her, which is another reason I haven’t let her out. Who knows what she’ll do surrounded by this many shifters?
I look around the dark space, heading over to the row of cafeteria tables. Some of them have been moved, so I pull them over, their metal legs screeching loudly in the empty room. Once I have them all lined up, I toss my jacket behind me on the floor and kick off my shoes.
Relishing in the silent dark cocooning me, I close my eyes.
I breathe. In and out. Out and in. Until all that exists is the dark quiet and me and my heartbeat.
Th-thump, th-thump, th-thump.
By the time I open my eyes again, my headspace is relaxed and centered.
Hands up in the air, I bend and do a flip, landing perfectly on my feet. I complete a series of spins and jumps, stretching my muscles and letting my body sing.
As much as I hate Kaazu, I’ve never resented learning what I know. The dancing, the gymnastics, the acrobatics, and all the styles of fighting...it’s made me what I am today. It’s given me an outlet. A way to scream silently. A way to show my rage and my hope and every other emotion that I’ve hidden beneath a mile of indifference.
Without thinking, I go through one of the troupe’s popular routines called, Clash of Cravings. It’s one of my favorite routines. Kaazu usually liked to play it for vampires, but it really worked for any crowd. It makes everyone think of the things they crave most. Whether it’s sex or blood or fighting or love or even hate.
But for me, this performance isn’t about all of those things clashing together. Instead, it was always about what I craved most—freedom—and what I had to endure to try to attain it.
Starting off slow, I do some simple ballet moves, dancing to music that only exists in the memories of my ears. It flows over me like a breeze, fluidity coursing over my skin.
The cafeteria is suddenly a stage, and I’m performing for one person only.
I look out at Cliff, his shadowed silhouette all I can see with the moonlit performance lights shining on my body. Every turn, every move of my feet or bend of my waist, is like a dedication to him.
As the music slowly picks up in tempo, the performance morphs from simple, elegant dance moves to a quicker cadence of desperation. With my muscles memory-honed from years and years of performing, I jump up onto the cafeteria tables and do a series of flips, one after the other.
With the line I made using six tables in a row, I have plenty of space. I add in my own turns, back handsprings, aerial cartwheels, and leaps. Every landing has the tables shaking slightly or a screech rending in the air, but I’m in the zone. Completely lost inside of the stimulation of every melodious movement, and my mind goes quiet.
Every worry and thought is gone. I’m not Jetta. I’m no one. I’m without memory or past. All that exists is the air around me that I move through like drops falling from a cloud and air blowing in a breeze.
The music in my head grows louder and louder, and my performance morphs once again. Not just a dance. Not just gymnastics. Now, it’s the lead-in to the fight.
With a backward flip, I spin three times in the air before landing on the floor once more, and then I’m fighting against an invisible opponent. Usually, this would be done with at least two of my other troupers, but right now, I’m fighting shadows. Fears. Hates. Worries.
I see their forms as if they’re right here in front of me, nothing but smoky shade that moves around me in tandem. I kick and punch and swipe and hit, all while keeping to the rhythm of the silent music.
I have no idea how long I perform.
Seconds bleed into minutes, and minutes climb on top of one another, until they’re a pyramid growing wider and larger and higher.
I punch the shadows that plague me. I fight the ghosts that haunt. I recede away from the violence that wants to threaten me, and then I sneak up on my enemies and take them down.
By the time I finally stop, my chest is rising and falling swiftly and there’s a sheen of perspiration on my skin. My muscles are twinging with the delicious feeling of my strength and skills expended. I feel good. I feel like I