I look over at him. “I need your help.”
55
VIOLET
My head pounds. When I work up the nerve to crack my eyes open, I find myself in a bedroom. The bed is made underneath me, a small nightstand next to my head. There are no windows, just a single lamp on a dresser on the opposite wall. There’s one exit, the wood door closed, and a rocking chair takes up the additional space. It makes everything a bit cramped, like this room wasn’t supposed to exist.
It immediately gives me the creeps.
I sit up slowly, eyeing the glass of water on the nightstand. A clinking draws my attention to my ankle.
A padded cuff is locked on my leg, a chain snaking from it down over the foot of the bed. It rattles when I move, the links knocking against each other.
I’m so fucked.
I touch my head, convinced I must be cut open or have a lump the size of Alabama from the way it aches and pulses. But there’s nothing. Just a lack of oxygen to thank, I guess. I swing my legs over the bed, my toes touching a scratchy rug, and the chain falls to the floor.
I flinch.
Footsteps immediately pound overhead. I count out the seconds and make it to twelve before the door opens.
Mia steps into the space, looking around, then at me. She seems angry for some reason. I open my mouth, but she strides forward and smacks me. Her palm collides with my cheek, and my head whips to the side.
Blood fills my mouth.
I grab the cup of water and spit into it. A glob of saliva and blood immediately dissipates, turning the water pink.
“You disrespectful slut,” Mia says, leaning into me. She grabs me by my hair, cranking my head back. “After all I’ve done for you?”
I don’t answer. Can’t, really.
She releases me and backs up quickly, then goes to the dresser. She pulls items out, setting them on top of it. Her body blocks them.
“Get dressed,” she finally says, then leaves. The door slams behind her.
I rise and see what she’s given me, and my heart drops.
Pointe shoes, a black leotard. That’s it.
She can’t be serious.
Not with this chain around my leg anyway.
And then I notice the small key sitting beside the pointe shoes. I go for that first, fitting it into the padlock hole. It fits perfectly and clicks when I twist it. The padlock opens, and I yank the cuff off. I toss it in the corner and tuck the key in my sports bra… just in case.
Not sure a detail like that would get past her, but I’ve got to try. Right?
Right.
Anyway, currently I’m just trying to survive… and I think that means I need to go along with what she says. I check the door just to be sure, but it rattles in place.Locked.
So I quickly shed my clothes and pull on the leotard. It fits like a glove, softer than any of mine. Better quality maybe? And twice as expensive. Then the pointe shoes… which appear to bemine. The ones I painstakingly prepared a week ago, that I’ve been rehearsing in forSleeping Beauty. They’re almost at the end of their life, but still have another few days in them.
My best guess anyway.
I sit back on the bed with my pointe shoes in my lap. I don’t relish the thought of trying to escape while wearing these. If it came to it, though, it would be better than barefoot.
I shudder. Cutting up the bottom of my feet is low on the list of things I want to endure. Although, that opinion might change when I find out what Mia wants from me.