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MARIA

That night was one I could never forget.

It was late.

Dream was practically empty asides from a few desperate dancers, practicing with burning, bruised and sore feet, at a constant battle with themselves to reach perfection and rise to the top.

We were part of one of the few scattered throughout the building, earnestly dancing to improve. I always worked hard; back then, I used to stay back at the school, despite coming in the morning, to practice for hours in the evening and early morning, just to become who I was, a glorified star. Nothing was ever handed to me; even though the company was to be mine, I never got any of the benefits of being my mother's daughter.

I had to work harder than anyone else in that school, to prove to others and to myself that I could make it, that I could be what the industry desired. I had been through countless of set backs, disappointing outcomes and abuse from all sorts of people. But I never backed down and fought for what I wanted the most - my dream.

That was part of the reason why I was there so late that evening.

I should've went home. The exhaustion that night was too much. I had been finding it difficult to sleep well those past few days and hadn't been eating right. After struggling to keep up during the lessons, I disciplined myself to stay back and continue practicing to reach the level my peers were quickly approaching.

I was always so tired back then and depressed. There were so many nights where I would cry myself to sleep, bruised and sore, just thinking about the future.

Expecting to be alone that night, as usual I practiced normally, the room was always sweltering hot whenever I finished, the windows blurry and the air stuffy. It wasn't a good enough day if I didn't leave, wincing with every single step I look.

The blood had soaked through my shoes then and once again, I knew that I would have to buy another pair. My feet were stinging, each step felt like I was walking on hot lava, burning my feet. I held back the tears fighting to come out from the pain soaring through my legs. I knew I had overworked myself, but at least the benefit of being on top was worth the torture.

Once I had reached the changing rooms, I pulled off my clothes slowly, yanking off the sticky leotard that clutched onto my skin from all the sweat. I dabbed my face and neck with a small towel, getting rid of the liquid rolling down my skin then continued to undress myself, ready for the shower.

It was all I looked forward to during the day, the feeling of the hot water trickling down my body, soothing every single scar and wound inflicting pain on me. The smell of the fresh, healing soap filling my nostrils, the feeling of it sliding across my smooth skin, removing every single impurity and dirt on me. It was great to feel clean.

Wrapping a small towel around my body, I slid on my shoes and went to enter the dressing room again, feeling satisfied as I thought over the useful hours of practice that I had endured. Discipline was key, if I hadn't been so strict on myself, I wouldn't have such a perfect outcome. I smiled a little, just thinking about how much better I had become.

But when I reached the room, there he was, his back facing me.

Immediately, my heart missed a beat and I lost control of my breathing at the sight of him. I stiffened, my hand clutching onto the towel, my eyes wide and filled with terror as I watched how he locked the door, slowly turning and facing me.

He was furious.

Instantly, panic brewed within me.

My lips opened, shaking a little. I blinked rapidly, forcing the tears to dissipate as I stared at him in fear, beginning to tremble.

His eyes were darker, a cold and menacing look was on him, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand.

He wasn't always like that. He used to be caring. He loved me way more than I ever could. I couldn't say that I loved him; there was no man that I could ever truly love more than Leonardo. Jorge was someone who managed to have a temporary place in my heart. But it was useless; I went for a man who could never ever be good for me.

"Jorge. . ." My voice came out quiet and meek. I felt the increasing pressure in my chest for breath; the last thing I wanted to have was a panic attack right in front of him right then.

I looked down and bit my bottom lip, feeling the gravity of the uneasy atmosphere in the room.

He deeply chuckled in a ominous way, glancing around the room before scoffing. "You dirty, fucking slut. You just couldn't keep your hands off him, could you?" My eyebrows furrowed as I blinked a few times, confused as to what he meant. Earlier that day, there had been a brunch for the dancers. I questioned mentally if he was referring to that event.

"What do you mean? You can't come in here and accuse me of bullshit like that," I retorted but I was unable to maintain eye contact with such a powerful gaze. He was closer then, his chest right in front of my face. He slowly lifted my chin, forcing me to look up at him.

With disgust he leaned into my neck, he growled, "you liked it, didn't you? All of those stares, his arm around you feeling you up. You wanted him to fuck you, didn't you?" He laughed in a menacing way, his hand unexpectedly wrapping my throat and tightening it, my eyes widened at the sudden loss of air. He was delusional and I was broken and weak at that time. Unbelievably, Jorge was talking about a party and a very respectful dance I accepted. He hated it when I spoke to other men.

I whimpered as the tears spilled out of my eyes, my hands clutching onto his as I struggled to pry them off me. "Get out! Get. .off me!" I fought to quaver, the fear crawling all over my body. He had my back against the wall, his raged filled eyes burning into me as he pressed on harder, causing me to gasp and choke, my hands pulling onto his arms for survival. I couldn't beg, I would never beg to him.

"I want to hear it, treasure, who the fuck do you belong to?" He frighteningly questioned with his accent coming though in a hard and authoritative tone. I fought back the tears, gasping for air, I couldn't resist any longer and let out, "you." There were so many different people I had spoken to that night and I had tried to avoid every single male that would approach me. But it was never good enough for him. With a single look towards me, he would later attack the men then punish me after. But he wasn't always like this, the possessiveness grew as my popularity did, bringing out his toxic traits.

He loosened his grip, swiftly pulling off the towel preserving my dignity, the cold air slamming against my bare body and when he lifted me up, I shut my eyes to block him out. His breath fanned against my ear as he reiterated, "you're mine, treasure, only mine. Stop forcing me to remind you." The tears endlessly streamed down my cheeks as I gripped onto his shoulders.

From the moment he entered the company, he was interested in me. Initially, I thought it was cute, a foreign model-like man going out of his way all the time to show affection. The intense sexual attraction was there from the beginning, the constant gazes during practice, the wild nights at the clubs. I wasn't a virgin before him, he was the second. It wasn't long before we started screwing each other secretly. The back of the practice rooms at night, his dorm, his car. I wanted it, I was attracted to him from the start. It was supposed to just be sex until he overstepped the boundary.

I didn't realise that it was happening to me, that he was brainwashing me. I lost the backbone earned from my past and the strong exterior I had for myself had dissipated. He manipulated me from the get go, controlling who I spoke to, where I would go, when we would me. It was to the point where, I couldn't breathe and be alone without him discreetly watching me, preying upon me. He destroyed my self confidence for a long time and was a catalyst to my bulimia.

I never really understood my feelings towards him. I did like him and whatever he did do to me, my body wanted it, reacted to it. I was used to it, his roughness, his desire to be dominant. I still experienced pleasure, my body responded exactly how it should've and I didn't fight back. Therefore I wrongly believed it was consensual. It was only later on when I realised how wrong it all was. He enjoyed it rough. That was his expertise. But it shaped how I saw intercourse later on, I couldn't stand aggressive sex.

I felt embarrassed and shameful after that summer when he left, with the other Russian students that had come to train, for falling into his trap. The day that he left, I had never been more thankful in my entire life to be free of his chains.

It took a while to get into the right mindset again, to understand how much I was affected and to change. I had the support from Iris and Rosa but they didn't know the whole truth. I vowed to never let a man do such a thing to me again and yet there I was, being stalked, harassed by another man.

I felt pathetic, used and weak.

                Just like my mother, I let a man manipulate me.

After practice, I knew that he was following me.

As soon as the dressing room door shut, I grabbed the knife I kept under my table and swung for him, lightly slicing his cheek. Fury surged within me.

Breathlessly, I glowered at him, watching him touch his cheek dripping with blood as he scoffed in disbelief, chuckling a little.

"Wow. .what a welcome, flower!" he commented in an amused tone, his eyes filled with playfulness, which I hated, checking out every single part of my body.

"I told you, didn't I?" I began in a hard tone, shaking with anger as I slammed him against the wall, pushing the knife against his neck. I had to hold myself back from slicing his throat right then and there. "I fucking told you to leave and to never come back," I snarled, pressing the blade against his skin as he grinned, not even bothering to fight back when enraged me even more.

"Why the hell did you come back?" I sneered, feeling my face getting hot as my blood boiled. He laughed, making a cooing sound, "you look so sexy when you're mad, малыш {baby}."

That was it. My knee came into contact with his crotch, shocking him as he grunted in pain, doubling over. I smacked the back of the knife against his temple, grabbing his head and whacking it against the wall, about to punch him until he grabbed my wrists which made me drop the knife, forcefully pulling me to his lips. I tugged them away from him, managing a hard slap against his face as I pulled away, ready to grab the knife until he kicked it away.

"Fucking-" he pulled me then I shrieked, turning us so my back was pressed against the wall. I scratched his face as I hit him, making him yelp before pushing his chest hard so he bumped into the small desk, making it fall to the side then I hit him again with the lamp, the glass shattering and sprinkling all over the floor.

I took the knife, ready to stab but he grabbed me pushing me onto the wall again with my hands behind my back. I frustratingly groaned, trying to free myself as he snatched the knife from me, his hands tightly wrapped around my wrists. He then placed it against my neck, chuckling again as he pressed his body against me, kissing my cheek. I shook my head away from him.

"Oh, baby, why are you playing so roughly today? Did you miss me?"

"Fuck. You," I snapped, shaking myself as I tried to move. My head tilted backwards away from the blade, dangerously close to slicing me. I couldn't do much with that against me. "Let go of me, Jorge!" 

He turned me so we were facing the mirror, his arm wrapping around my waist. I clenched my teeth together, unable to hit him.

I watched how he buried his head into the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply as he planted a few kisses across my collarbone. "Don't you remember how good it was? My touch. You taste so fucking nice, драгоценная кукла {precious doll}."

I squeezed my eyes closed in disgust for a moment. "I told you that I would end you if you came back. Do you have a fucking death wish?"

"Maybe I do," Jorge teased, continuing to suck my neck, gripping onto the knife tightly. He moaned, his body pressing harder against mine. "I love seeing you mad, it turns me on, shit."

"Don't you miss it? Those nights? I remember how much you'd cry just for me."

"You won't leave here alive, let go of me!" I demanded, failing to elbow him as he tightened his hold on me. "I am not the girl you used to toy with before, Jorge. Don't think you can play with me or any other person here! Leave while I'm being nice."

"Maybe I want you to be more mean if it makes you angry for me," he laughed, nibbling my ear. "They need me, not many dancers will fill in for a performance that's coming up so soon. You don't want to disappoint the fans, do you? You'd mess up the whole event trying to catch someone up."

I rolled my eyes at his pathetic excuse, "many dancers would be more than willing to fill in, the world doesn't revolve around you, Jorge."

"You want them to know about us? Is that why? You do realise kicking me out is a loss for the company and you. People will be suspicious why only you pushed for me to leave."

He had a point but I wasn't going to let him know that.

"There is no 'us'. I saw the allegations, you sick bastard. You think it won't be that hard to kick you out?"

"Not convicted," Jorge carelessly responded with a chortle as he shrugged. "I'm very much loved by everyone, maybe not so much by you."

"You-"

"I saw your engagement news. I'm not huge fan of the Romanos so I'll have to deal with them later."

I snorted in disbelief, "you can fucking try."

He touched my ring, laughing again. "How ridiculous. ." He whispered into my ear playfully, "it doesn't have to stop us, cupcake." I felt the rage soaring throughout me, my lips curled in anger.

"I won't let you stay-"

"Oh really?" He gleefully joshed, leaving his disgusting kisses on my neck again. "Hmm. . .well, maybe I should remind you of a particular evening we shared together back then. .the one where you. ." He trailed off and chucked in an amused tone.

"I'm sure you have a confession to make to the Don of the Italian mafia, kitten. Do you want me to make it easier for you? I could tell him."

My eyes expanded shock as I tensed up, the strong front I had quickly fractured within seconds of his words. The colour drained in my face as I stared at him through the window in horror, no longer struggling against him. He laughed before moaning again as he sucked.

"Y-You. . ." I was at a loss of words, the fear running throughout my body, perpetuated at his words.

He remembered my drunken mistake.

A secret I was supposed to keep for a lifetime.

I suddenly felt afraid, very afraid of his power. He was once again in control.

"I remember it perfectly," Jorge murmured, his hand slowly sliding down me and onto my chest, resting on top of my cleavage. His finger slid between my breasts, sighing in satisfaction. I couldn't move, I was frozen in his arms, terrified of what he'd say, with no idea what to do.

He then placed his hand between my legs, drumming his fingers slowly against my leotard, chuckling again.

His amusement subsided as he pressed the knife harder against my skin, a small, red line appearing on me as I shivered, unable to speak.

"Listen carefully, Maria. I don't want to hurt you, gorgeous, so don't push me. I stay and your secret remains hidden. I have things to do here too. Any funny business and it goes to your darling fiancé," he callously warned in a unfeeling tone. "I won't force you for anything else. .well, unless you want it," he laughed, pressing against me. "That's all I can offer you. You've got to have some sympathy, I've got things I need to do here too! This works out for both of us, don't you think?"

"Do you understand?"

I didn't respond, heavily breathing as I glared at him through the mirror, my hands clenched into fists.

He pressed moved the blade upwards to my jaw, his smirk disappearing into a hard glower. "Answer me, pet."

"I understand," I forced myself to reply, at a complete and utter loss.

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~ Author's Note ~

So the lies mentioned in the story's description is starting to appear. . .

Some of Maria's past has been unlocked in quite an unpleasant way.
We've learnt some more about her past experiences in relationships, her past struggles and her unexpected secret that seems to be quite a big one.

How will she cope with a stalker and a blackmailer on her case?

Any opinions on Jorge?

Any opinions on Maria's secret?

Thoughts on this chapter?

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Thanks for reading!

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