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   Chapter 21 NO.21

Nobody's Angel By TaraLynn217 Characters: 17134

Updated: 2018-01-26 18:48


One day. 24 hours. 1, 440 minutes. 86, 400 seconds. It doesn't seem like a lot of time, but it really is when you're on your toes the whole time. And when you're in very revealing clothes. The best I had been able to do today was a pair of dark blue jean short-shorts and a light green tube top. Seth requested that I wear a huge onyx necklace, too, and a bracelet, anklet, and earrings. I still refused to wear the ring, even though he offered it almost every day.

I had gotten my casts off only yesterday, and they felt as good as new. Despite fearing what Seth was going to do, I was hoping- just a little bit- that he would do something soon so I could just stop worrying so much. Of course, Elena and Cassie were in the same boat as me.

Honestly, I thought I was really getting the short end of the stick, though. Colton and Cody loved my best friends, and vice versa. They wouldn't do anything too bad to each other. Seth, however, didn't have to worry about me overreacting or anything because, really, the only thing I could do was break up with him, and we'd still be living in the same house. Elena or Cassie could call off a flipping engagement if they wanted to. I didn't even want to think about how much courage it took Colton or Cody to actually ask them, not to mention how bad it would be if they had to ask them again…

Cautiously, I peeked around the corner of my dance room before entering, closing the door behind me. Taking a wary look around and deeming the coast clear, I allowed a smile to spread across my face, teeth and all. I did a tiny happy dance before making a mad dash for the stereo, typing in the first thing that came to mind, which was Under a Paper Moon by All Time Low.

Struck by realization, I went to the dressing room. Smirking in satisfaction when I saw the clothes untouched, I quickly dressed in black spandex - I know, but they really were the easiest and most comfortable to move in when dancing- and a comfortable, flexible shirt. Since I was eager to use my legs again, I threw caution to the wind and danced the hardest genre I knew how to do: pure, honest kick line.

To get accustomed to being on my feet again, I went back and forth across the floor a couple times, doing simple, warm-up moves. When I was confident, which took around twenty full minutes of stretching and warm-ups, I glided over to the music controls. Remembering my dance from last year, I decided I would try to do it as perfectly as I could. My head cleared as I typed in Footloose by Blake Shelton, getting ready to surrender myself to another language that communicated with my body instead of my mouth. I smiled at a sign on the wall that read Dancing is a language that is felt instead of heard.

Forgetting everything except how to count to eight, I did what I have loved to do for over a decade of my life. After just twenty seconds of dancing, a giddy laugh escaped my parted lips. I threw my head back and did a perfect second leap (a type of leap where my legs are spread out on either side of me and I look like I'm sitting in a chair while in the air), landing a little clumsily but thankfully not hurting myself too badly. My ankle protested for a second before taking the weight of the light injury and continuing to move how I needed it to. I breathed a silent sigh of relief, because I was already two counts of eight ahead of when I'd landed and was preparing to do some turns and quick, jerky movements.

The feeling I get when dancing is amazing. Some people would say it's my "natural high." I looked at every routine, every count of eight, every step as a challenge. I gladly accepted that challenge. I wanted to prove to people that not all blondes are bitches. Not all blondes have fake boobs and just want to get laid. I was a blonde that had a great head on my shoulders, and I possessed natural talents that no one else had. I had abilities that only I, Eva Anderson, had. No one was going to ruin that for me. That was part of the reason I was so stubborn and pushed myself so hard. I wanted to prove everyone that looked at me as another blonde bimbo wrong. Everyone that thought I was a nobody was going to admit they had made an error in judgment. I could dance many different kinds of dances, and I danced well, damn it.

By now, I was completely oblivious to everything around me except for where the four walls were. I didn't hear the door creak open. I didn't see it close gently behind someone that came in. And I didn't see that someone there, watching me; watching me that someone was, for the first time that I didn't want someone to. For the first time that wasn't on a stage and I wasn't in a group, someone saw me dance my heart out.

I finally posed, holding the position before allowing myself to collapse on the ground in exhaustion. I didn't realize until a few seconds afterwards that my throat was parched. My tongue felt too big for my mouth, and I was breathing heavily. I closed my eyes, smiling happily at how…much I felt like myself. I allowed myself to become emotional, and my walls vanished.

Loud, even clapping shattered the silence, an

e gladly agreed, easily snapping her neck. She didn't even put up a fight. I can't imaging what you did to her to make her so sad, but I hope you are proud of it, because she's gone. Come pick up her body. Even if you don't want her, neither do we.'

"Victor's expression was the saddest thing I've ever seen in my life. It still is. 'Kill me!' he cried. 'Kill me now! Let me be with her!' Our father, king, wasn't heartless. Even if he couldn't understand how much it hurt, he could imagine it, and that was enough.

"'Kill him, ' he commanded the closest guard. 'Take him out back. End his misery.' The guard slowly nodded, helping him up and making their way out into the forest. My best guess is that he took him to the wall, so he could be as close to her as possible. All the while, I could hear his crying. 'I'm sorry! I love you! It should've been me!' are some of the things he said. There was a lot of grieving that day.

"I know you're wondering how Sarah and I are alive if our leaders were killed, but you're too respectful to ask. If the leader requests suicide, the others may live. Noah and Aubrey requested suicide after two more days of grieving. They couldn't take the pain. The died in each other's arms, saying they wanted to be buried together.

"We didn't hold a funeral for any of them. My father thought Sarah or I would surely be pushed over the edge if we did. I had to start preparing to become the heir right away, anyways. Sarah and I threw ourselves into our work. We weren't intimate with each other like we used to be. It felt disrespectful. I almost lost her…"

Tears shone in his eyes, but I didn't know how to comfort him. Figuring if he was going to be my dad, I needed to learn to be comfortable around him. I wrapped my arms around him, laying my head on his shoulder. He folded me against him, pulling me into a hug I could tell he very much needed. He took a deep breath and sniffled a few times. I didn't even know I was crying over the sad story until I noticed his wet shirt. He didn't seem to care.

"We wouldn't even look at each other for a while, " he whispered, his voice cracking multiple times. "I noticed we started drifting apart, but when I tried to kiss her, she pulled away from me. I…I almost…"

"But you didn't, " I softly interrupted. "You have her now, and she loves you, and you're very successful. You have a family, and soon-to-be-daughter-in-laws. You're a strong guy, Marshall. Don't forget about the past, but don't dwell in it, either. That was then and this is now."

He hesitantly nodded. "I thought you should know that story…" he whispered. I nodded, then thought of the possibilities of why he wanted me to know that story.

"OH MY GOD, IS SETH COMMITING SUICIDE?!" I screeched, pulling away from him and shooting to my feet. Tears welled in my eyes. My throat clogged up, and I had to breathe through my mouth. My heart sank to my stomach, where butterflies were raging, and not the good kind. I turned to sprint out the door in search of him. He couldn't! He wouldn't! Would he...?

"No!" he instantly denied. I slowly turned back to face him. "No, he's not, " he repeated.

"T-Then why…?"

"I just think of him when I see you, and I get worried sometimes, " he admitted.

"Marshall, I-"

"Is everything okay?" I heard a voice ask. "Hey, what's wrong?" they wondered once they saw my tears. My breath caught in my throat.

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