Page 34 of The Last Pirouette
“I’m saying…I need space. I need to focus on myself, on my own recovery. I can’t…I can’t be around you right now.”
Harper's simmering grief over her own stagnation boils over into sharp jealousy. She makes the desperate, self-protective decision to push Liam away, believing that the pain of his absence will be less than the constant, agonizing reminder of what she's lost and what he's regaining.
“But…the Showcase,” he stammered. “We’re supposed to be working on the Showcase together. You’re the artistic director!”
“I’ll figure something out,” she said, her voice flat. “I’ll find someone else. Or maybe Dr. Reese can handle it. I don’t know. Just…not me.”
Liam’s optimistic pride in his recovery is shattered by Harper's reaction. He is blindsided and utterly confused, unable to comprehend how his progress could be a source of pain for her. His attempt to share his joy is met with rejection, leaving him feeling hurt and helpless.
He reached out a hand, as if to touch her, but she flinched away.
“Harper, please,” he said, his voice pleading. “Don’t do this. Don’t shut me out.”
She looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the pain in his eyes, the confusion, the hurt. And for a fleeting moment, she regretted her words, regretted the wall she was building between them.
But the regret was quickly overshadowed by the overwhelming need to protect herself, to shield her fragile heart from the constant ache of comparison.
“I’m sorry, Liam,” she said, her voice cold and final. “But I have to.”
And with that, she turned and limped away, leaving him standing alone on the campus green, his face a study in stunned disbelief. Harper didn’t look back.
Each step was agony, not just physically but emotionally. She could feel his eyes on her back, burning a hole through her. She wanted to run, to escape the weight of his gaze, but her body wouldn’t cooperate.
Finally, she reached the sidewalk and turned toward her dorm, her pace quickening slightly. She could still feel him, a presence lingering behind her, but she refused to acknowledge it. She had to do this. She had to protect herself. Even if it meant hurting him.
The afternoon sun seemed to mock her, casting long, accusing shadows in her path. Each shadow was a reminder of her own brokenness, her own limitations.
She reached the dorm building and pushed through the heavy glass doors, the cool, sterile air a welcome relief against her flushed skin. She hurried down the hallway, her crutches echoing against the linoleum floor, each echo a painful reminder of her altered reality.
Finally, she reached her door. She fumbled with her keys, her hands shaking so badly she could barely get the key into the lock. The door swung open, revealing the familiar, sterile confines of her dorm room. It was a small, impersonal space, but it was hers. Her sanctuary. Her prison.
She stepped inside and slammed the door shut behind her, the sound echoing through the small room. She leaned against the door, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her heart pounding in her chest.
She was safe. For now.
Harper locked herself in her dorm room, the silence amplifying the echo of her harsh words. The immediate feeling isn't relief, but a profound and hollow loneliness. She leaned her head against the cold wood of the door, having successfully built a wall to protect her heart, only to find herself trapped alone inside. The chapter ends on the image of her solitary figure, the distance she demanded now a tangible, suffocating presence.
The silence was deafening. It pressed in on her, suffocating her, amplifying the echo of her harsh words. She hadn’t meant to be so cruel, so unforgiving. But the words had just tumbled out of her, a torrent of pain and resentment she couldn’t control.
Now, she was left with the aftermath. A hollow, aching emptiness that stretched out before her like a vast, desolate landscape.
She slid down the door until she was sitting on the floor, her knees drawn up to her chest, her head resting against the cold wood. The immediate feeling wasn’t relief. It wasn’t even anger. It was just a profound and hollow loneliness.
She had done it. She had successfully pushed him away. She had built a wall to protect her heart, a wall so high and so strong that no one could ever get through.
But now, she was trapped on the inside. Alone.
Tears streamed down her face, silent and unbidden. She didn’t even bother to wipe them away. She was alone, and she had no one to blame but herself.
The setting sun cast long shadows across the room, painting the walls with hues of orange and purple. The shadows danced and flickered, mocking her with their fluid, unrestrained movement.
She closed her eyes, trying to block out the images, the sounds, the memories. But they were all there, swirling around her, taunting her with what she had lost.
The silence stretched on, unbroken except for the occasional sob that wracked her body. She was alone. And she was trapped.
The distance she had demanded was now a tangible, suffocating presence, a vast chasm that separated her from the rest of the world. And in that moment, she realized that she had made a terrible mistake.
But it was too late. The wall was built. The door was locked. And she was alone inside.
