not a part of the show. I can hear the crowd murmuring in concern.
But as I go down, so does Vik.
Her ankle bends under her, and I hear a snapping sound. The scream of pain that escapes her will forever haunt my soul. I sit up and turn to my sister. She’s lying on her side, crying, cradling her knee to her chest. Her ankle is bent at an awkward angle.
It’s clearly broken.
A ballet dancer can’t have a broken ankle. That’s the end of her career.
Celine and a few other dancers rush onto the stage as the curtain falls, blocking the crowd’s view of us.
“Call an ambulance!” Celine says. “Viktoryia?”
Vik only cries harder.
“I’m here,” I tell her. “I’m here.”
“Get away!” she screams, pushing my hands away. “You did this to me! You did this to me!”
I stand up and back away. Vik’s in a serious amount of pain. She doesn’t need me making it worse.
And then a thought passes through me. In the commotion, I can make my escape. Everyone is looking at Vik. I’ve become invisible again.
I slowly back away from Vik and everyone else, and once I’m far enough away from the stage, I bolt. I don’t even bother changing out of my tutu and ballet shoes. I just know I have to run.
I make it outside and spot our car, John leaning against it, smoking a cigarette.
And then I’m being grabbed around the waist and hauled backward. Boris’s meaty hands grip my hips.
“You didn’t think you could run from me, did you? I said we’re getting married, and that’s exactly what we’re doing.”
Before I can call out for John, Boris presses his hand over my mouth and drags me to his car.
Chapter
Three
VIKTORIYA
The pain is excruciating as I lay on the stage floor, waiting for the paramedics to arrive. I can’t even look at my ankle. I can just tell it’s bad.
My ballet career is over. It’s hard to come back from a broken ankle, but I’ll try. I’m not the type of woman to give up.
“It’s ok. It’s ok,” Celine is repeating over and over again.
“Will you shut up?” I grit out.
She sits back on her heels. “Sorry.”
I’m surrounded by the other dancers, and it’s too much. Normally, I love the attention, but right now, I’m humiliated.
“Where’s Sofiya?” I ask, looking around. My eyes land on Mila, who’s hovering beside me. “Where’s Sofiya?”
Mila shrugs. “I’m not sure. Don’t worry about her right now. Just focus on yourself. You’re in pain.” She presses her hand to my forehead, and I smack it away.
“I don’t have a cold, Mila. I have a broken fucking ankle.”
Mila blinks, and then her eyes water, making me feel terrible.
