Page 42 of Frozen Hearts
Different warm breath.
Someone else’s raspy voice.
Not real. Not real. Not real.
My eyes slam shut as the acidic burn of vomit floods my mouth. It takes everything in me to regulate my breathing and not lose my shit.
Breathe in; bleed out.
I survived.
I survived.
I survived!
I manage to pull myself back from the edge of a full-on panic attack, but I’m still nowhere near calm. My thoughts are clear enough to remind myself that, despite Ben being the one at fault here, I can’t afford to freak out and lose this job. The sad fact is, I need the money, and doing something impulsive like pulverizing his balls is a surefire way to get myself fired.
“I could help you.” His voice slicks like oil against my skin, leaving a sticky residue behind that will need a scalding-hot shower to remove.
Panic seizes me. It renders me immobile. Mute. Frozen as I fight to quash it.
My throat is so dry, my brain feels scrambled. Words are impossible.Breathingis impossible.
I have no response. No reaction.
Misinterpreting my silence, he chuckles, his warm breath nauseating against my skin. His hand grazes my hip before he moves away.
I still don’t breathe. Don’t dare to look until I hear his office door snick shut. Then it’s like the bow holding me upright snaps, and my body sags forward, air gushing out of me as tears track silently down my face. My hands are shaking so badly, and the absolute last thing on my mind is my job as I drop the cloth and race from the club.
Despite the late hour, I walk home in a fog, stripping out of my clothes and crawling beneath the covers, where I cry myself to sleep.
I cry for the girl I used to be. For the shell of her that I have become. For all the broken parts of me that were once whole yet savagely stolen. Taken against my will. The fractured pieces that are irreparably damaged.
I do a good job of convincing the world—of convincing myself—that I’m okay. But it’s in moments like this; at times like tonight, when I remember just how fragile I am. How close I am, at any given moment, to shattering.
I tell myself I survived, but some days it feels as if I’m still living in hell. Regardless of the time that has passed or the work I have put in, my heart is still one giant wound laced with scars that have not fully healed.
I try so hard to be strong. I have no other choice. But on days like today, on nights like tonight, I allow myself to be weak. To break. To cry. To scream at the injustice in the world.
So, I hide beneath my covers where no one can see my tears, unleashing all my carefully compartmentalized pain for only me to hear.
* * *
I sleep restlessly, every moment plagued with nightmares until I give up trying shortly before dawn breaks. I have a ton of assignments that I need to work on, but my head isn’t in the right place to achieve anything productive. Instead, I pull my hair into a high pony, throw on an oversized hoodie and leggings, then grab my keys and walk out the door.
The street is quiet this early in the morning, the yellow-orange of the street lights shining like fireflies in the soft blues and dark purples of pre-dawn as I walk down the street to the small, rundown dance studio.
As I reach the entrance, a sense of peace washes over me and I unlock the door, pushing it open. The studio is empty and silent as I flick on the lights, and I smell the faint scent of lemon cleaner as I move through the room, tracing the lines of the wooden floor.
I don’t get to come here often, but on days when I feel as exposed and vulnerable as I do today, I’m eternally grateful for the private space that feels more like home to me than my own apartment.
Taking off my shoes, I wiggle my bare toes against the cool floor and take a few minutes to warm up my muscles.
Once I feel loose enough, I connect my phone to the Bluetooth speaker and scroll through my playlist until I find the perfect song for how I’m feeling.Fearlessby UNSECRET and Ruby Amanfu begins to play as I move into the center of the room.
As I take a deep breath, I close my eyes and willingly surrender myself to the melody of the track. With every passing chord, the world slips away. The song is about strength. About recognizing your scars and still having the courage to face your fears. Each chorus cuts deeper as my body leads me in a dance across the room, arms stretched and legs extending.
With every arabesque, I shed myself of fear. I banish the shadows with each twist of my core and toss aside the nightmares with every pirouette. I hemorrhage over the floor with each passing beat, the music ripping me apart until nothing remains. Until I'm an empty vessel, drained of emotion. Only then, when I've been hollowed out and carved anew, do I begin building myself back up. I piece myself together, one fragment at a time, until the lyricsyou won't breakare stitched into the fabric of my being.
