Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

demi-plié to find my balance, I rose up to en pointe onto my
toes and back down again.
I should have had more of a warm up, but I was suddenly
nervous. Maybe because the last time he saw me dance I didn’t
know he was watching or because I still wasn’t sure if he was
going to slit my throat or not.
“Track seven,” I called out, my voice shaking a little.
“Could you find it, please?”
I heard him move across the room as he did what I asked,
and I wished I was dressed. The situation being what it was, I
couldn’t believe I was worried about that, but I only had on
my sleep shorts, a tank top, and no damn bra.
Ellie GGoulding’s sonorous humming and chanting finally
started, low and faint at first, but grew stronger, and I walked
slowly around the dance floor, making a casual circle and
getting a feel. I had only played around with choreography on
this track once, and I couldn’t remember it, so I guessed I was
winging it.
The music built, haunting and crawling inside my skin, and
then her voice gave in to lyrics, echoing and layered with
chants as the drums started.
My pulse started to beat harder, and I closed my eyes,
marking the tape on the floor in my head as I grazed over it
and started moving. I hit the beat, rolling my head, shooting up
on my toes, and twirling in a circle, feeling the music.
I forgot about him, and all of my teachers who complained
about my technique, and just slipped into my own world where
I craved the feel of my body slicing through the air and my
hands in my hair and on my neck.
My back arched as I swung into an attitude, and I felt my
heart leap in my chest when I twirled and posed in an
arabesque. I smiled, biting down on my bottom lip to stifle the
laugh I wanted to let loose. I spun and bent and dipped and
slithered through whatever I wanted to do, just letting the
music tell me.