Page 86 of Shattered Souls
He seems to somehow grow in size as he inhales before slowly letting it all out, including his frustration. “You’re right.”
I’m… what?
“I’m sorry. I must have misheard you. Can you repeat that?”
“You’re right,” he says again, this time with a dramatic roll of his eyes.
“I’m sorry.” I fish in the pocket of my oversized hoodie for my phone. “One more time for the camera.”
He snatches it from me before I can record anything. “Don’t be a brat.”
Instead, I grin at him. “Now, where would the fun in that be?”
“Are you going or what?” he huffs.
I raise my hands in a fake show of surrender. “I’m going, I’m going.” Ducking out of the room, I climb the stairs to the first floor where Ava’s office is located, along with some storage space and a smaller studio she hasn’t had the chance to fit out yet.
Tapping my knuckles against the door, I wait for her to call out before ducking my head in. “Hey, you got a moment?”
“Riley!” She’s already waving me into the room as she moves out from behind her desk. The second I’m through the door, she pulls me in for a hug. “I’ve been worried about you.”
“How’s Izzy?” I deflect before she can ask me anything about the shitstorm that is my life.
The look Ava gives me says she knows exactly what I’m doing before she moves to sit on the narrow sofa stuffed into one corner of her small office. It’s intended for Isabella to have somewhere to sit and work while she’s here, but we’ve had a number of in-depth conversations here before and after a session in the studio.
“She’s good. She’s absolutely loving Hot Shot Huskies, although I’ve noticed a certain hockey player has been MIA recently.” I can tell from the bumping of her eyebrows that she’s teasing. “Is that thefriendyou’ve been staying with?”
“Yeah. Him, Royce, and Grayson.”
“That sounds… cozy.” I give her a weak smile, fiddling with the strings of my hoodie. Noticing, Ava tilts her head, watching me. “You wanna talk about it?”
“Not really,” I admit, grateful when she accepts that answer without question. “There is something I do need to tell you, though. I, uh, have a daughter. She’s three—well, nearly four now. She’s been… She, erm, doesn’t live with me at the minute, and honestly, it’s been hard being away from her, which is why I never said anything, but I’m, uh, trying to get her back, and well, I thought you should know.”
It all comes out as a rambling mess, but somehow, Ava manages to piece her way through it. By the time I’m done, her eyebrows practically hit her hairline as she gapes at me.
“That’s… a lot.” Leaning forward, she rests her hand on my knee. “I’m so sorry you’re going through all of that. While I don’t know exactly what you’re going through—and I don’t need to—I know I’d be a mess if Izzy’s dad decided to fight for custody.” Her other hand claps her chest, over her heart. “Not seeing her every day would kill me.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “That’s what it feels like.”
“Oh, Ry, I’m so sorry!” She’s hugging me a moment later, and it feels as though a weight has been lifted off my chest. Even though I haven’t shared half of what’s actually going on, just sharing my daughter’s existence with someone who has become a friend feels freeing.
“Anyway,” I say, sniffling. “I thought I’d come to work out some of those feelings in the dance studio, if that’s alright with you?”
“Absolutely! I have a class in an hour, but the studio is all yours until then.”
She’s already ushering me out the door, and I call a thank you before descending the stairs, feeling a million times lighter than I did when I arrived.
Standing in a simple black leotard and flowing, sheer skirt that sways with my every move, I can feel Grayson’s eyes on me. Leg warmers hug my calves, while ballet slippers allow my feet to glide effortlessly across the floor.
The opening notes ofElastic Heartby Sia reverberate through the air and infuse my skin before I gracefully extend my arms, letting the music guide me.
My movements are fluid yet purposeful, each a cathartic release as I glide across the floor. The fabric of my skirt flows around me as I execute a pirouette. My body spins as if trying to shed the confusion and betrayal that cling to me. As devastating as it is knowing Aurora is trapped with Bertram, at least I understand his actions. However, my mother—the woman who should have protected me—tried to end my life. It’s a fact I won’t ever wrap my mind around, and the thought alone makes my heart ache. Yet here, in this moment, I can face it.
Still, the reality of her actions leaves me reeling, struggling to comprehend how any mother could harbor such malice toward her own child. I leap into the air, my legs splitting in agrand jeté, feeling the freedom in the height and the fall, the temporary escape from the weight of reality. Landing softly, I transition into a series of graceful arabesques, my arms reaching out as if trying to touch the peace I find elusive.
I feel the conflict within me, the love and hate intertwined. My mother’s selfishness, her narcissism, is a poison I’ve been desperate to purge for years. I spin again, faster this time, my arms wrapping around myself, a shield against the world. How could she? The woman who gave me life trying to take it away?Knowing she actually wentout of her wayto end my life—it’s a bitter pill to swallow.
Abandoning ballet’s rigidity, I let my body fall into a series of controlled rolls and spirals, embracing chaos. Each movement is a conversation with my pain, my anger, and my grief.
