Page 14 of Obsessed with Her

I hear a noise behind me, and I turn, feeling my heart take a gentle leap. Part of the dressing room is in shadow, a clothes rack positioned there, and it gives me a somewhat sinister impression.

I shake my head, thinking I'm a fool.

Of course, it's my nervousness about the premiere heightening my senses and making me see things that don't exist. That is the only possible explanation for the feeling I'vehad of being watched everywhere I've gone since moving back to New Orleans.

Unable to control myself, I look back towards the clothes rack, and just like when I was a child and imagined there was a monster under my bed, I feel a shiver of fear.

Stop it, Serenity!I say to myself.Go over there and put an end to this stupid fear once and for all.

I take two steps towards the shadows in the dressing room, telling myself that I'm not a coward, but suddenly I feel like two pieces of clothing are moving, as if there's a sudden gust of wind.

Except there can't be. There are no windows here, and the room is heated.

My God, what is happening to me? I know that outside I have the security guards designated by the Greek taking care of me. They accompany me wherever I go without the slightest embarrassment.

Mr. Van Lith sent me a warning about them, which only made me even more upset with this man, Ares Kostanidis. He puts me under surveillance and doesn't even bother to talk to me about it?

I got a shock when I went to the University of New Orleans campus and suddenly noticed three giants following me at a close distance, as if I were some kind of celebrity.

I had to go to college this week to enroll. Before returning to the United States, I applied for a performing arts course. Not because I was particularly interested in pursuing the profession but because I imagined that was what my parents would have expected of me: that I go to college.

After a few days with Madam Villatoro, however, I realized that it would be impossible to combine a university course with studying professional ballet.

And then, I realized that if I forced myself to do that, I would be failing to live my dreams to fulfill others' dreams, even if those “others” were my deceased parents.

It was the first adult decision that I can remember making. I chose to dedicate myself to ballet without distractions.

I hear two knocks on the door, and seconds later, without waiting for a response, my mentor enters.

"You need to stretch a little more," she says, and her voice sounds rough, but I know it's because she’s tense too. At first, I was intimidated by her, but I soon understood that it wasn't personal. She has a powerful voice, which contrasts with the small and delicate body that our profession requires.

From behind, anyone could confuse the two of us. We have the same physical build and abundant, wavy brown hair, and neither of us are tall.

Unlike me, however, who most of the time fluctuates between introspection and a compassion acquired through the excellent education I received, she can be quite frightening at times.

I've seen dance school teachers tremble at just one look from her.

I'm about to open my mouth to tell her that if I move one more muscle before going on stage, they will possibly explode inside my skin, as I strictly followed all the orders she gave me for today. However, I only need to look at her to realize that she is waiting for this: the rebellion, the revolt against the hard training.

“Complaining about pain is for the weak,”she often says.“Those who aim for excellence have to get used to pain, to make sure they are on the right path.”

I swallow the words of protest. I'm not here to argue—I'm here to be the best—so I head towards the door, following her, without saying anything.

Before leaving the dressing room, however, I take one last look back at the sinister rack that scared me seconds ago.

There is nothing there, I tell myself.Why would anyone come after you, you fool? Most people barely know you exist.

For now.

They don't know me yet, but soon my name will be known worldwide.

Smiling and feeling more confident, I follow my mentor.

The Evil

CHAPTER EIGHT

I like to observe.

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