Never Again

Nothing here for her now. She pulls off the shoes and throws them to the floor - there's nothing left in this dance. It means nothing; she will never get to where she wants to go, she is nobody, and always will be. There is nothing for her now. She can't do this. Why bother trying?

"Where are you going?"

They call after her. Their voices are her childhood and they mock her for giving in. They are the voices that until now have stopped her from doing this, but she is no longer listening. She will leave, and they will not stop her. They cannot stop her. She refuses to listen.

"Where are you going?"

She has no answer to that question. She only knows one thing - she is not staying here any longer, for she cannot bear to. Every day she lives for this room, and it is living in her. Throughout her life it is constantly on her heart, not something she cares to admit to any of those that ask her 'What is wrong?' She doesn't want to stay any longer. She wants to live her own life.

"Where are you going?"

This time she turns, but she does not look at them. She looks behind them, beyond them, at the huge window through which shines a blistering sun, so bright that it blinds her. "I am going away," she says. "Do not look for me. I will not be coming back here again, I promise you that."

And again, like a broken record, they ask her where. "Where are you going?" They ask her why. They weep - they break down - they tell her that she had a future there, that she could have been brilliant.

"I am not staying any longer."

"But where are you going?"

"I am going away."

"You could have been brilliant ... you were the best of us all, you should stay, we will make you great..."

"There is nothing for me now."

She picks up her bag. Leaves the shoes. They are not important any more. Stands up and walks away, and their voices call to her again. Reaching out. "Where are you going?" She told them she would leave a long time ago, and they did not believe her. Now they see that she was telling the truth.

She pushes through the double doors and walks outside. Air cold on her face. Words reaching towards her, voices like ropes pulling her back. But again she leaves them. Again she ignores them. This is a new life, one she will live without them. They told her that she had nothing, and she believed them. Now they try to take it back, but she is not taken in. It is all lies.

"I cannot dance for you," she says, looking at the building in which she has spent many of her teenage years. Now she is growing up. She makes decisions.

She turns around and looks at the wide open space, at the blue sky and the birds and the butterflies. "I can dance for you," she tells them. "But I won't. I am not going back. I will not take one step and then refuse to take the next. There is nothing for me in dance now."

Do they hear her? They seem puzzled. "I will never dance again," she vows.

The shoes are still inside. They seem to hear her. There is a moment of melancholy that affects all of those still calling out to her; they know she will never come back.

"Never again. Never again. Never again." She wonders if she is the one speaking. Is it an echo, or is it her voice? The words spin around her mind. Never again. "I will never dance again." She thinks of the shoes, but it does not move her. They were a dream that lasted too long. Now she has woken up; now it is morning. She will think of it no longer.

"I will never dance again." She knows it is the truth.

The End

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