His Dancer

✨Flashback✨

"How could you do this to us? To our child?" Jessica yells.

"Don't raise your voice at me woman! I do what I want to. I'm a grown man."

"No, you're a man child who can't settle down without feeling vulnerable. But having a family is vulnerability! But it's worth it Stefan!" She was in tears by now. "We are over. I can't go on with this and Ellie will not be raised around this."

"This? This? What do you mean by this? We are struggling Jessica! It's me who works to put food on the table. So if we are going to split up, that's fine, but I want no contact with that kid of yours! She will probably be just like you."

"It would be better than her being like you. I work hard for my earnings and I stay true to myself and those I love! Unlike you."

That was the last time me or my mother ever saw my father. To be fair, I wasn't even a year old at the time either, so I can't remember his face, only his voice.

Fifteen years later

"Mom you need to let me get a side job, I can help you." I comfort my mother.

"No baby, don't do that. You need to live your life as a teenager, don't worry about becoming an adult yet, childhood is precious. Hopefully I will get a reply about this job tonight. If I get in, maybe in a few years we can get you classes at the studio." She sniffles.

"Don't concern yourself with it momma. Putting food on the table and affording your medical bills are the most important things right now."

"Thank you hunnie." Then, the house phone starts to ring. She stands up and rushes over to it as quickly as she can. "Hello?"

In an attempt to give her some privacy I write a note on a napkin saying I was going to go for a walk and pointed at it to my mom. Then I put on a thin jacket and my worn out boots, and start to go down the sidewalk. I loved being outside, something as simple as walking made me happy. Mom worried to much about me for her status. She works three jobs and is rarely ever home. Everyday she goes to waitress in the morning, clean houses during the daytime, and helps out at care facilities for the sickly at night. I prayed someday she can get a life of her own to enjoy things instead of being so hardworking. I always try to insist and persuade her to let me waitress too, but everytime, she refuses.

Abruptly, a figure who was looking down at their phone crashed into me, sending my small body backwards onto the concrete.

"What the heck!" The person exclaimed. "Why would you do that?"

"I'm sorry." I said, and tried brushing myself off as I stood up. From landing on my leg, it hurt badly putting weight on it. The boy had darker features, brown hair almost black, tanned skin, and a impressive jawline. He appeared young but his eyes were puffy, like he was crying.

"Nevermind it. Just watch out next time." He said frustrated still, and continued walking. I was shocked he didn't ask if I was okay or say sorry.

Returning home earlier than normal due to my leg, I went in the kitchen door. My mom was jumping with joy and smiled widely at me. "I got it hunny! I start tomorrow!" She exclaims.

"That's great mom." I smile and slightly limp over to the sink to get a washcloth and clean out the scratch.

"The thing is, it's a live in job. My pay will be three times my salary now and I can even enroll you in a few months if everything goes well!" Mom says excitedly.

"When will we be moving?"

"Tomorrow morning. So pack everything tonight and we will wake at three to start moving. My shift starts at nine so we will have a few hours to settle in."

"Okay mom." I acknowledge. A gasp escaped my mother once I lifted my pant leg. The 'scratch' was much worse than I thought and the blood stained the inside of my jeans. Retrieving peroxide to clean it out, mom goes to the pantry to also get a large bandage.

"Did you trip hunnie?"

"No, I ran into someone accidentally on the street and fell back. And I landed on my leg." I explained.

"You might've rolled your ankle too baby. How about you ice it awhile and lift it, then we can pack up your room?"

"Okay." Moving to the Studio seemed like it would be a dream, but I wasn't completely sure what would happen while I was there.

Next day @ 830

"That's all our boxes. I have to get ready for my shift but I love you. Don't get into any trouble but you can look around if you'd like." Mom tells me while setting down the last two boxes for the kitchen. Nodding, I give her a reassuring hug. This was a huge thing for us. We finally got out of the crowded trailer we had been in for years.

Once she left, I took it up on myself to unload as much as possible and clean up our new rooms. With the job came a small array of cottages on the back of the property for live in employees. The Studio itself was grand and larger than any building I've seen. It radiated wealth and elegance, almost making me feel out of place.

After cleaning and unpacking majority of the boxes, I decided looking around a little wouldn't hurt. Only five minutes after leaving our new house, I saw a teenage girl who appeared my age working on the garden in the lawn. She was very pretty but looked worn out and exhausted.

"Hey, are you okay?" I ask. She looked up and noticed me finally.

"I'm fine, thank you miss."

"Don't call me that, you're my age. My name is Eliana, what's yours?"

"Stacy. Nice to meet you. Are you one of the ballet students here?"

"No sadly, my mom is a new employee. We just moved in today."

"I'm so sorry." She shook her head.

"Why are you sorry?"

"You'll learn quickly this is not a great working environment. The mistress here is very strict. She never seems to allow anything fun for the employees. It's hard work too."

"Aw, I'm sorry. Isnt the mistress Sarah Hemmings?"

"No, her mother, Beatrice Smitt. She raised Sarah to be the most perfect dancer daughter ever, I heard she never even had a real childhood experience. Her education was private and once Sarah had her son, Beatrice tried to parent him the exact same. Even though his mother was there." Stacy explains. Poor Sarah, I thought. She's been through a lot for her success it seems.

After a few more minutes of chatting, I left Stacy to continue her work and resumed my walk. Curiously, I walked into the studio and began to look around. I came across an empty room with a ballet bar and mirrors. I looked around quick and no one was in the hall so I stepped inside and took off my shoes. I had watched so much dance in my life it was like a dream to be standing here.

As I practiced my plie and positions smoothly, I heard a deep clear of throat and gasped. Letting go of the bar and turning around I was astonished by who it was.