Sarah's Dance


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1. Looking Back

Dance, and feel the bright spotlights on you as you leap across the stage. Dance, and twirl around and feel your feet glide effortlessly beneath you. Dance, and let your body feel the beat of the music. For me, dancing is everything and anything. I was just a little girl when I started to dance. I thought it was fun, wearing a leotard and skirt feeling like a princess. My older sister Sarah was starting competitive dance. I was so amazed at how graceful she was on the stage. How she made even the hardest routines look easy. I looked up to her, she was my everything. She was very pretty with dirty blond hair and beautiful green-grey eyes. Sarah was in every way, shape, and form, perfect. I remember that I bugged her, and I kept asking her to help me practice. I wanted her to coach me. She pinky promise me she would. I got better and better at dance. Ballet, Tap, Hip hop and even Point. Sarah gave me all the confidence and training I needed to be the best. We both won lots of ribbons an trophies. But she got older, grew into a teenager while I was still just a kid to her. She started caring less about dance. She still went to class and competitions, but you could tell that the spark, the connection she had with dance, was gone. Then one day during Point class, she tied her shoes wrong and her ankle rolled, she broke it. After that, Sarah changed completely. She dropped her grades, skipped school, hung out with bad kids. But I was only 10. I didn't know what she was going through because she never showed her pain to me. Every time I came home from school she would greet me with a smile, and she would let me doodle on her cast. She would help me with my homework and once we were finished we would bake chocolate chip cookies. Weeks passed and Sarah switched from a cast to a boot. She was getting skinnier, she didn't have the same passion in her eyes. But she was still my beautiful older sister. One day we were in our room and she was checking my math homework for me. I told her that she was so pretty and I wished I looked like her. She smiled and started crying. I got upset, I didn't mean to make her cry. She walked over to me and gave me a big hug. She told me that I was beautiful too and to never stop dancing, for her. When she pulled away I noticed some streaks, or scratches on her arms. I didn't know what the big red cuts and scars meant back then, but I do know now that it could have meant life or death for Sarah. That night I heard her in an argument with mommy and daddy. She never came back to the room after that. I got scared and went to the bathroom to look for her. I found her asleep in a puddle of blood. I let out a whimper and ran downstairs screaming mommy, daddy, Sarah's asleep in the bathroom. They both exchanged confused glances. Daddy carried me back to bed and told me everything was going to be okay. Five minutes later, if I was still awake I would've heard ambulance sirens cutting through the night silence.

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