Page 35 of Scarred

It’s after midnight. What is she doing there that late? Does she know she’s on camera?

Taking a towel, she pats her chest and neck, the sheen of sweat obvious on her skin. She’s wearing a cropped black top that sits just under her breasts. The sleeves are long, hooking over her thumbs and covering her palms. Black tight shorts end the outfit as my eyes trail down to her bare feet and back up again. Her hair is in a low bun, exposing her slender neck to the camera.

Part of me feels like a stalker, and I should turn it off, but the greedy part of me can’t stop looking and wants more.

Walking over to her phone, she restarts the music and gets into position in the middle of the dance floor. When the notes start to play again, her body becomes alive. I watch mesmerized as she breathes life into the dance.

The music is haunting, and it’s as if her body is telling a story of loss and heartache. I can’t explain what I’m watching, but I feel the pain through every movement…every expression on her face brings you deeper into the rawness of it all.

When she curls up into a ball on the floor, I feel my heart thudding loudly in my chest as I watch hers rise and fall rapidly from the sheer strength that must have taken to perform what I just witnessed.

The music changes suddenly to something softer as her body awakens again. The movements are lighter this time, her face more softened and carefree. It’s as if…

I swallow the lump in my throat and watch her face beam with a happiness that I haven’t felt in so long that I almost forgot what it felt like.

It’s as if this whole dance is about me or what should be.

But, that’s impossible, right? It’s just a dance.

Yet, I feel it.

The torment and pain clashing in every movement she danced, wanting to bring you under. Her body is fighting against it until she finally collapses and lets it all go.

The rebirth.

Finding the strength to let joy and happiness in again, even when it’s terrifying.

She ends the dance with a beautiful leap before her arms open wide as if she’s waiting for someone, then finally close as she hugs herself.

Her breathing is rapid as she stands in the middle of the dance floor, putting a hand to her chest. My breath stops as her gaze lifts to the camera. Her eyes stare directly into mine, and something shifts inside me.

Something broken begins to slightly mend, but what scares me the most is what is scarred into my heart slowly begins to heal.

TWELVE

LUNA

I stare at the camera, my chest heaving from exhaustion. Goosebumps appear on my skin, and I rub my arms to stop the thrill that just flooded my body.

I feel him.

I shake my head at the absurdity that he could be watching me and drop my gaze.

I feel him because that whole dance was about him.

Lying in bed earlier, I couldn’t stop thinking about him, and I got inspired. His whole story came alive in my head through dance. Not being able to wait, I drove here and have been working on it for the past two hours.

It’s not the first time I haven’t been able to sleep and find myself here.

Walking over to my phone, I stop the music and turn off the live feed that I recorded so I can watch it later and study my techniques.

A text pops up, and I grin when I see Connor’s name.

Connor

Are you awake?

Deciding to call him instead, so I can talk to him while I drive home. I dial his number and listen to the ring while I gather my things.