Ballet Shoes

A Story by Maddy

She just needed a lifeline.

She ran crying to her room. A set of footsteps started moving down the hall. She whipped around, locking the door. Someone started banging on the door and screamed for her to open it. Hours later they gave up.

She lifted her head and whimpered. The room looked as if a tornado had come through. Everything was in tatters. It seemed ironic that her surroundings would be as damaged as she was but yet, she couldn't even feel the irony. She was too numb to feel anymore.

Sifting through the wreckage, she looked for anything that might have been salvageable. Even her clothes had been torn. There seemed to be nothing left. Falling into desperate madness, she dug through the trash with an urgency that was not there a moment before. She was frantic, looking for anything to hold onto in this miserable place.

Coming up empty handed, the crying turned into hysterics. She couldn't take this anymore. Couldn't take her mother's screams or the slamming doors. Someone shrieked elsewhere in the house. She barely even registered it. She was too caught up in her thoughts of leaving this place. She had to get out of here, in anyway possible.

She stood up and started towards the bathroom. Tripping over her own feet, she fell and cut her hands on broken glass. She didn't care. It wouldn't matter where she was headed anyway.

Just as she was about to enter the bathroom, something caught her eye. Two ballet shoes sat beneath her dresser. She madly ran towards the dresser as if someone would take them before she could reach. Picking up the shoes, she started humming a simple, sad tune. They were completely untouched. The only things in the room that hadn't been ruined in the rampage that had caused all of the destruction.

She decided in that moment that she could move on. That she would continue down this lonely road and see where she ends up. Those ballet shoes saved her life.

© 2014 Maddy

Author's Note

Do you see any message beyond the words themselves?

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Featured Review

Trauma. That is what comes to mind reading this for the first time.
Second time through: Sometimes the littlest things can give us strength.
Very nice piece of writing though the structure of your sentences seems a little repetitive, though I may only notice it because I believe myself to have that problem. Overall a very emotional piece. Well done.