BOUND TO HIM BY FORCE

38. ON MY TOES PART I

“ Here are your pointee shoes Ma’am, they are ready to use as requested.” Lox , my driver said.

He was the only constant in my staff. I did not even bother with the assistants anymore. I gave them no work, it was a way of me screaming to Azrail that I did not need them. I did not want them anymore, yet each morning came another one, the last one disposed of. At that point it seemed as if he was doing it just to spite me, just to rub it to my face that he could kill people.

“ Thank you Lox.” I said to him, with him stepping aside as I slipped out of the car, taking the box he held out for me.

He closed the door then turned to escort me to the car that waited for me as always, like clockwork.

The night had long passed, having worked all through and I just knew it was past twelve.

The door to the car in the middle of the convoy was opened with me stepping in, the door closing the world away and locking me in hell. I did not know which I preferred more, being out there and trying my best to make no mistakes or being suffocated with him and just waiting for the day he would snap. He seemed unstable and he had made me unstable too. My thoughts were as dark and cold as my heart. I felt no warmth at all, the world swallowing me whole and nothing helped.

I tried exercising but even it could not take the stress away. I felt as if I was standing on an edge, just waiting for the courage to jump off and end it all.

The shoes I held were my last hope. If they did not work, I did not know what I would do.

I sat back like I always did, my head on the head rest and it was the only time I could just close my eyes and let everything float away. The darkness covered me away, hiding me from the monster besides me, depending on how far the house we would lodge in was that day. I was getting sick and tired of walking into a new house every single day, no constant in my life, flying all over the country. He really had to make a clinic specifically for me where I could clog in to see a therapist every now and again.

Did he know how depressing getting married to him was? Did he know that it had me wanting to end it all just because of him? Did he know that he was driving me crazy?

The car stopped and I nearly screamed out because my peace would end just as the door opened and there was no way it was not opening.

The light and cold breeze flooded through as the door opened.

My eyes opened, my body turning.

My bag and box were in hand, walking out as the door closed behind me. I did not even stare at the beauty of the houses anymore, just went straight to the bedroom where I took off my clothes.

He went straight to shower as always.

I moved about the closet in my underwear to pull out leggings, those that could hook to the foot. A black pair was found so I pulled them up. I walked further in as I took off my bra and threw it in the laundry bin. A black body suit was picked up with me wearing it, then bringing the waist band of the tights over it.

I could not even wait. I was full to the brink with frustration. I could not even think, feeling as if I would die if I did not do anything.

I wore slippers then walked out of the closet to take up the box I set on the bed along with my iPad and Airpods, which I slipped in my ears immediately. I had downloaded the music during the day, having already waited too long for the moment. I rushed down the steps as if being chased by a hungry fire. My eyes looked left and right, trying to find a proper room I could use. I opened doors, the bedrooms useless to me since they did not have the large space I needed. When all the other rooms were ruled out, I went to the living room. It was connected to the dining room, so it had so much space.

The volume on my gadget was put on blast, the loudest, drowning everything away. I began pushing away all the couches, all the furniture away. I pushed it all out of the way to one corner, opening so much space, more than I would have hoped for. The floor looked clean but I would not risk it.

My feet moved, rushing to the kitchen in search of a broom and I found it. I began sweeping the floor with not even dust shown, satisfied with the condition of the room.

I put the broom away then bent down to open the box Lox had given me. I pushed up the paper covering my shoes before pulling them out. I saw that they had tried bending them for me so I could just use them. My slippers were taken off as I slipped on the pointee shoes. I tied the ribbons just as I had been taught since I had been three.

Dancing had always been a great part of me until I stopped five years ago. I had been good, but I could never advance to great. Everyone said I had such great potential until they stopped, because potential is useless if not able to be converted to the thing you have potential in.

My legs were bent, the shoes felt weird on my feet. I stood straight to test them, moving about. I did not even know where to start as the music flowed all through my blood. I stretched first, then began doing just the basics until I was comfortable enough.

I could feel the anger just babbling in my chest. I could feel it roar, so I began moving. I danced as if they had pointed a gun at my head. I jumped in ways I had never before because this time I was not afraid. This time I was not afraid of falling and breaking my legs. This time I was not afraid of falling and breaking my neck. I let my body flow, let it bend in whichever direction it wanted me to. The anger had my kicks sharp and fast, my body more flexible and I bent over backwards as if to break my spine, bending until I heard it pop but moved straight again to jump high, doing a triple spin in the air, then stretching my front to let it hit the floor. I span all around the room in a circle to stop and pull my left leg up straight while my right pivoted. My upper body bent backwards as my hands touched the floor, then I began spinning, rising up and back down with each spin until I felt as if my brain would slip out of my mouth.

I never stopped, moving faster and higher over and over again in different styles that I never would have even attempted before. I rose to the occasion and danced until I was wet with nothing but sweat.

I could feel the shoes cut my skin, feel the skin burn as if alcohol poured over the opened wounds, but I never stopped. I just kept going, my stomach feeling as if it was folding itself in. I did not care the state I would be in the next day, but as of then I was not stopping. I could not feel anything but the pain and I could not think of anything else besides the pain. My body span around, seeing a shadow, but I did not pay much mind to it.

I just kept moving and moving until I stopped. My body bent over, gagging, yet I held the saliva in. My insides were as if on fire, the room spinning all around me with me stumbling forward and back.

I had taken it too far, I had finally taken it too far. My hands quickly pulled off the ribbons to pull off the shoes and my feet were bleeding. My toes were no better, the pain excruciating. The music was suddenly too much, taking off the Airpods with them falling to scatter on the floor, not caring if I broke them.

I could not even breathe, wet and tired, yet my body froze with eyes wide as gun shots echoed all over the air.

My body stood up straight, frowning with more and more sounding.

They were coming from outside and it meant only one thing.

My feet moved with caution as I went over to the window where I tipped it just a little to peer through. My eyes scanned around and the first thing I saw was that the cars were not in the yard. The shadow then came back to me.

That bastard had left me.