Shadow Killer

Twenty Six

"Again."

"From the top."

"Again."

"Point your feet Posie."

Posies' feet ached, and her legs were sore. All she wanted to do was take a seat, even for a minute. Just to have a moment of rest. Her hand clutched the barre tightly, far tighter than she should, but given that the man at the front of the studio had them repeating the same ballet moves for the last two hours, she was exhausted.

The only thing that kept the young girl from collapsing to the ground was her death grip on the metal beam. Her knuckles had turned white long ago as she balanced on the points of her toes, the pointe shoes not providing much cushioning.

"POSIE!" The man yelled, walking forward between the girls until he reached the young girl. She dropped her head, looking to the ground, staring at his brown loafers, which stood out against the polished wooden floor. "Do you even listen?" He growled.

The small girl closed her eyes, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. "I'm sorry." She whispered, already bracing herself for whatever punishment she would have to endure.

"Pathetic." He swung his arm around, palm colliding with her cheek, the sharp slap causing everyone to stop and look over. "Look at me when I'm talking to you." Posie lifted her head, tears falling down her face, despite her best efforts. Her cheek was already going red from the slap. She stared up at the man with large eyes, hoping that he would be more forgiving today.

She was wrong.

His belt was in his hands, and all Posie could do was ready herself for impact. The sharp pain of the belt sped upwards through her body from her legs. She wanted to cry out in pain, but that would only further enrage him. Instead, she bit her tongue, drawing blood, as he brought the belt down on her legs again.

She wasn't sure how long she stood there being flogged, but it felt like an eternity. All she wanted was to sit down and cry. To hide from the prying eyes that stared at her. Everyone had stopped dancing, instead, watching the scene unfold. They stared in disbelief as Posie Parker, the girl who never failed, got beaten to a pulp.

"Posie Parker!" A voice rang through the air. Several heads turned to the door to see a woman standing there, arms crossed as she stared above her glasses. "Follow me."

Posie wasn't sure if she should be feeling relief, but she was. Being pulled out of ballet class was unheard of. Ballet was how they drilled perfection into the girls. Every move should flow seamlessly. You could be drawn from any of the other training regimes, but not ballet.

She followed the lady down the hallway into an office where a man stood with his back against the door. "Here she is. Posie Parker."

The man turned around and grinned at the girl. Despite her training in blocking out emotions, an overwhelming sense of fear coursed through her as she looked up at the man. Her fear for the ballet instructor was felt across the girls, but as she stood in front of the man, she felt fear like nothing she felt before, nothing like anyone here had felt. His smile held no warmth or reassurance as he knelt down, grabbing her face, looking her over.

Posie was used to be poked and prodded, people not believing what they saw. Looking her over as if she was merely an object rather than a person. She supposed she was an object. They had taught her from such a young age that she was nothing. She had no value of life.

"Are you sure?"

"She's the best of her age group. Her results are most promising. You will find that her compliance will be easy, and she will bring satisfactory results."