AN: Hello again! Thank you so much for the reviews, keep em' coming! So this chapter will focus mainly on Jenna and dance, and possibly the team. Enjoy!
Chapter 6
I spent the entire next week a nervous wreck. I dug out my old leotards and various shoes and worked my butt off practicing my turns and stretching out my muscles. I was most horrified to put on my pointe shoes. Eight months off of pointe, my toes may as well just break themselves. They sat in the back of my closet mocking me for days. Finally, after day 5, I slipped the worn satin shoes over my bear feet, cringing at the thought of ingrown toenails and callused feet. I warmed up with a simple releve, instantly remembering the time I was forced to break in new shoes without toe pads. It was around 1am, and my room was carpeted, so I figured it was safe to go into the kitchen to practice my pirouettes. I peaked my head out into the hallway to make sure Spencer was in his room. His door was opened whenever he wasn't in it, but at the moment it was closed so I assumed he went to bed.
I brought along my full length mirror so I could critique my form if needed. I leaned the mirror against the refrigerator, and began my pirouettes. They soon advanced into fouette's, which I was very proud of nailing right off the bat. I ended up stumbling when I heard the rustling of blankets followed by a yawn. I grabbed the mirror and quietly paced through the living room, finding Spencer passed out on the couch with a manila folder spread across his chest, and multiple scattered around the coffee table. I placed the mirror down and sat down next to the couch. I was genuinely curious about the contents of the folders, I mean what harm can come from a little peak?
Well, apparently a lot of harm can be done by even a slight glace. Within the small, generic folders was a series of mutilated bodies. Cut up, dismembered, blood covered bodies. I was so disgusted I could feel my stomach turning, which was a feeling I was all too familiar with. As atrocious as the pictures were, there was something intriguing about them. The fact that a person, a human being, was the cause of this was mind boggling. I wondered what was going through the killers mind when he committed the murders. I wondered what his childhood was like, if he was abused, or even neglected. My eyes floated to a typed report opposite the pictures. The killer supposedly kidnapped 20-25 year old dark haired women and kept them as his slave for weeks. After he got tired of them, he would butcher them beyond recognition. Judging from the state of the body, I never would have guessed the image was of a woman.
My eyes soon grew heavy, but I couldn't peel them away. I kept reading and reading until I ran out of files. There was so much death, so much evil. It was incredibly fascinating, yet a tad bit frightening. I've always been aware of the capabilities of man, but seeing it made everything more real.
I found myself dozing off at three minute intervals. It was then that I looked at the clock and discovered I had been sitting there for the better half of three hours. I wasn't surprised; my time conception was absolutely terrible. I stood up, grabbed the mirror, and ventured back into my bedroom, tripping over myself like a drunken teenager. I entirely forgot I was wearing my toe shoes, so maybe that had something to do with it.
I hung my mirror up in its place a changed into pajama shorts and a University of Maryland t-shirt. I crawled into bed, warmth surrounding my tiny frame. My body temperature was always abnormally low, so I'm pretty much the only person I know that is in constant need of blankets, sweaters and jackets. The moonlight shined through my window and cast a glow on my blank walls. I had feeling that they would never end up getting painted, and began to think about what I could do to spice them up. Over the years I've acquired a fair share of posters and news articles I was fond of, even poems and book excerpts. I blinked slowly until I finally fell into a deep sleep, a much needed one at that.