A Destructive dance

About this story

This is a piece I wrote about seven months ago or so, and I consider it one of my most treasured. As this piece contains graphic content reader discretion is advised.

A Destructive Dance

She danced. As a torrent of tears fell down her cheeks, she danced. She plastered a smile on her face beneath the ball mask she wore. No one saw the tears she cried as she passed from partner to partner, or danced on her own. She continued to drink the sweet syrupy wine. Glass after glass slid like honey down her throat, and still she danced and wept. She thought she could rid herself of him, but with every turn around the ballroom, with every drink, with every tight-lipped conversation, he crashed into her thoughts again.
It was one in the morning, and she finally found herself in her bedroom, stripping down to nothing. Tonight, she would add fresh scars to those already marring her body. She tried to fight the urge, but eventually, she pulled the knife from its place hidden in her dressing table. He had sent the blade to her as a gift. On the pommel, a fox and a wolf were emblazoned with paws touching. Closing her eyes so not to see the animals, she plunged the blade into her belly again and again, screaming her pain and despair. She wanted to die. Needed to die in fact. She became wild with her frenzied strokes, splattering herself and her surroundings with blood. Suddenly, her head began to spin and she felt an incredible surge of blood leave her belly. Her knees gave way, and she fell to her knees. everything was blurry for a few seconds, then she saw with absolute clarity, the face of her beloved. He was smiling and laughing, his blue eyes dancing in the dim light. With a weak smile on her face, she slumped to the floor and welcomed the blissful darkness.

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