Prologue
The lights. The crowd. The roar of applause. It ignited something deep in me—an old instinct, awakened by the beating part of me dancing across the ice. The rink dazzled its snowish beauty like a siren, calling my name, daring me to chase the dream again.
“Elizabeth Woods.” My name echoed through the arena, too loud, too final. I took a breath and pushed forward, blades kissing the ice. My heart pounded so loudly I wondered if the judges could hear it.
Don't fall. Don’t freeze. Just skate. Panic gripped me inside, threatening to engulf me like a torturous flame, but I refused to ruin my performance all because of my tendency to over-think.
The music hadn’t played yet, but I was already poised like a bird—arms outstretched gracefully. My blonde hair, normally so out of place, was tied into a smooth bun. The black leotard that covered a large portion of my body lay still, waiting for the performance’s movement to rustle it across my gaze.
My piercing blue gaze skimmed the crowd quickly, finally landing on its destination.
My mother, with her tightened brown hair, and warm caramel eyes - she kept smiling at me, as if wanting to exhibit her pride in front of everyone. I glanced at my father, who was sitting right next to her.
He was dressed smartly, in his sleek black suit and white button-up shirt. Despite his frazzled light brown hair, my dad could be classed as one of the handsomest of his age group. There was a sense of elegance on his uptight facial expression, but his matching blue eyes glimmered with excitement.
And of course, my brother wasn't there. His steel grey eyes, and coarse hair couldn’t be found on the audience. But i wasn't surprised, we don't exactly have the best relationship. He himself said that he wouldn’t be caught dead attending one of my performances. Too cheesy for his taste.
I shook the thoughts from my head, as I prepared for the music to start. I took the time to create a mental image of my routine. Every move had to be calculated, precise, executed perfectly that it would leave people at the edge of their seats. But I would have to raise the difficulty if I wanted to qualify for the National Championship.
‘It is all or nothing.’ My coach’s voice echoed through my mind. But I didn't have time to look for her in the audience, because suddenly the music ebbed on like a chorus that came alive from the melody and I had to begin. Turning into a swan was easy once one grappled with the physical changes that came with figure skating.
But all that went through my mind as I glided across the ice, was the triple axel I would have to land flawlessly in order to score. So much pressure rested on one performance. It made giving my best even harder.. Racing around the rink, I began to pick up speed, swaying my snow-white ice skates rhythmically.
Why did I always feel like I was one mistake away from losing everything?
Just once, I wanted to skate for myself. Not for medals. Not to make up for missing pieces in my family. Not to be the girl with perfect spins and perfect scores.
Just me. Elizabeth. On ice. Free.
The noise, the thrill of the audience’s beating applause exhilarated me. Extending one leg out, I transformed into something else entirely. The sky was the limit, and I became a creature of delicate sensibility, one who knew no bounds when it came to gesticulating my profound love for skating.
Dazzling them with my spins was only the beginning, and already the swoons started etching into my heart, wooing my racing pulse into a swaying beat. Slowing down slightly, the world began to echo around me, as my camel spin took control, one leg broached backwards and a smile dipped onto my concentrated face.
Skating backwards was a whole different level, the adrenaline kicked in; whirling across my whole body as I extended my arms, balancing my poise with confidence. In the corner of my peripheral vision, I registered Anaïs’s dirty look, that she was shooting from across the railing.
I will beat her and finally prove that the last spot belongs to me I thought confidently. Within a 3 minute performance, I would be the one to strike out and win it all. No one would take this opportunity away from me. Gliding backwards was a pivotal step towards the centre stage.
I became the swan. My arms swept like wings across the frozen lake, the crowd blurring as I lost myself in the illusion. I glided across the air, with my outstretched limbs, displaying the full extent of my powerful figure. No words could capture the way I moved across the ice, simply that I was a graceful creature of powerful etiquette and a slim physique.
Spiralling, I allowed my leg to jut out into a 45 degree angle, as I slid across the ice rink. The audience’s powerful silence captivated by the diligence of my nature. There was ne’er a moment on that stage where charm wasn’t used.
Raking the frosty ground with precision, spinning like an eagle mid-flight, opening up a mirage of illusion, I released the full capacity of my black dress. It awarded a grand applause, but that didn’t stop me from continuing the splendorous ensemble. Perched on top of the arena, I decided which course would be best to take.
I lunged, launching a grandiose mannerism with my pale, slender legs. I could feel the ice scraping against my knee, as I puffed out my chest, tilting my face towards the audience, releasing a smile of pride. Because that was what ran through my veins.
Immense pride.
Approaching the end of the routine, I heaved a gentle sigh. Doing a back cross-over was a mark that signalled the coming of the triple axel. It terrified me suddenly. My memory was clear, the last training didn’t go well when I tried to land it without support. How could I do it now?
Even when I went into my hydro-blade trick, my focus was elsewhere. Pressure. The pressure of constantly having to be perfect, not a single stray blonde hair out of place. Stomach in, shoulders down, never show any sign of weakness. That was what I was taught all my life.
My foot wobbled. I hesitated, just for a second—but it was enough. My throat tightened. What if I couldn’t do this? I slid one last round across the rink before approaching the centre, lifting one leg gently in preparation. How did it all go wrong? All I remember, was swinging my leg forward into an axel spin and the next…
The world careened.
I heard nothing but the astonished gasp of the audience, the ice coming to meet my skin in a forceful crack. Blackness engulfed my vision. My only notion of being alive, was getting lifted up by a pair of strong, burly hands.
That’s how it all began.
