{Aaron} I was never here, just a faint reflection.

[francois simeon del roque.]

So this is what it had come down to. Dancing until he finally did, in fact break. It wasn’t a shock to the small French boy that his family had sent down a trainer, directly from France, to the small Belmont Academy to work with him. He imagined it was his Grandmother. She had recently popped back into the boy’s life and with nothing too positive at all. Then again, it was probably his dad; he would want Francois to hurt. He would want to see Francois squirm in turmoil and pain. It was what made him happy, and it repulsed Franny to no end. How could someone be like that? How could someone be so cruel, as to watch their own son go through hell and back, and not care? He never thought it was possible. He always heard of those odd, out of the bunch horror stories, but never did he think they were real. Never would he have imagined that something- someone like that could exist and physically be on this earth. It was hard to believe a person so kind and caring, such as Francois mother, could have married such a cruel hearted and pitiful man. They were such complete and utter polar opposites; how it worked? Francois will never know. But what he does know, is that his father was still managing to hurt him, even know, as he trained and danced with his teacher.

“Not, good, ENOUGH!”

[/color] The voice boomed from a sudden out cove in the stage, even the boy himself was unaware of. He heard large footsteps echoing through the weak floorboards of the stage, and his body tensed and kept in its position as he walked. Francois’ right foot was behind his back, up behind his head and his two hands were grasping it hard. This precise pose right here was called a scorpion. It took Francois months; years to perfect it and be able to do it on command. It started off as just a fleeting idea of such, but then it became a dream. He made the dream a reality. He never once told his teacher. He wanted to surprise him. To shock him. To show he was not just some stupid little French boy. That he was something more. That he was an actual, living, breathing person. It was something he aimed for all his life. After being dehumanized so many times over so many years by the person who is supposed to protect you; it made a huge impact on the boy. He was always being told he was not good enough. That nothing he did was ever up to standard; so this was no shock to him. The shock was when there was sudden pain. Such a sharp, piercing, vile pain; it was hard to not cry out. The man had a powerful hand on Francois leg above his hand, and one on his stable leg to ensure he could not move. Harshly, he pushed the leg in the air forward, and Francois felt something tear and burst. His eyes widened and his mouth hung open, but there was no sound. Suddenly, he felt hot breath on his ear that sent such an eerie, bone shivering chill down his spin.

“That, is a scorpion. Ingrate.[/color] Francois couldn’t help it. He let his eyes stroll over to look at the man, and once more his breath hitched in his through. His trainer’s eyes were intense and smoldering with such…such hate; it was unbearable. What had Francois ever done to him? What could he have done so bad to be hated so much? He remembered when he had showed this man, the same man giving off so much hatred for him, the first scorpion he could ever do. He clapped. He clapped and whistled and applauded for the boy. He was happy. He was smiling. But now it was gone. Now it was all one big fading memory that singed the inside of the boy’s mind. His eyes began to sting from being held open so long, and instinctively he looked away and shut them. Suddenly there was no more hand on his leg, and it flew to the ground, his muscles screaming in pain. But it didn’t remove itself from his body for long. Suddenly it was at his waist, and then he was being pushed forward. He stumbled and nearly fell, but quickly regained himself.

“Pirouette. Now.”[/color] Francois did as he was told out of habit; out of survival. He pushed onto his right toe, to the utmost point where he felt blood seeping out slowly and staining the inside of the shoe; and then he was spinning. His leg was howling at him in protest, but he didn’t stop; he couldn’t stop. Fear drove him and adrenaline kept him moving. He couldn’t remember how long he had been spinning. The room was blurring. His body was failing. It seemed like every minute was an hour, and it was like he was on his death bed. The anguish was seeping through him, and at any moment, he knew he would crash, he knew it would all be over, and then, then when it was right about to happen-

There was a loud echo through the auditorium. Francois was frozen, glued to the ground he stood on. His cheek was deep red and the side of his lip was bleeding. An imprint of a large, animal-like hand was left on his pale cheek; but the inflictor was nowhere in sight. That’s when it all came crumpling down. Vision was gone as knees collided with wood. Feeling was numb as palms rubbed against the cold chill of the floor.

Francois was no more, as piping red skin collided smack against a scarlet stained stage.


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this post was made for anyone and it's a lovely 966 words long. Francois is wearing sweatpants dance shoes and a T-Shirt and the lyrics are from when it rains by paramore and the template's by emma from ach.

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