This Story Has ATwist
chapter one;
Mello balanced on her toes, eyes closed, praying she didn’t fall. Except, maybe – maybe it would be better that way. Falling. You know, the rush of air, a loud crash, pain shooting up her spine, through her head, enveloping her, and a split second later – just nothing. Nothing at all. Ever again. What if it was better that way? She didn’t understand why – at least, that was what she told herself. Secretly, beneath it all, she knew why she kept thinking like this. It was the pressure. It was bearing down on her, like the ceiling was crashing, crushing her slowly. She closed her eyes. The balance beam was sagging under her weight. It was old, slightly brittle. Whenever she got up on it, she could see the instructors biting their lips, praying it didn’t break and they didn’t get a lawsuit filed against them.
Swallowing, she lifted herself up, onto the tip of her toes; arms outstretched gracefully, head tilted up at an arrogant angle. Her mouth went very dry. The pain in her toes was slowly blooming, creeping its way up her ankles and into her calves. And, all at once, she collapsed, her body falling off the beam, and resting on the hard blue mat underneath it. There was a collective intake of breath from the many people in the room. Sharp pain shot through her feet, but she embraced it almost lovingly. She peeled herself off the ground and got back onto her feet. "Again," ordered her instructor, and so Mello hoisted herself back onto the beam. She repeated the step four times before the instructor had finally had enough. Mello had set her face in stone. She wouldn’t give the instructor the satisfaction. Though really, it was just adding to the brick wall of pressure set horizontally on her shoulders. Maybe that was why she was so short.
"She can paint a lovely painting but this story has a twist-
her paintbrush is her razor and her canvas is her wrist." ♥
teeninlove_stories