Sing Song, Soft Lullaby

That girl was so ugly. Just by looking at her you could tell she was, on the inside and out. Well, maybe she wasn't ugly looking now, but only the pile of make-up made it that way. She looked so lost, touching her face, her neck, a scar that stretched upon where a broken rib had been. She looked so lost, so alone, yet all the while her green piercing eyes were staring at me, judging me...

“Lenya.” A cool voice said from the doorway, making me jump and look form the mirror back to my friend, Jesten. Giving her a quick glance i rolled my eyes, going back to staring blankly at the mirror. I knew what she was going to say, for she had said it every night for a year now.
“You don't have to go, you don't have to do this to yourself.”The routine started once again.
“Yes i do, Jesten, this is what I'm meant to do.”
“No, its not! You choose what you want to do, no one told you this is what you were meant to do!”
“I told myself.”
“You're wrong! you're only hurting yourself.”
I closed my eyes and held my breath to keep my ever calm voice. Never once since my 'accident' had I ever raised my voice.
“That's why I do this, I do it for the pain.”

The conversation ended. With my last statement the room had gone cold as it sank in. Looking back into the mirror I brushed out the rest of my light brown hair, watching as Jesten turned around and walked out with slouched shoulders.

Sighing I closed my eyes and thought about how I always seemed to hurt her. You could tell that my ever calm composure effected her the most. Ever since the day that I had left my husband I had never broken down. Never had I cried, and for some reason that seemed to bother her.
Like she wanted me to hurt on the inside or something. I didn't hurt and I wasn't going to. So why was I suppose to cry? Shrugging my shoulders I applied a thick line of purple gloss to my lips, and turned around to find my outfit.

Walking out of my door i could hear it. The sound of the TV in the background, but you could feel the cold tension seeping from the room none the less. Like the sound was a cover-up for the noise of her mind whirling in many different(and none good) directions. I couldn't leave her like that tonight.
Not tonight.
Walking into the room I heard a quick intake of breath. It was like I was walking into a smoke filled room of enemies. No one able to see each other, but knowing the presence of something they don't like there. She wasn't happy with me and I couldn't blame her. But i wouldn't blame myself either. Slow steady steps, calm breath, unsteady hands wrapping around her ridged shoulders. Whispers of sorries and reassurances in her ears. Slowly the tension in the room started to fade, settled in by gloom and sadness. No amount of words would change that. But at least I had tried. Kissing her softly on her right cheek I made sure to hide all of the knives and sharp edged things before grabbing my coat and throwing it over my exposed skin.

The night sky was filled with chilling air, different feeling from the cold of the house. Where that was stifled with anger and cold resentment of another's, the night air was crisp and sharp, cold and alone. Just how I adored it. Taking a deep breath I tried to ignore the horrible feeling of leaving my poor savior alone. Shaking away my doubts and feelings, i went back to my numb state.
She'd survive another night without me.
~~~~~~*~~~~~~~

As I came up to the building I saw the line of people waiting to be let in. My watchers. The people who, without knowing it, were the reason I was still alive and living. Keeping me from being the drone of a woman I felt like all the time at home. Living with her was like having to remember everything I had lived with. I didn’t want that. I wanted nothing to remind me of the life I had once belong to, seemed to still belong to. Everyone thought I was free. But I never was….I never would be.

Just standing there I watched the people I had seen a million times inside the building. As I watched I saw the people they really were, how they acted, who they knew. And thinking how different they were once they got inside. All their voices combined together to make one single voice. One person. Looking away from the crowd that was at the doors I turned and walked down the alley to where the people for the backstage enter. Taking on the role of the people out front, I put on a smile. And became, once again, a different person.

The noise of the place reverberated throughout the whole dressing rooms as I walked in, all smiles and bouncy hair, nothing out of the ordinary about me. Even my scars. With every single one of my scars there seemed to be a girl who had one of the same kind. Every smile was as fake as mine. Everything was the same to us, as if we were all looking at each other through a mirror.

“Hey Lenya,” one of the largest yet most beautiful woman I had ever seen said, walking out from behind the curtain that connected to the front of the club.
“yeah?” I said not really understand what she wanted, I had only been here a few months, and yet it seemed to be my name she was always calling.
“You’re up in five.” And that was all she said. Walking over to my station I sat down and watched all the girls around me getting ready. This was my real home. Turning around, a great sigh released from my lips. I stared straight in front of me. Looking in the mirror I once again stared at the stranger in front of me. She looked so calm, so collected. She looked happy and strong and pretty. I felt like smashing her face in. Anger bubbled up inside me and for a second she tensed, as if ready for my blow. Everything in me seemed to calm, and I saw the lucky woman’s shoulder sag, as if in defeat. Just one blow and she would be shattered…..

An arm wrapped around me, bringing me out of my starring competition, bringing me back into my calm self. Through the mirror I stared at the girl wrapped around my shoulders. Light blonde hair accented dark gray eyes as she smiled her money earning smile. Already clad in her dark green mermaid outfit she grabbed my purple belly dancer garments off the rack and handed it to me.

“A little out of sorts today are we?” she said with her usual British accent. I couldn’t help but smile at her, grabbing the outfit I threw on the pieces with her help , and smiled as she quickly pinned my hair up loosely. Putting on the rest of my purple make-up I finished just as the woman walked back into the room, beckoning me to the stage. I could still hear the music of the dance before mine, the fast beat of the pole dance, the sound of long notes as she's entwine her body around the cold metal. Then the slow antagonizing bass jazz as she crawled along the stage, moving her jazz skirt to show leg, to tip her hat. To gain her hard earned reward.

She was suppose to be the top dog, had the most money by the early hours, and she hated my guts. I now earned the most whistles the most watchers, the most money. I now held her title just above her head. I was the main showcase of the Le Vie Dance Club. And the best part was, i didn't even try. I didn't take it away on purpose. Watching her as she wiggled around on stage now, i saw the only thing she wanted for it was what was going into the hat. She didn't look like she was having fun, that she liked the movements her body was making. Like This was where she acted. She got where she was because she was good at what she does.

Moving past me with a glare that could shatter glass i heard my song play in the background. Situations by LostProphets, with its sexually wanting words and fast moving, suggestive tone. Like my dancing. If you watched me move from the doorway with my strong steps, to my glowing glitter pole; to the bright, free smile i showed as i rubbed up and down the pole with fancy turns and curves; you could see why I was better then she would ever be. As i twirled and spun and belly danced from one end of the stage to the other it was obvious how i earned my right in only a short time. I lived through my dancing,brightening with every gaze shifting my way with wanting eyes. The money that seemed to accumulate on the stage and in my hands as the many veils that hid me were shed from my body. Like all of my masks, were shed at the same time. When i was at my high was when the only thing i had was the rope of bells that encircled my body and the glitter. The knowledge that i was able to please for another night. That was something she would never be able to pretend. To act on stage. Because unlike me, her need to dance was not to live, but to strive. And you can only get so far with that.

But then its over and I have nothing left but my money and my many masks to once again collect. To change back to the me outside the cage that makes me free. To once again not speak at all and smile with eyes that hold nothing. Once again time to go watch the other dancers and drink to a fuzz with British Vicky, with her soft smiles and knowing eyes. Till i ended up at home with the next guy i bumped into. To a home where the lights are never on and the second floor, sound proof to where i lay now, consists of the only person i really care about. Hopefully asleep by the hand of her lovely pills. To not remember the morning or who the man who left early before light was.

As i laid with my arms wrapped around my blankets tight,l feeling alienated in my own bed, i felt sadness and pain overwhelm me. And suddenly I realized what it was Jesten meant when she said i was hurting myself. That it had nothing to do with my dancing, but the aftermath.

Living and dying every night.

And that's the way I wanted to keep it.