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lucyinlucifer · 9 months

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change.

verb

make (someone or something) different; alter or modify.

noun

the act or instance of making or becoming different.

life has a way of changing — changing so fast that each day can be a blur, a whirlwind of packing up the life i once had. a beautiful life that i wouldn’t have traded for the world. . .but. . . the universe reminded me that my life won’t always be in my control, nothing is ever what it seems to be.

the boys and i have been staying in Paris, at the Moartes penthouse for the last few days. our belongings packed in boxes, in a storage container here in the city until i knew where we would stay for good. we would finally have a forever home, me and my boys, oh, and the little orange that was snug as a bug still in my belly.

as much as i have fallen in love with France, and it would be nice to have all my children be French citizens. . . i wasn’t sure if i could be so far away from the support system that was in the States. all of my friends were being so supportive from their respective homes — Cami, who said she would be my babies daddy. Jimmy, who was just there and of course, the Moartes, who rescued me when i didn’t know where to go. all calling me every day to check in on us.

what i needed is time, time to figure things out, figure out what would be best for me and my smaller family.

luckily i didn’t have to decide quite yet — my best friend has been so unbelievably accommodating. letting me stay in one of their many homes. . . and oh how i’ve made it my home. every morning we went to my favorite boulangerie to pick up fresh baguette for dinner and a pastry or two. that was something i would miss, the fresh bread and pastries every day, that would be just a memory of how we would stop there on the way to the Moartes when we first moved to Paris.

the boys currently playing in Leighton’s room. Brighton was set up in her crib, while Berlioz was in the pack and play. . . but often, they were with me in the guest room, snug next to me in the big bed. there was a loneliness at night that i hadn’t yet gotten used to. . . telling myself that the boys needed night time cuddles, when in reality it was me and my selfish need to have someone in the bed with me. even though i knew both of them would be more comfortable in their own crib. oh how resilient children are. . . happy in their own little twin bubble. . . they’ve made it so easy for me, still their normal happy selves. . . i couldn’t be more grateful for my boys.

spooky season was in full throttle — instead of decorating my home, since i didn’t have a home. . . i had to settle with movies. unlike with the twins i was craving sweets like crazy, mostly sour patch watermelon’s that i could only get in the states. but i settled with what i could find at a sweet shop here in Paris. every day was a marathon, starting with Hill House — oh how i love that short series. it was becoming a yearly watch. followed by Practical Magic and Bram Stoker's Dracula, both on my top five favorite movies of all time. Nora always gave me crap because they often flipped flopped for second and third favorite. now i was watching all the Saw films — it’s been two years since i’ve watched them all straight through and decided this was the year to watch them all again.

popping a piece of popcorn in my mouth along with a chocolate almond, loving the sweet and salty taste. lowering a palm to my growing bump, “do you like that? i hope you like that.”

the next day.

anxiety filled me knowing it was about time to go get another ultrasound — this time to figure out the gender of my little orange. . . i didn’t want to go alone. biting down on my lower lip while the boys ate their breakfast, swirling the spoon i had in my coffee cup, even though the oatmilk i poured in was perfectly mixed in already. . . and my coffee was officially cold.

i should go to coffee jail.

last time i was alone, pregnant with the twins, i had Nora with me via FaceTime, but, right now. . . i missed her, i missed my family and after a call to Mrs. Nora Moarte herself. we were packing again.

off to New Orleans.

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lucyinlucifer · 11 months

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fear.

/fir/

noun

an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat."he is prey to irrational fears"

verb

be afraid of (someone or something) as likely to be dangerous, painful, or threatening."farmers fear that they will lose business"

I don’t think I ever truly knew fear until I became a mother.

Until I had two very little humans that depended on me to keep them alive, I just had myself.

I could care less about myself. All that ever truly mattered to me was ballet, and nothing, no one, would ever stand in my way.

Not until my boys came into the picture.

Cooper was gone, had been for about a year now. I didn’t know what my dad did, all I knew is that he was “taken care of”, my little family was safe. I loved my job. Everything was perfect.

That was until my husband starting doing a little too well in Paris — whenever he does well, comes trouble. . . Fear was ever present in our minds. . .

So we left.

I quit my job. All that I ever dreamed of.

For my family. . . And you know what? I don’t regret a thing.

Months we spent in Monaco — my little family spending our days on the beach, watching the boys eat sand and my husband spending each night at Casino de Monte-Carlo.

Some nights I would go with him, be his “lucky charm”, most nights I spent in our temporary home with the boys, a glass of wine and a bath. . .

Monaco was different from Paris, in ways that I both loved and hated. The fear of Oliver winning every night was at the forefront of my mind, but I knew he was doing this for us.

I wanted to stay in one place for awhile.

Not forever, but a home, a quiet home was much needed. . . And after a few months of fun in the sun, we were home. . .

In the French countryside.

It was so easy making Hautvillers home. We weren’t too far from Paris, but far enough from the city that was currently causing us dread.

The rolling hills, vineyards covering every inch, the birthplace of champagne. . . The village was quiet, more quiet than Oliver and I were used to. . . Our little cottage came with mini goats, one black called Midnight and one tan with white spots named Pickles that Berlioz and Brighton absolutely adore, and I’m secretly scared of.

But the feeling of finally being safe, being with our boys, was all that we needed right now.

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lucyinlucifer · 3 years

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together in paris.

What felt like a death sentence was becoming one of the most beautiful moments in my life. Belly round and growing daily, skin glowing, morning sickness a thing of the past. For the first time I wasn’t worried if I was eating too much, but more so if I was eating enough. Tears flowing freely while eating Tapito Doritos this morning — feeling little flutters, like wings or gas. But knowing I was finally feeling my babies move.

Paris Opera Ballet Company weren’t as mad as I thought they would be — I saw the disappointment in their eyes. The prima ballerina that they were waiting for, was going to be no use to them for a year.

Agreeing to keep me on, to still pay for the apartment they had set my husband and me up in but that would be all until I got back into shape and in my pointe shoes. It was a good thing Oliver took Paris by storm, so completely at ease with his new life. Our new life. Conning the French was going quite well, and he made sure to conduct his business away from home. In the outskirts of Paris — this was our new home, and he swore he wouldn’t ruin things for us here. Especially since this was where my job was.

A family now. A new home.

Me, Oliver and our growing twins.

darling, I feel no pain. my girl, don’t ever change.

Hello, you.

It took longer than I would have liked to find you. But I’m here, I’m here for you. Just like you wanted.

Oh how you’ve grown. How beautiful you are carrying our babies. I know how much you must miss me.

charming, I like you here. falling I have no fear. fire, ooh, I say.

Why did you leave with him when I know all you want is to be with me? To love me. To be a family.

I see him kiss you in front of your new apartment, touching your belly. Touching my babies.

He’s not the father.

I am.

Why did you do this to us? Oh you. . .

darling, you call my name. I like. . . the games you play.

Is this another one of your games? A test, my dear? For my devotion to you?

I can still feel you, wrapped around me.

But I see you, on your hands and knees. Letting him pleasure you, letting him take what’s mine.

While I pleasure myself, outside your apartment. I see myself inside you, fucking you. Loving you. Like I once did.

Like I will again.

You are mine. I’ll be with you soon.

I promise.

charming, my love for you. burning, I feel it too. fire, ooh, I say.

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lucyinlucifer · 3 years

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the workshop.

Tonight was the night, the night I’ve been working towards for almost a year.

The Workshop.

Tonight I would find out if I had a future in ballet, I would either get a job offer to one of the most prestigious ballet companies — Los Angeles Ballet Company, American Ballet Theatre in New York, Paris Opera Ballet company and some other ballet companies that came to the show.

Or I wouldn’t. . . And all the work I did since I was a child, all the money my father and the MC poured into my future would be for nothing. Because I was too old to stay in the academy after having my twenty second birthday in July. This was it.

I couldn’t stop throwing up — dainty palms holding onto the sides of the toilet I was vomiting in. I knew it was disgusting but I felt off balance, like if I didn’t hold on I would fall into the toilet and that just sounded worse. Especially since I was already dressed and made up for the Workshop.

Cooper’s ballet was going to start in an hour — I should be warming up but instead my nerves were getting the best of me.

“I can’t believe you got married.”

I wiped my lips with some toilet paper, dabbing the rest of my sweaty features with another bundle so I wouldn’t completely mess up my makeup. I was going to have to powder my forehead a bit and re-apply my lipstick.

“Don’t ignore me.”

I finally glanced behind me at Cooper, standing right behind me. Staring at the engagement and wedding band on my left hand.

“Why can’t you? It’s not like we were together Cooper. You don’t own me. I dance for you, that’s all.”

Finally standing up, my stomach was still a mess but I had to pull myself together. Taking off my rings, pinning them into the inside of the bodice of my tutu dress, just like my favorite doctors did to their scrubs in Grey’s Anatomy. My breast aching when I brushed against it. I couldn’t wear them on stage, but I wanted them close to my heart while I danced. Wanted Oliver close even though he was going to be out in the audience.

Walking past Cooper only for him to grab me by the arm.

“But we made up. We made love before you left to Vegas. How could you meet someone and get married since then?!”

His voice was getting louder and my heart started racing. Was he going to hurt me? No, he couldn’t. This ballet was important for his future as well.

Shrugging him off even though my mind was racing just as fast as my heart. We had sex?

I had wondered what happened that night for weeks. Since Cooper told me we made up, since I realized he was very much alive and not dead like I thought he was.

And that’s how we made up?

“I have to finish warming up. . .”

.

oh, the loneliest girl in town, is bought for pennies a price. we dress her up in lovely gowns, she's easy on the eyes. her soul is black and it's a fact, that her sneer will eat you alive. . . and the buyer always brings her back. . . because all she does is cry.

The modern ballet Cooper produced was about a young woman stuck in a toxic relationship, trapped in her mind, unsure of herself or who she is because the man she loved is keeping her hostage.

As I danced along to the lyrics of Halsey’s “The Tradition” I completely transformed into her. I was her.

I was trapped.

so take what you want, take what you can. . take what you please, don't give a damn. ask for forgiveness, never permission. . . take what you want, take what you can, take what you please, don't givе a damn. It's in the blood and this is tradition. . .Ooh-ooh.

I could feel the music tangling around my form, spinning into the arms of the dancer playing my toxic lover. Pulling away from him as he fought to pull me back.

Hungry and cold while I was defenseless and weak.

Like me and Cooper.

He was my boss, my mentor, and he was in control. Wanting to trap me. Wanting to take all of me, everything I owned. Everything I was.

oh, the loneliеst girl in town, was bought for plenty a price. . well, they dress her up in golden crowns, his smile hides a lie. she smiles back, but it's a fact that her fear will eat her alive. . . well, she got the life that she wanted. . . but now all she does is cry.

Purposely falling into the floor after my toxic lover slapped me, dragging my fingers down hopeless features.

But then, a man — the man that really loves me and wants to save me from myself pulls me from the ground. Lifts me up into his arms and up above his head as I lay back, like I’m flying.

He was saving me. Just like Oliver was.

take what you want, take what you can, take what you please, don't give a damn. ask for forgiveness, never permission. . . take what you want, take what you can, take what you please, don't give a damn. . . It’s in the blood and this is tradition.

My savior tosses me into the air — but before I fall my toxic lover catches me. Pulling me away from my savior.

I slip down onto the floor, running to the other side of the stage on the tips of my pointe shoes.

you can't take it back, it's good as gone. . . well, flesh amnesiac, this is your song. and I hope what's left will last all summer long, and they said that boys were boys, but they were wrong.

My savior spins me around, taking my features into his grip — thumbs caressing my cheeks. Telling me he loved me and no one could hurt me by his touch.

take what you want, take what you can, take what you please, don't give a damn. . .

My toxic lover spins me away from my savior, but I fight back. Twirling back into my savior's arms.

ask for forgiveness, never permission. take what you want, take what you can. take what you please, don't give a damn, It's in the blood and this is tradition.

It’s a battle — a battle for my heart for my love. Both my toxic lover and my savior take each of my hands, pulling me back and forth. To and from them like I’m a doll that they want to play with.

take what you want, take what you can, take what you please, don't give a damn. ask for forgiveness, never permission.

I pull away from both of them, mouthing no at them both — telling them I was done with this game.

take what you want, take what you can, take what you please, don't give a damn. It's in the blood and this is tradition.

Both men stop still, staring at me as I spun. Over and over.

As the lights start to dim, as I slow to a stop. . .

I take the prop knife from out of behind my dress swiftly, plunging it into my heart.

I wouldn’t be either of theirs.

I chose myself.

“It’s good as gone”

The crowd cheered and clapped as the curtains closed in front of us. Hugging both the dancers that played my toxic lover and savior before pulling away, the curtains coming back up so we could take our bows.

And right as I took my final bow, I realized something. . .

Coming out of the studio Director Reeves used to tell us, one by one, if we got a job offer or not. I should have been excited, smiling, over the moon with happiness at having gotten a job offer from both the American Ballet Theatre in New York and the Paris Opera Ballet Company. Both companies that I would have died to work for.

But I wasn’t.

Instead I was anxious, worried, stressed out and I felt like I could cry at the drop of a hat.

Quickly texting my roommate Bridget, even though she was on her way backstage with Oliver to congratulate me on the night.

Asking her to pick me up something and meet me at home — with strict instructions not to tell Oliver.

It can’t be.

.

Sitting on the toilet by myself in just a t-shirt, what felt like hours instead of minutes. While Oliver was picking up dinner and Bridget was anxiously waiting outside.

My phone timer went off but it took me several minutes to finally look — palms sweaty and shaking.

Closing my greens knowing I was late. Later than I ever have been.

Two pink lines.

Tears pour down my features. Hugging lithe arms around my waist while I gasped for air. Knowing I was having a complete meltdown but I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop crying.

Because after all that I did. All that I worked for to get to where I was tonight. All that I gave up. That I lost.

I was pregnant . . . My life was ruined.

. . . And I had no idea who’s baby it was.

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lucyinlucifer · 3 years

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keep going.

keep your breath on me. . . and keep, keep, keep going, ‘til my body is free. keep your eyes on me, and keep, keep, keep going ‘til I'm the last thing you see. keep your touch on my skin and keep, keep, keep going. . . keep, keep, keep going. . .

“Oliver. . .”

His fingers danced their way down my hips — pulling my frame tightly against his. I could feel just how much he wanted me to stay home, the tip of his length pushing between my clothed cheeks. I couldn’t help pushing my ass back against him, a shiver running down my spine with that familiar need for him.

God I wish I could stay home with him.

Yes, home.

Was it a bit crazy letting a guy that I just met come home with me?

Maybe. Bridget thought so at least. But weren’t best friends supposed to second guess you?

But he just fit. Everything about him felt right and I wasn’t about to let that feeling go, especially not now. Not when my mind was spinning circles every time I was alone. I couldn’t be alone right now, and something told me he couldn’t either.

Something he wasn’t willing to share with me yet. But hey, I wasn’t either. Everyone had their secrets.

It was like we understood each other, understood that we both had pain. That we both have struggled. That we both needed each other.

“Baby, I really have to go to rehearsal.”

Spinning around in his grip, a little smirk pulling at my unblemished features.

Stealing a quick kiss before I was stuck in our room all day.

As much as I wanted to, this was our first day back to reversal after break. The first day without Cooper. I had to be there. I glanced over at my burner phone, noticing that I had several missed calls from my dad but there was no time. Letting out a sigh, tucking the cell in my bag so I could call him after rehearsal.

I had to show that everything was normal.

I’m normal.

I’m okay.

oh, you're taking me down, haunting my dreams, I'm at the end of the world with you. you're taking me on, haunting my heart. I'm at the end of the world with you.

Everything is fine, everything is fine, everything is fine.

Clutching my duffel bag a little harder to my side — the only thing keeping me grounded. The only thing keeping me from running out of Los Angeles Ballet Academy.

Everything was not fine, everything was not okay. My hands were shaking, palms sweaty. Everyone always told me, my whole life, that my face is an open book. I wear my heart on my sleeve. How am I supposed to act like everything is normal when I can’t control my expressions?

I couldn’t help going back and forth in my own head, tripping over my own thoughts, stressing myself out.

This was bad.

The familiar ring of my burner phone chimed. Even though I was running late, I couldn’t keep putting off my dad. Something was obviously wrong.

“Dad, what's up? I’m late for class.” I said the moment I answered the phone.

“Eve, I’ve been trying to call you for a week. Where have you been?”

“I’m sorry, I was in Vegas, what’s wr—“

I took a deep breath, closing greens before I finally walked into the studio.

And froze.

“He was there in his apartment Eve, he wasn’t dead. What’s going on with you? Why would you have me send the guys to someone’s apartment for a clean up when nothing was wrong?”

I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. The man that I thought was dead, the man that I shot, that I knew I killed. Was standing right in front of me. My dad’s frustrated and worried voice still in my ear.

“Eve, thank you for finally joining us. You’re late, go lace up and we’ll start where we left off before break.” Cooper’s brow rose annoyed, but there was humor dancing in his eyes.

“Dad, I have to go. . .”

keep your hands in my grip. . . and keep, keep, keep kissing 'til I'm on your trip. keep your words in my mouth, and keep, keep, keep going. . . keep, keep, keep, going. . .

“Eve?”

Blinking back several times before I finally met his gaze.

Not realizing that he was up close and personal now.

Lowering his voice so no one could hear.

“Where have you been? You just disappeared after we made up. What happened?”

Made up?

Cooper raised his voice when I didn’t respond. “Grazer, if you can’t be prepared like the rest of the group you should just leave.”

“No, I’m fine.” I finally spoke up, rushing over to the bench to change into my pointe shoes. Trying to figure out what the fuck happened.

What the fuck happened?

oh, you're taking me down. . . haunting my dreams, I’m at the end of the world with you. you're taking me on, haunting my heart. . .I'm at the end of the world with you.

Rehearsal went smoothly, well, just as smoothly as it could with a dead guy.

He was dead. I saw him. With my own two eyes. . . At least I thought I did.

Was I seeing things that night? Like I was in Vegas?

Am I going crazy?

I rushed out of the studio as quickly as I could the moment we were finished, ignoring Cooper trying to talk to me on the way out.

Something happened.

But what?

oh, you're taking me down, haunting my dreams. I'm at the end of the world with you. you're taking me on, haunting my heart. I'm at the end of the world with you.

I made it home in record time, not even aware of how I got here. Lyft? The Metro? It was all a blur.

I needed Oliver. . . And it’s like he knew.

The moment I entered the door his strong arms found their way around my waist. It was like I could finally breathe.

“I can’t. . . I think. . .”

I let him comfort me, silence me like a small child with his soft shushing sounds. I couldn’t stop shaking, tears streaming down my features.

“Will you marry me?”

My greens found his gaze, thinking that I was definitely going crazy because there was no way he just asked me to marry him. But here he was, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs. Looking so sure of himself.

Pouty lips found his, pulling him down, refusing to let go. This was it, this is what I need.

I need to be safe.

He can keep me safe.

“Yes, oh my god Oliver, yes.”

my words, your heart. my end, my start. your taste, my mouth. your game, my crown. my words, your heart. your end, my start.

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lucyinlucifer · 3 years

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when running wild turns volatile.

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lucyinlucifer · 3 years

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Got me flying high, right where you want me to. Watch it, watch me burn, right where you want me to. Dim the light, my lullaby. Touch me now, stop pretending. Fuck it, watch me burn.

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lucyinlucifer · 4 years

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I feel like I’m drowning.

You keep dreaming and dark scheming, you're a poison and I know that is the truth. All my friends think you're vicious, and they say you're suspicious. You keep dreaming and dark scheming, yeah you do.

“Eve! You need to stay on that leg!” Cooper yelled out as I completed the fouettés, knowing my leg had wobbled a little in the middle as I continuously spinned.

“I know, I’m sorry…” I took a deep breath, glancing over at Charlie the lead ballerina opposite of me. We had been practicing together for weeks, getting ready for The Workshop that was approaching in less than a week.

“I don’t want you to be sorry, Eve. I need you to get it, I need you to be perfect!”

“Man, she’s working on it. Can’t you see she’s exhausted?” Charlie quipped, a palm on his side as he watched the exchange.

Cooper stared at Charlie for a moment, while I backed up against the wall trying to catch my breath. I felt out of shape, shaky from not doing drugs for the past month because I needed to focus on ballet. But instead I was still feigning for what made me forget all my problems.

I feel like I'm drowning...You're holding me down and holding me down. You're killing me slow, I feel like I'm drowning.

“Is that it Eve, are you tired?” Cooper strode towards me, slamming his palms against the wall on either side of my features.

Blues blinked back, not expecting such an outburst in the middle of rehearsal. “Maybe if you actually focused instead of fucking your new little boy toy you wouldn’t be so tired, Eve. Get your shit together or get the fuck out of my studio.”

His voice was so low only I could hear, but Charlie could see the shock and fear painted over my features. “Cooper, I’m not sleeping with—“

“I don’t want to fucking hear it!” Cooper slammed one of his palms against the wall again.

“Man, lay off her!” Charlie pulled the other male away from me by his forearm, shoving him forcefully away.

“Charlie, it’s okay!” But before I could stop Charlie from approaching Cooper again the choreographer’s fist connected with the ballerina's nose.

The rest of the ballerinas in the studio gasped, cussed, and ran over to Charlie with me to help him up from the floor.

“Both of you, get the fuck out of my studio until you realize who your fucking boss is!”

You're so plastic and that's tragic, I don't know what the hell you gonna do when your looks start depleting...And your friends all start leaving. You're so plastic and that's tragic...Just for you.

“Are you okay…?” I pressed an ice pack against the side of Charlie’s nose, bottom lip tucked firmly between my teeth. I knew his nose wasn’t broken, having seen plenty broken noses growing up. But this was my fault, all my fault and I felt like even though I was sober my life was still a mess.

“I’m fine, I promise. Stop blaming yourself, Eve. I can hear you thinking.”

We both laughed at the same time, letting go of the ice pack so he can take it on his own.

“He should treat you better.”

I shook my head, laughing once more as I tucked long legs underneath me.

“Charlie, a choreographer is never going to care what a ballerina thinks.”

“No, but as your boyfriend—“

Shaking my head before he could finish his sentence, delicate fingers running through my hair. “He’s not my boyfriend, we did hook up once… Once.”

“Ah, well then he seems a little too hung up on you… Maybe you should talk to Director Reeves about him?”

“I can’t…” Letting out an audible sigh, leaning back against the couch. “You know I can’t. You know no one in rehearsal will say anything either. Without his play, Charlie. We don’t have a future. I’m stuck.”

I feel like I'm drowning, you're holding me down and you're killing me slow. I feel like I'm drowning. Yeah, just when you're not around me. My life's okay, just when you're not around me.

“What are you doing here?” Cooper leaned against his door, blues finding mine with a smug grin plastered across his features.

“You were right, it’s your play. You’re in charge. I’m sorry and I won’t let what happened today happen again.”

The back of his palm came up to run over my cheek, my blues dropping to my boots. I didn’t want to do this. But this was my future, and I couldn’t let him ruin it.

Boots tapped against the wood floor as he led me into his living room, watching him sit on his couch...Waiting for me.

As I knealed on the floor between his legs, I pulled the revolver my father gave me before I moved here; silencer in place out of the back of my jeans.

“You will not fuck with my future.”

Before he could get up I pulled the trigger, the bullet hitting him between the eyes. This was what it was like killing someone…

I pulled out my IPhone, pressing the name of the person I would always turn to when I needed them.

“Maddie...I need help…I don’t know what to do.”

My life's okay, when you're not around me. My life's okay.

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lucyinlucifer · 4 years

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Is it just me?

I hate holding babies and people tryna save me. Think religion is a business where you pay for God's forgiveness. Modern art is boring, politicians are annoying. I don't think love lasts forever, and old music was better.

You’re not supposed to know what you want when you’re fifteen. You’re supposed to go to dances, study, hang out with your friends and kiss boys. What was I doing? I was in my room, practicing my pirouettes.

I could hear my cousin Maddie in her room listening to her music, the walls pulsing the base was so loud. Did she have a boy in her room? At twenty-one she was one of the most popular girls in Charming, while I’m the weird dancer girl still in high school with legs that were too long and boobs that were too small.

The only boy I ever had in my room was Juice, who had been my best friend since I was six. That’s all we were, just friends. We kissed last year, but it wasn’t one of /those/ kisses. Just two fourteen-year-olds wanting to see what it was like. Which, it was nice, but I didn’t like it because he acted so weird afterwards; running home and not coming around for the next couple weeks. My mom keeps saying he has a crush on me, but that’s what moms did. Say embarrassing things.

Dad was off on a trip to god knows where, my mom making us supper in the kitchen. Juice was planning on staying the night, but for some reason he wouldn’t sleep in the same bed with me anymore. Boys are so weird.

“Should we go to that party tonight?” Juice quipped from his spot on my bed, his browns roaming the copy of American Iron Magazine while I practiced.

I let out a sigh, spinning to face him in my pointe shoes; my dad had installed a balance beam in my room when I was seven (after I begged for months) and wood floors so I could practice whenever I wanted. “Do we /have/ to? I was thinking maybe we can just stay here, watch the new Harry Potter or something.”

His browns rolled to the ceiling and my face fell, knowing I was going to lose this battle. He’d been asking me to go for weeks. But really if I told Madison I wanted to stay and watch Harry Potter she would stay with me, but then he’d be bummed.

“Evie, it’ll be fun I promise! Harley is going to be there and Taylor, so no one will make fun of you. We won’t let them.”

And with that I spun back towards the balance beam, trying not to cry. Harley was my other cousin, only three years older (eighteen) than me and Juice, and was interested in joining the SONS with my dad. Harley and Maddie’s dad was in the MC as well when he was alive, there was nothing keeping Harley away from following in our father’s footsteps and Juice was going with him. Juice had always looked up to my dad like his own father, probably because his own skipped out on him and his mom when he was six. That’s how we met, he was crying under the slide and I found him. Told him how my uncle killed himself and left my cousins alone, and he could come and talk to them. Feels like a lifetime ago.

“I don’t need everyone to protect me! I’m not a child.” Letting out a little huff, refusing to look him in the eye.

“I’ll come.”

Am I just high or am I kinda right? Is it just me or does anybody feel the way that I feel? They're just not being real. Tell me, is it just me or is anybody thinking all the same shit? They're just not saying it, or is it just me?

Blues open as I finish a pirouette — Is it just me? By Sasha Sloan echoing though-out the empty studio. My palm squeezed the balance beam next to me, thinking that maybe if I squeezed the wood hard enough I would start to feel balanced myself.

October felt like the longest month — and I couldn’t stop thinking about Lucas… I hadn’t heard from him since he left me at the club. My knees were starting to heal, but the pain of possibly losing my best friend wouldn’t heal the way my tanned skin did.

Being with my family was always a mix of emotions — pain because the thought that my cousins parents, and my mother couldn’t be there for our biggest moments. Happiness because I truly loved them, and needed them more than I needed air sometimes. Heartbreak, because even on the most beautiful days I couldn’t stop thinking about Juice. How he would have been by my side, squeezing my palm when I’m upset. How he would know exactly what to say in the moments I didn’t.

I let myself feel the music, dancing around the room with bare feet. Just wanting to feel everything, all the pain and love that I’ve been feeling — everything that I’ve wanted to say to my family, to Lucas… All of it poured out of my lithe frame while I spun and twirled.

Weddings are outdated, the show Friends was overrated. I think rich kids have it easy and PDA is creepy. The Internet's obnoxious, people my age make me nauseous. I think marijuana's classy and doing coke is trashy.

The desert was cold even in my warmest jacket, I couldn’t get warm. But that was the thing about the desert, it was ruthless. Either too hot to handle, or too cold. Another reason to complain that Juice made me come to the party.

He was off getting us another drink, I could hear Maddie giggle with her friends and Harley was jumping over the bonfire — playing it cool for his friends. And here I was, standing as far away from the fire as I could in the dark wanting to disappear.

“The youngest Grazer…”

The boy's lips brushed against the side of my neck, whispering in my ear. Goosebumps covered my frame, jumping away from his touch.

“What do you want, Adam?” I knew the sound of his voice almost as well as I knew Juice’s. The boy that had bullied me every day since I was a child.

“I want to know what you’re doing here, Eve.” He slurred his words, moving closer to me.

“I’m here with Juice and my cousins…” Blues glanced around me, seeing that my best friend was still pumping out beer from the keg.

“Oh I know why they’re here, they belong here. But /you/, you don’t belong here.”

He stated louder, stepping in front of me — his strong palm wrapping around my delicate wrist. “Look, they wanted me to come so I came.”

I tugged my wrist back, only for him to grip it tighter. “You need to get the fuck out of here, before I make you.”

Before I knew it Adam was on the sand — my small palm clutched to my side, knuckles aching. I punched him… Me.

Adam held his nose, blood spilling down to his chin. “You fucking cunt.”

As he started to get up I heard a roar of laughing behind me; Maddie, Harley and Juice walking up to both of my sides.

“You really want to get up again, Adam? Eve looks like she’s gonna knock you out again.” Juice laughed again, a dark brow popping up.

Maddie gave me a little nudge on my arm, like she was proud of me for standing up for myself. Harley clapped a palm on my back.

My family. Showing that they’d have my back, no matter what.

If I needed it.

Am I just high or am I kinda right? Is it just me or does anybody feel the way that I feel? They're just not being real. Tell me, is it just me or is anybody thinking all the same shit? They're just not saying it, or is it just me?

Tears poured down unblemished cheeks, sitting campfire style in the center of the studio — palms pressed against my blues, trying to stop the waterworks. That’s the thing about being a Cancer, or at least me; when I’m overwhelmed, upset, mad… Tears… And I hated that about myself.

Taking a deep breath, letting the music flow through me, reminding me to be myself. To be real, to feel the way I need to feel.

The Workshop was approaching, I had to start focusing.

I should probably bite my tongue, but I can't be the only one, yeah. I should probably bite my tongue, but I can't be the only one.

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lucyinlucifer · 4 years

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—nothing comes easily, fill this empty space. Nothing is like it seems, turn my grief to grace

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lucyinlucifer · 4 years

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—to the lows and every high, the hellos and the goodbyes. In this moment, I could die with you. Never felt like this feel before. Dizzy, drunk, and beautiful, in this moment, I let go with you.

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lucyinlucifer · 4 years

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I won’t.

Slow down, try to breathe in deep...Listen to the words I speak, does it feel like your whole world's fading? Slow down, just slow down.

The night before.

He had left her, she was alone. The one person she thought always had her back, always kept her safe, left her with bloody knees outside of their favorite club Lure while he drove away without her.

Without her.

Lucas had always told her that he wasn’t going anywhere, that no matter what, they would always have each other. When he found her in the arms of his drummer, tears pouring down her features — he jumped into action, beating his drummer bloody for hurting her

But he didn’t hurt her, Alex did nothing wrong — it was her, thinking of everything that had happened. High out of her mind on molly. It wasn’t Alex’s fault, but he took all of Lucas’ rage.

Photos and videos were taken of the lead singer and drummer brawling on the floor, of her pulling Lucas off of the ground — telling him that it wasn’t Alex’s fault.

She didn’t know Lucas wasn’t sober, that he fell off the wagon — too high to worry about anything but herself. When Lucas ran off, she followed, thinking that she could catch up with him, thinking they could talk about the whole thing.

That was why they went out in the first place, to talk about whatever was going on with Lucas. But all she could think about was the red head that was in his arms several nights ago, and how her own feelings for her best friend were getting confusing.

But she never caught up with Lucas, he left her. Standing with one broken heel, watching him drive away.

All she could remember was Cooper giving her a ride home after that.

Calling out for help, out for help. Waiting to save yourself, save yourself. From falling into deep, into deep. Stop running, stop hiding.

Sunshine coming from the blinds had her stirring awake, pounding head — dark locks a mess around flawless features. A soft groan escaped pouty lips as she rolled onto her back, the mattress soft underneath her lithe form. Too soft, not her bed. Blues glanced over next to her, Cooper’s larger frame still asleep.

She let out an audible sigh, pulling up the down comforter on top of her — revealing that she still had her stained red satin dress upon her body. She didn’t /feel/ like she had sex, which made her feel better. Not because she wasn’t attracted to Cooper, he was handsome, tall, chiseled from being in ballet his whole life. He’s not Lucas. Why did she just think that? This was all too much.

What was the director supposed to think of her, that not only did she fuck him in a dirty club — forget about doing so, and then take her home because she was too distraught to get herself home.

Fuck.

Running delicate fingers through dark locks as she sat up, glancing over at the blonde once again. This time he was staring right back at her.

“You okay over there?”

He didn’t seem upset, mostly just tired — his voice still groggy from sleep. “Yeah, I think so… I just have a headache, do you have any Tylenol?”

“In the bathroom, medicine cabinet…” He yawned, rubbing his greens with the backs of his palms.

She got up from the bed, bare feet padding over to his bathroom — basically on her tiptoes the whole time. That was the thing about being a dancer your whole life, you walked like you were in your pointe shoes all the time. Why she wore heels most of the time, she was used to the arch.

“So, I want to thank you for taking me here… I really appreciate it.” Her voice was still raspy from her hangover and the fact that it was only eight a.m., helping herself to some Tylenol before washing the pills down with the water from his bathroom sink.

He sat up in the bed, greens practically burrowing into her blues once she was finished. “Look, I don’t care what you do for fun. But you’re in my ballet, and your future is on a platter here. Do you have a problem?”

Her bottom lip was tucked firmly between blunt teeth, leaning against the doorframe of his bathroom. Did she have a drug problem? She knew the answer, but she wasn’t ready to say it out loud. Because then she would have to do something about it. Instead of answering she shook her head, staring him right in his greens.

“No, I just had a hard night. I promise.”

His laugh made it seem like he knew she was lying, but he didn’t seem to want to press it.

“Well let’s get you some breakfast then yeah? Here, you can wear my sweater. Your shoes are done for, but I’ll just grab us some takeout on our way to drop you off at your place.”

I won't let you down, my friend. I won't let you fight alone. I won't leave you in the cold on your own. I won't let you down, my friend.

Back at her place, showered and in a fresh pair of sweats, ugly feet tucked underneath her legs as she sat on her couch — Bridget sitting on the other side.

“Are we going to talk about the fact that Cooper Nielsen just dropped you off?”

The blonde stared at her with a mix of awe, confusion, and fear. Instead of responding Eve shook her head, playing with the hem of the white tank top she was wearing.

“Okay, are we going to talk about the fact that your favorite dress and shoes are ruined, and your legs looked like they went through battle when you walked in?”

Eve shook her head again, not walking to talk about what happened with Lucas with the girl that had been fucking him off and on for years. She loved her roommate, but for some reason talking about what happened with the blonde just felt uncomfortable.

“Well, when you’re ready to talk let me know okay? I’m going to get you some coffee.”

Smiling softly at her roommate, “Thanks, girl. I appreciate it.”

Bridget’s small palm pressed against Eve’s knee for a moment, gently, knowing it was scrapped up. When the blonde was gone Eve let herself melt fully into the couch, picking her iPhone up from the couch cushion. She wanted to text Lucas, she really did. But a part of her couldn’t forgive him for leaving her last night, and she was too stubborn to do so first.

Were things going to be the same between them after last night? Or was their friendship actually done, the way she feared it would for the past year.

Calm down, come and sit with me now. Pour out whatever is weighing you down. I'm here to hold you up again. Calm down, calm down.

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lucyinlucifer · 4 years

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—don’t you know too much already? I'll only hurt you if you let me. Call me friend but keep me closer...And I'll call you when the party's over.

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lucyinlucifer · 4 years

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—feeling low sometimes when the light shines down...Makes me high, can you feel it?

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lucyinlucifer · 4 years

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Wish I could.

Wish I could, I could’ve said goodbye. I would’ve said what I wanted to, might’ve even cried for you. If I knew it would be the last time, I would’ve broke my heart in two… Tryna save a part of you.

4 years ago.

“What if I don’t make it? What if I’m not good enough?” Pacing back in forth, dainty palms pressing against slim hips. I was having a panic attack, ten minutes before the audition of my life — ten minutes before my future was decided. Juice and I had traveled the two hours to LA so I could audition for the Los Angeles Ballet Academy, and I was going to ruin it all.

“Babe, you gotta calm down, look you’re going to ruin your pretty shoes.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at him, a wide grin painted over flawless features as I glanced down at my pointe shoes. They were so beat up from years of breaking them in — whacking them against walls, bending them, pouring water on them. A ballerina's pointe shoes were everything, worked on and beat on until they were perfect — and they still wrecked my feet.

“I’m being serious Juice, what if I fuck up? What am I going to do then?”

He stood up from his spot against the wall, wrapped his strong arms around my small frame. “Then you’ll try again somewhere else, New York, wherever you want… And I’ll go with you. But honestly babe, LABA would be crazy not to have you. You’re perfect.

His lips met mine with ease — light, simple, but sweet like he would be kissing me forever.

“I love you…” I whispered against his lips, just in time for the judges to call me into the studio.

Don’t wanna feel another touch, don’t wanna start another fire. Don’t wanna know another kiss, no other name fallin’ off my lips. Don’t wanna give my heart away, to another stranger… Or let another day begin, won’t even let the sunlight in. No, I’ll never love again… I’ll never love again.

My clothes dripped of sweat, feet killed, but I couldn’t be more happy. Cooper’s first rehearsal went better than I expected it to. The part was made for me, and I showed the director that every second of the four hours we spent going over his ballet with the rest of the cast.

It was like nothing I had seen before, a rock/pop music-based ballet that was going to change the world of ballet. Nothing like Swan Lake or Romeo and Juliet, it almost felt like he had based the choreography off of the academy itself – at least that was the rumor going around.

Sitting down, untying the laces of my pointe shoes as the rest of the cast left the studio, a smile touching sweaty features that actually reached my blues for once. Lucas had a gig that I was going to swing by to — surprise him since it had been so long since he’d played. A pretty perfect end to a great day.

“I knew you were the right fit.” Cooper kneeled down next to me, a cocky smirk playing on his features.

I couldn’t help but grin right back, thinking that the director that I was so excited about really believed in me as a dancer. “Thank you! You know, I think the ballet is going to be fantastic, it’s so not LABA.”

One of his palms came up to brush against my cheek, his blues glancing down my frame. “It’s not, but Reeves is going to have to get used to it. Listen, how about you come back to my place and we have round two?”

My smile dropped right away, blues meeting his in confusion. “I… Mr. Nielsen what are you talking about?”

Standing up, wanting some space from the director — tossing my pointe shoes in the gym bag I had brought before slipping on some slides.

“Oh tiny dancer… You don’t remember the other night? At Lure? Well, I could never forget, you’re exquisite.”

It took a moment for me to realize what he was talking about. Me.. Waking up aching like I had sex, it was him. Quickly I threw my bag over my shoulder, jaw opening and closing several times.

“I’m so sorry, but I have to go.”

Before he could say a word I was out the door, running down the hallway to the locker room. I had sex with Cooper Nielsen, my director, the choreographer of the ballet that would make or break my career. The morning after pill I took was still making me nauseous — so much so I couldn’t help throwing up into the toilet.

Was that why he chose me as the lead? Because I had sex with him in a dirty club? I let the water run in the shower for several minutes before I started washing up, but once I started I couldn’t feel clean. How could I ever be clean enough? I felt so dirty, like a whore begging for money, I got the part because I had sex with the director.

When we first met...I never thought that I would fall. I never thought that I'd find myself, lying in your arms… And I wanna pretend that it's not true. Oh, baby, that you're gone. 'Cause my world keeps turnin', and turnin', and turnin'....And I'm not movin' on.

I felt dazed the whole Lyft ride to see Lucas, having stared out the window the whole time — ignoring the poor driver the whole time. But what was I going to tell the man? That I just found out I fucked someone I really shouldn’t have fucked.

No, the only person I wanted to see was Lucas. He would understand, would help me figure out the nonsense of my life. Maybe I should sober up like him, maybe he could help me do it.

"I wanted the world and I took it. With bloody hands and no care in my mind— I took everything I wanted, and look at where it's got me? Yeah, look at where it's got me."

I pushed through the smaller crowd, following the sound of my best friend's voice. This was exactly what I needed, to see him. To hear his voice.

"I wanted to be a man for the kings, ruining the world and making you bend at your knees. I wanted to feel the way your screams could echo down my hall, Begging for more, begging for me. Look at where it's got me."

I could have swore he saw me, his piercing blue gaze meeting my own for a moment. But then some guy stepped in front of me, making me move off to the side so I could see the musician more clearly. I was in a simple white tee, ripped jeans and a leather jacket with my hair framing my flawless features. Simple, different for me. But that’s what I wanted tonight. Easy, simple, and Lucas.

"Do you still want me to be your king? Come on baby, get on your knees. Let me see what all this mess has done for me.”

As he sang I couldn’t help but watch the way he moved, how his palms held onto the microphone — lips inches away like he was making love with it.

Blinking several times, wondering where that thought came from. Wondering why my lithe form started stirring, heart racing.

What did all this mean?

Don't wanna feel another touch, don’t wanna start another fire. Don't wanna know another kiss, no other name fallin' off my lips. Don't wanna give my heart away, to another stranger… Or let another day begin, won't even let the sunlight in. No, I'll never love...I don't wanna know this feelin', unless it's you and me. I don't wanna waste a moment...And I don't wanna give somebody else the better part of me, I would rather wait for you.

His set went perfect, the crowd intoxicated not only by the booze and drugs they were on, but by the way Lucas made them feel. Made me feel. I hadn’t had a sip to drink, and I was fresh out of drugs — the whole set was taken in fully, freely without any substances clouding my mind.

On my way backstage I couldn’t help but think how incredible he was, and how much I wanted to tell him. How much I wanted to just go get a pizza and talk about how shitty my night was until I came to see him, how he turned my whole night around.

His drummer Alex tried to stop me, but I was on a mission and not fucked enough to hook up with him — making him settle with a wave and a smile.

By the time I got to Lucas’ dressing room I was beaming, glancing over my shoulder at the roadies carrying out speakers and instruments as I opened the door.

I wish I never looked forward.

He was pressed up against a girl, lips on hers, arms wrapped around her curvaceous form. I wasn’t like that, I would never look like that… The moment he turned his face towards me I was gone, not wanting him to notice it was me. The moment was over.

Don't wanna feel another touch, don’t wanna start another fire. Don't wanna know another kiss...Baby, unless they are your lips. Don't wanna give my heart away to another stranger. Don't let another day begin, won't let the sunlight in. Oh, I'll never love again….Never love again.

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lucyinlucifer · 4 years

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—my only one, my smoking gun, my eclipsed sun. This has broken me down. My twisted knife, my sleepless night, my winless fight. This has frozen my ground.

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lucyinlucifer · 4 years

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—cause I really wanted to. Really needed you, and though I keep holding on even when you're gone. With no signals, no signals, I wanted to love you. I'm still here because of you. Once were my reason for living, the shiver down my skin.

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