*Disclaimer Note: These are my characters, so yep, I own them because, well... I created them. If you take them or use them, please tell me by emailing me, or I will fuck you up. Thank you :) and have a nice day!
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Alisha parked her Camry in the small garage and went into the three-bedroom house. Her mother worked in an antique shop downtown... sometimes. The manager was a dear friend of Alishas and her mothers, so she understood when Therese, Alisha's mother, wasn't quite able to come to work. She still sent her a paycheck every other week. Alisha knew she owed Manie, the manager and friend, her life.
Alisha climbed out of the car and lifted her bag out of the back. She was wearing a loose shirt that was soaked with a v of sweat from collar to hem. She was still exhilarated, as she got every time she danced. Even through the pain, the bleeding and cramping toes and cramped calves and thigh muscles, she loved everything about ballet. The movement, the grace, the beauty it made her feel. Who else would notice the two tiny steps before a /I? Only a dancer.
Alisha's heart clenched at the thought of ever having to stop. Without it, her life would be pure misery. Even though she had a select few friends and a job in a nice little bookstore on Main, her life at home caused her pain worse than the terrible cramps.
Unlocking the back door and hurrying to lock it and rush to the bathroom before her mother could come out, she quickly dropped her clothes into a hamper in the tiny laundry room by the back door, but as she was about to close the door she heard that clank of ice in a glass and something pound against the wall.
"Alisha? Is that you?" Slurred words drifted from the small, harshly lit hallway.
"Yes, Mum, it's me..." Sighing, she walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a bottle of water. IToo late.../IShe thought. Her mother slinked through the archway into the kitchen, wearing a terry cloth robe and her hair in curlers. Her eyes were half shut and bloodshot, and in her hand a small glass filled with vodka and ice.
Therese eyed her daughter up and down. Her long, slender but shapely legs were clad in black tights and her shirt was sweaty. She met her daughter's eyes. "Where the hell have you been?"
"Class, mother, you know that."
Therese tripped over her own feet as she walked over to the small island in the middle of the kitchen. She set her glass down hard, causing a clank to echo through the house. Therese grabbed onto it for balance. "Really?" She said, in a long, mocking sound. Therese gave a short laugh. "Stupid, stupid girl. Wasting our money on shit you don't need." Straightening, she walked over to her daughter.
Therese was slim, pretty when she wasn't drunk, with long, curly red hair and blue eyes. But ever since Alisha's father had left with that young, cheap piece of ass... Therese suddenly struck out and slapped her daughter across the face. "Stupid, worthless girl." She spat out at Alisha who was sprawled on the floor from the force of the blow. "This is why your father left... Couldn't stand to see you starve yourself so you could dance. How the fuck do I even know you dance? I've never seen... You're probably just having sex with some boy..." Therese looked completely confused all of a sudden, and then looked at her daughter, although Alisha felt as though her mother wasn't really seeing her.
Therese suddenly cleared her throat, and pressed a hand to her forehead. She turned and walked out of the kitchen.
Alisha waited until she heard the slam of a door before getting up. She walked over to the sink and leaned over and the tight knot in her throat began to choke her. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she began to sob. Walking to her bedroom and not bothering with a shower, Alisha curled up in a ball and cried herself to sleep.
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Alisha parked her Camry in the small garage and went into the three-bedroom house. Her mother worked in an antique shop downtown... sometimes. The manager was a dear friend of Alishas and her mothers, so she understood when Therese, Alisha's mother, wasn't quite able to come to work. She still sent her a paycheck every other week. Alisha knew she owed Manie, the manager and friend, her life.
Alisha climbed out of the car and lifted her bag out of the back. She was wearing a loose shirt that was soaked with a v of sweat from collar to hem. She was still exhilarated, as she got every time she danced. Even through the pain, the bleeding and cramping toes and cramped calves and thigh muscles, she loved everything about ballet. The movement, the grace, the beauty it made her feel. Who else would notice the two tiny steps before a /I? Only a dancer.
Alisha's heart clenched at the thought of ever having to stop. Without it, her life would be pure misery. Even though she had a select few friends and a job in a nice little bookstore on Main, her life at home caused her pain worse than the terrible cramps.
Unlocking the back door and hurrying to lock it and rush to the bathroom before her mother could come out, she quickly dropped her clothes into a hamper in the tiny laundry room by the back door, but as she was about to close the door she heard that clank of ice in a glass and something pound against the wall.
"Alisha? Is that you?" Slurred words drifted from the small, harshly lit hallway.
"Yes, Mum, it's me..." Sighing, she walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a bottle of water. IToo late.../IShe thought. Her mother slinked through the archway into the kitchen, wearing a terry cloth robe and her hair in curlers. Her eyes were half shut and bloodshot, and in her hand a small glass filled with vodka and ice.
Therese eyed her daughter up and down. Her long, slender but shapely legs were clad in black tights and her shirt was sweaty. She met her daughter's eyes. "Where the hell have you been?"
"Class, mother, you know that."
Therese tripped over her own feet as she walked over to the small island in the middle of the kitchen. She set her glass down hard, causing a clank to echo through the house. Therese grabbed onto it for balance. "Really?" She said, in a long, mocking sound. Therese gave a short laugh. "Stupid, stupid girl. Wasting our money on shit you don't need." Straightening, she walked over to her daughter.
Therese was slim, pretty when she wasn't drunk, with long, curly red hair and blue eyes. But ever since Alisha's father had left with that young, cheap piece of ass... Therese suddenly struck out and slapped her daughter across the face. "Stupid, worthless girl." She spat out at Alisha who was sprawled on the floor from the force of the blow. "This is why your father left... Couldn't stand to see you starve yourself so you could dance. How the fuck do I even know you dance? I've never seen... You're probably just having sex with some boy..." Therese looked completely confused all of a sudden, and then looked at her daughter, although Alisha felt as though her mother wasn't really seeing her.
Therese suddenly cleared her throat, and pressed a hand to her forehead. She turned and walked out of the kitchen.
Alisha waited until she heard the slam of a door before getting up. She walked over to the sink and leaned over and the tight knot in her throat began to choke her. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she began to sob. Walking to her bedroom and not bothering with a shower, Alisha curled up in a ball and cried herself to sleep.