6: 42, backstage
The worst thing about being in the centre of attention was the fact that all eyes would be on her. Her face, her arms, her body, her flaws -everything would be highlighted in horribly bright lights that shone too hard in her eyes. She could feel it already; the sound of the crowd, the heat from the lights and the sound of her stomach tearing knots into itself with anxiety. They were all looking and she knew she had to look perfect.
It was almost show time and she hadn't finished make up yet; her hands were shaking so hard. A fellow ballerina had to help her, she was too numb and nervous but she knew she had to step up to the plate and take the chance, this was her chance. Her parents wouldn't be in attendance, that much was obvious, but he wondered for a short moment if Fenix would attend.
Her stomach began to churn against itself, grumbling and tearing itself apart. She could taste the bile in the back of her throat and she pushed the ballerina patiently applying eye shadow out of the way and pushed herself into the bathroom. The smell of the bathroom was too clean and it made her toes curl as she bent over the toilet. There was nothing to throw up any more, her chest heaving, her eyes watering. Straightening herself up, she looked herself in the mirror, eyes red rimmed and face flushed. It was a mess, it was all a mess. Clammy hands gripped the sides of the basin and she realised this was not something she could do.
"Where the hell are you-"
But Grace pushed past and kept walking and walking until the brisk winter night air was filling her lungs, cold and crisp, her lips beginning to shake, her teeth chattering. Footfall after footfall, Grace made her way towards the road, not even sure where she was going but she kept walking.
"Hey! Where are you going?"
She turned at the familiar voice and felt sick all over again. "You turned up." She puffed out a breath of white smoke.
"Yeah, had nothing better to do," he said with a shrug. "Where are you going? Show's the other way."
"I'm not doing it," she stated with an upturn of her chin. "And you can't make me."
He shrugged. "I don't give a shit what you do, you could-"
"Did you bring me flowers?"
He held them up and she sniffed slightly, noticing they were just cheap, gas station flowers in plastic.
"You brought me flowers."
It seemed to strike something in her and she found herself, it seemed. Her shoulders squared, her throat was cleared and she slowly made her way back towards the auditorium.
"Get yourself in there, you should be seated soon. I was just getting some air. Don't cheer but I expect you to clap. And then afterwards, you're going to come find me backstage and give me those cheap flowers," she said, all while walking back towards the building. She opened the door and turned to him with almost a stern expression. "You get all that?"
