Chapter 1
My heart raced beneath my chest as I lowered the needle down toward its target. The point rested only for a moment before I took a breath and plunged it into my skin. Searing pain ripped through my arm as the sweet venom began to course through my veins. I emptied the vial and instantly began to feel my body lift into the heavens. My head slumped back against the tattered couch and my mind flooded with wild images of demons and heinous beasts. The utter sensation of itching, burning flames rippled up my arms. I looked down to see them turn black and slowly begin to rot away. Blood spilled over and down my bare legs, hitting the floor with an audible pat. Patches of skin curdled and rolled away as this infection spread up my limbs. I couldn't stop it, and the pain was too much to bear.
"Cassie...Cassie wake up!" I heard her say in the fog of my reverie. "Cassie wake up, it's only a dream."
My eyes shot open and saw a figure of a girl leaning over me. "Kristina?"
"You were having one of your dreams again. I heard you from my room."
The sheets were stuck to me like glue and beads of sweat ran down the sides of my face. It was another one of those dreams. They said back in rehab that these were common upon recovering addicts. It was all too familiar to me. Shaking off the nightmare, I rose up from the bed, peeled off the covers and lit up a cigarette. Kristina backed away for a moment and returned to me with a cold glass of water. We had been roommates for two years now, and she learned exactly what to expect.
"Thank you. I'm sorry- you'd think after so many years I wouldn't have this issue anymore." I raised the glass to my lips and took in the cool, refreshing liquid.
"Don't worry about it, Cass. I wish you didn't have to experience this." Half smiling, she got up and walked out the door. "Hurry up and get dressed. We're going to be late again."
Shit. It was already 7 and practice began at 8. Shaking off the remainder of the nightmare, I put the glass down on my nightstand, stubbed out the smoke and set to find something to wear. I hadn't done laundry in a week and a half so a pair of leggings and an oversized tank would have to suffice. This would be my fourth year at the Opera House, and my second actually involved in productions. They didn't trust me at first to be in anything, but only to learn and stand in as an understudy in case one was needed. Last fall, one of the leading dancers had fallen sick with the flu and they had no choice but to replace her with me. Little did they know I made sure I was perfect that night. From then on, they never second guessed me. Granted, I was always made out to be the rebel, the addict, the reject who lost control of my life. They could not deny me of my talent, and for that I remained clean and more determined than ever to get my life back.
Kristina popped her head back into my room to check on my progress. "I'm about ready to go."
I shoved the rest of my belongings into my backpack and made for the door. Our apartment was modest, but it was quaint and homey. It was part of the agreement when they first decided to take me on as a protégé- to provide me living, food and a guaranteed babysitter.
Kristina was the Soprano in training at the Opera. She was young, prude but her beauty was bested by no one. She had come from a rather wealthy Parisian family who adopted her when she was very young. She devoted all her time to her arts and had little interest in normal, everyday leisure. Yet, she was the sweetest friend and never once cast a prejudice against me and my sins. She was always supportive of my endeavors and even if she wasn't, she was never chastising. She had been the closest thing I've ever had to a family; she was my shining light in an ever growing dark world.
The air was brisk with the threat of fall closing in. A few of the surrounding trees had already begun to change, their leaves beginning to darken and die. The streets were alive with the hum of cars and buses and people trudging down the sidewalks, their attentions cast down at their cell phones. We blended into the stampede and started toward the Opera House. Kristina talked to me about her rehearsals, explaining that starting this week she'd be staying late to be coached privately by the head maestro - Monsieur Bellamy. I told her of our dance routine and how practice was beginning today for the new Act. The last two weeks have been spent learning Act 1, which wasn't complicated in the least. I was partnered with my friend Alex, a bright young man with handsome features and beautiful brown eyes. He was a potential prospect.
"My god, Cass. Weren't you just out on a date Saturday with Derek?" Kristina scoffed.
"So?" A giggle escaped me as the cigarette dangled from my lips. "I like to keep my options open. Plus, what's the fun in settling?"
"How can you even concentrate on guys when we are learning a new production? I can hardly ever think of anything else. It's like it consumes me." She wrung her hands tightly around each other.
"You, my dear friend, are what we call a perfectionist..." I saw her brows furrow.
"I am not!" She pouted.
"By the way you missed a button..." I said, gesturing toward her coat with my cigarette.
Kristina's hands instinctively shot to her abdomen. Looking down, she realized that I lied. "There is nothing wrong with looking your best."
"Pfft. You're already the prettiest of us all. Mirror, mirror..." I rolled my eyes and looked at my watch. "Shit, its 7:30! Let's pick up the pace."
We rushed into the south side entrance of the Opera house and at the end of the hallway; we parted ways with a quick hug; her to the left where the choir practice was being held, and me to the right where they were holding dance rehearsals. I entered just in the nick of time.
The hall was large, with the walls covered in mirrors and balance beams lined the entire back of the room.
"Fall in, everyone. Fall in." Frank called out to the gaggle of ballet dancers flocking around the rehearsal room. "We start in five for the warm up and stretch."
"Hey Cassie!" Alex cat-called from the corner of the room. "And here I thought you weren't going to show up today."
"I like to surprise and delight." I winked and nudged him in his side. God was he built. He had the typical male dancer physique; tall, lean and muscular. "Have you been working on your entrechat?"
"Maybe. Have you been practicing your plié? I could always show you some tips..." He grinned, grabbing the curve of my side as his embrace trailed down to my hip.
"Maybe you should concentrate on our pas de deux. I wouldn't want to out dance you yet again."
"Is that a challenge?" His grip tightened. I pirouetted away from him and flashed him a devilish smile. "You're on, you tease."
"Alright! Fall in line for stretch counts."
The rest of the company lined up behind one another, one hand on the balance beam, the other arced out in front for first position. Frank counted through our stretches while I devised a plan in my head to shame my little friend yet again. We did these childish games often. Both our prides forbid defeat. The one thing I had against Alex in this instance was my womanly figure. He couldn't tear his eyes off me. I pointedly dipped extra low in front of him, enticing his imagination. Every rise and bow was exaggerated in front of his eyes. After the stretch and warm up was completed, I felt confident in my challenge.
"Alright people. Let's split up. The corps de ballet-over to that end. Cassarah and Alexander, my two leads, please come over here."
For the next four hours, we learned the first half of the second act which included a very beautiful performance between Alex and me. By the time we were done, Frank wanted everyone to come together to rehearse what we all learned. I stood to the side while the company gathered in the center of the room. They began their dance. They were graceful yet clumsy. They would need a lot of work to perfect this number. The stage manager called us over for our rendition of what we learned. My heart raced in my chest, echoing the beat of my pulse in my head. This is the closest feeling I have found to the drug that nearly took my life. I craved this feeling every moment of every day.
Alex stood behind me, his hands resting on my sides and mine encompassing his. Once the music began, I melted into the melody and swayed with the harmony. My partner in turn reciprocated my grace and passion. When we finished our dance aria, Frank rejoiced in us.
"This ladies and gentlemen, is how you perform ballet! Bravo, you two. Keep it up. Alex, wonderful job today. You really outdid yourself. As for you..." He pointed to the company. "We will need extra rehearsals this weekend. Clear your calendars. Dismissed."
I lost! How could I have lost? I put everything into that dance and yet Alex was praised. The little brat. I can only imagine what punishment he will have in store. The last time I lost, I had to ask Frank out on a rather audacious date. Needless to exaggerate, he declined and also threatened to demote me for the rest of the season. I crossed my arms as his smugness sauntered towards me. I couldn't help but smirk, he was so cute that way.
"This time, Cass, we do a double dare. We are going to pursue a certain ghost story. Jacque said he found a way into one of the hidden passages that leads down to the basement of the opera house." He ushered me passed a group of ballet dancers and out of the rehearsal hall. "You believe in that shit?"
"I've heard rumors of things disappearing, people being chased away from certain corridors. But that's mostly down the choir hallways."
"Let's go exploring! His eyes grew wide with excitement.
"I don't think that's a good idea." I protested. "Those passageways are falling apart, we could get seriously hurt."
"What!? Are you scared? Of a ghost story?"
"...More like crushing to death. But, you win. We'll do it tonight after my appointment. That way everyone has been gone for the night."
"What are we going to do until then? I have a 1 o'clock workshop but that's it."
"I can think of a few things." I flirted, leaning toward him, my eyes burning with need. "We could work on my pliés."
x
A few hours later, we emerged from one of the vacant dressing rooms. Our faces were flushed from our scandalous rendezvous. Alex planted a gentle kiss on my lips just as an instructor turned down the hallway. We quickly parted and began to chirp about the upcoming performance. The instructor gave us a quizzical look before hastily continuing his plight down the remainder of the corridor. Once the man was out of sight, we both let out a rush of air and giggled.
"I missed my 1 o'clock." Alex said smirking, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
The time!
"Shit! What time is it!?" I asked, reaching for my phone and realized I left my bag in the rehearsal room before we snuck here.
Alex dug out his phone from his pocket. "It's almost 3. Why, what's wrong?"
"I have an appointment at 4! I can't miss it. Shit." I turned the opposite way of the exit and began to rush down the hall.
"Where are you going? Exits this way?"
"I forgot my bag."
"Don't forget we meet up tonight around 8. Don't chicken out!"
That's the very last thing I'd ever do. My pride was too great for a guy like Alex to best me. 'Chicken out...pfft.'
Arriving at the rehearsal room, I shoved my shoulder into the door and barged in. It was pitch black, with only the gleam of the hallway lights reflecting off the mirrors. I scoured the room until my eyes caught a dark heap on the ground in the corner where it was abandoned. I stalked towards it, suddenly becoming aware of the weirdest sensation. The hair on my arms stood on end and a tantalizing chill ran down the length of my spine. Strange, it almost felt like someone was watching me. I bent down to pick up my bag when from behind me I heard a hushed footstep and then the click of the door closing. A gasp escaped my lips and sweat began to prickle under my arms. Without a second thought, I turned and ran for the door, half expecting for it to be locked. Light plunged onto my face as the door was ripped open. Sweet relief fled my senses, my chest heaving from the adrenaline. An estranged laugh stole from my mouth at the absurdity of the event that just transpired.
Reality slapped me into motion. I dug through my bag, passing over any shape that wasn't my phone. Finally, after what felt like an eternity I glanced down to the time displayed on the screen. I had 45 minutes to make this appointment. I had no choice but to be there on time or else it would jeopardize my rehabilitation and my employment here. With a determined air, I dropped my phone back into my bag, slung it over my shoulder and ran towards the exit.
X
Dr. Bradley sat stoically against the tall, oak chair. Her eyes glanced down at the notepad resting on her lap. When she looked back up at me, her eyes hinted towards sympathy.
"So how has your recovery been this past month?" She twirled her pen between her fingers, awaiting my response.
"Doing better... it's something I deal with every day. It was a constant reminder of my choices as a young adult. I was stupid and lovelorn." I stared up at the ceiling. I hated these meetings, her prying and her feigned sympathy.
"Have you heard anything about the custody of your son?" She asked, regarding me carefully with her wrinkled, hazel eyes.
My arms wrapped around my stomach instantly to try and squelch the pain and the weight of that question. My son... His name was Andre. He was now four years old, raised at the hands of strangers 40 miles away from here. I wasn't allowed to visit him and I haven't seen him in over 3 years. The court granted me written updates but as for physical confrontations- forbidden. The pain of losing my son was like nothing I've ever endured. It's worse than all the times I have ever suffered through withdraw and it was the sole reason why I agreed to therapy. I've tried to purposely overdose 6 times in the last 4 years. I would do anything to see him again, to touch him and to hold him. The scent of his infant head still lingered in my good dreams but his face was always a blur. I've written an appeal to stay clean for two years, attend regular psychological evaluations and remain at the opera house for the chance to win supervised visits with him. The ultimate goal would be to be awarded full custody again. I always chose my words carefully knowing that fate balanced on my answers.
"No. I haven't..." I whispered, fearing if I spoke too much, my insides would force their way out. "I haven't heard anything in over two months."
She studied me carefully, scribbling some unforeseen judgement down onto her notebook. "Does this cause you anxiety? How do you deal with that?"
"It causes me heart break more than anything. What kind of person can I be knowing that my son was taken away from me? Knowing I caused him suffering, even for a brief moment because I was so wrapped up in my own reality. I'll never forgive myself for it..." Tears silently welled up into my eyes threatening to flood over. Blinking quickly, I pushed on to answer her question. "I deal with this pain through my dancing and the distraction of the performances. I can get lost in it..."
Dr. Bradley lowered the notebook back down to her lap. Her fingers elegantly pushed her horned glasses further up the bridge of her nose and she shifted the weight between her legs. "Cass, it's wonderful that you have stayed clean this long. It's the longest stretch I have seen yet, and for that I can congratulate you. But...emotionally, you are not progressing enough. You should be able to date by now and be able to feel real connections with people. And we just aren't there."
"I...well..." My head hung low and my shoulders slumped forward in defeat.
She was right in the way that towards men, I could not openly feel any real emotion for them. Sure, I could feel attraction, lust, yearning in a sexual essence. I had no issues there but the minute I saw that look in their eyes, I bolted.
Six long years ago, I had met Peter at a party one of my best friends was having. He was tall, smart, funny and could play the guitar. We had an instant connection, like exploding fireworks, bright and beautiful. After about eight months of dating, we moved in together and he shared with me the most evil, yet purest form of ecstasy you could ever imagine. As I sat on the stiff, leather chair, I transported myself back to that first night.
I remembered it as clear as an autumn morning. Our apartment was just a step above an abandoned building, its walls curdling and peeled. The ceilings had huge, rotting holes in them, like black voids to the underworld. There was at least running water but you were lucky if it ever became warm. I didn't care though. I didn't care that we slept on a tattered mattress, as if we were prisoners of war. I didn't care that we hardly had food to spare or that we could hardly pay rent. I was so much in love with him and that devil of a drug.
That fateful night, we had lit candles everywhere, and we lay upon the floor together. Peter stood up and stalked over to one of the kitchen cabinets and brought back a scantly decorated cigar box.
"What's that?" I asked, my brows furrowing to a point.
He exhaled deeply. "I want to share something with you that I've never shared with anyone else. You're gonna be afraid at first, but I promise you. This will make us closer than we've ever been." He quickly planted a kiss on my lips. "You ready?"
I shook my head. He opened the box and pulled out a bag of stuff I've never seen before. It was a black, sappy looking substance that clung to the tiny package it was in. Peter took some of the substance out and smeared it onto a spoon. I watched with raw curiosity as he worked to get the substance just right in the utensil. Next, he reached into the cigar box and pulled out what looked like a needle inside a sealed package.
"Woah! What is that for!?" I asked, scooting away from the box and the needle he held.
"Relax, babe. I promise you, this is going to be the best night of our lives. I have never shared this before. You are the first and I want this to be special. If you don't like it, you'll never have to do it again. Do you trust me?" He reached out and stroked my cheek. His eyes were such a calming green, entrancing in their beautiful glimmer.
"Yes, of course." And it was true; I would have followed him into the depths of hell.
He grinned and made busy preparing the drug. I watched him as he gracefully melted the black, sticky substance until it became a shimmering liquid. Taking the needle, he drew the liquid deep within, his teeth nipping his lip as he worked. He gently wrapped a cloth around my bicep and tied it tightly. Gasping at the slight pain of his force, I started to fidget. I had never done anything like this in my whole life and I couldn't help but worry even more. Something deep within screamed at me to turn this down and walk the other way. Peter leaned forward and placed a warm, soft kiss on my arm. His lips followed the curve of my shoulder and up the gully of my neck. I shuddered as his teeth nipped a small space under my ear. He hovered there and smiled.
"It will only hurt for a second, but I promise to kiss it all better." He whispered into my ear. "Trust me, my Cassie woo."
I chuckled at his childish sobriquet. I gazed into his eyes, searching for any kind of sign that would make me question his trust. I did not find it and in resignation, I nodded for him to continue. His hand cupped my arm just above the elbow. He held it tight within his grasp, causing my arm to lock, revealing the virgin skin. My heart raced against my rib cage as Peter lowered the needle down to rest on the sensitive skin. I bit my lip hard as the breath held in came rushing out and back in. He looked up at me, and counted to three. One...two... I felt the sting of the needle plunge into my vein but almost instantly I felt this most wonderful rush throughout my body. My head fell down as my wavy, blonde hair teased the small of my back. All the senses came alive at once- the sound of the trees outside, the beautiful curve of the failing ceiling, the feel of Peters fingertips traveling down my leg and the copper taste of blood dancing in my mouth. These feelings were as intense as a tsunami crashing all over me, every wave of my pulse and rise of my breathing enhanced tenfold by the beauty of the substance coursing my body.
Peter grabbed my face between his strong hands and crushed my mouth into his. We made love all night and after each finish he would inject me with more of that drug until I could hardly lift my head off the ground. Staring at each other in utter exhaustion, he reached out and stroked my cheek with the back of his fingers. "I love you..." He exhaled out into the ash hued room...
"Cassie- I think that's enough for today..." Dr. Bradley interrupted. "I want you to come back next week. I feel this was a fairly good session. When you go back, I want you to work on these exercises." She handed me a few leafs of paper.
"Thanks." I snatched the papers out of her hands and hastily made for the door. That was all I could take before my soul imploded.
As I walked down the front steps of the office, I lit up a cigarette and drew in deep. The relinquishing breath came slow and unsteady. Steeling myself, I took another puff and started down the sidewalk to towards the opera house. I had a challenge to complete that night and I wasn't going to miss the opportunity to show how brave I could be.