I was so proud the first time I saw my Cathy dance on a real stage, in a professional ballet. It meant that she had finally achieved her dream- years in the attic hadn't marred it in the end, only made her want it more.

But the time I loved my Catherine Doll the most, was when I watched her dance in the attic, on those seemingly endless days of our imprisonment. For when my Cathy danced for that huge audience, she belonged to them. I held no claim over her, I couldn't even pretend she was my own. But in the shadows where I watched her, there was only me.

"Dance, ballerina dance,
And do your pirouette in rhythm,
With your aching heart."

Cathy liked it when I sung softly to her. And I loved to watch her dance. I looked at her with so much pride, not just of being her brother, but of something deeper. I knew it was sinful and wrong, and yet I couldn't help myself. Not when I saw her dance.

So many years I wanted her, and I finally got her. And yet when I looked at her, I didn't see the grown woman with so many worldly experiences behind her. I still saw my little, fragile Cathy, dancing in the attic dust.

"Dance, ballerina dance,
And do your pirouette in rhythm,
With your aching heart."

The song plays forever in my head, and is carved forever on my heart.