Freedom of Dance

She closed her eyes, waiting for the music to start. A baggy black gown, simple in design, clung to her skinny frame. The gown touched the ground, covering her bare feet. Her dark blue, nearly black, hair cascaded freely down to her waist. Two loose strands hung in front of her ears, falling down to the middle of her forearm. She took a deep breath and then let it out. It was time.
The music started, slowly at first. She moved her feet forward and back, forward and back. As the speed of the music increased she started to twirl around and around, shaking her tambourine to the beat. The gauzy red ribbon that was wrapped loosely around her arms fluttered softly as she moved. Her many bracelets, both on her wrists and ankles, jangled together. She kicked out with her left foot and then her right, followed by a quick spin in the air. As soon as her feet hit the ground she jumped into the air for another spin. She took several steps forward and banged her hands on her legs. She then took several steps back and hit her legs again. She ran forward, jumped in the air, and spun around twice before hitting the ground again. She twirled around and around, slowly heading backwards, until she was at the back of the stage. She ran forward one last time. As the last note sounded she jumped into the air with a shout, landing on her knees.
The audience began to applaud. The sound was deafening to her canine ears, which were located in the same spot as a human’s ears. She slowly opened her eyes, breathing heavily. These dances always took a lot out of her. She waited a few more seconds before climbing to her feet. She absentmindedly tugged on the metal collar around her neck before curtsying several times. And then she dared to look up.
Her eyes narrowed into slits of hatred. The audience was smiling, laughing, applauding. They were enjoying this. Could they not see that she hated every second of it? She hated doing the shows. She hated being forced to wear the make-up. Her face was painted white. Pink blush had been applied to her cheeks. Her eyes were coated with dark purple eye shadow and bright red lipstick had been applied to her lips. They made her wear the make-up every show. They also made her wear all of the bracelets every show too. She hated it. All of it.
Her violet canine eyes easily picked out the six men that were moving through the crowd, collecting coins—coins that she would never own. The money all went to Zaroff. Zaroff then gave some of the money to his hired workers. She had not been hired. She was one of the caravan’s many animals. As far as she knew she had always been considered a beast. Nobody had ever treated her as a person. Not ever. She forced a smile on her face as she curtsied one final time. Then she turned and walked off of the stage.
A man was waiting for her—Zaroff. His brown eyes were narrowed in anger, but other than that he looked relatively calm. A dark blue cape spotted with bright yellow stars rested over the man’s dark suit. She tried to hurry past him, but he grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks. She slowly turned to face him and stared down at his polished boots. He smacked her across the face. “You’ve been a very naughty dog,” he said softly. The coldness in his voice sent shivers down her spine. “What have I told you about looking up at your betters? Next time you perform you had better behave, Siv, or else...”
Her ears lowered. A large golden hoop hung from each ear. They weren’t hers. They belonged to Zaroff. She owned nothing. The food she ate wasn’t hers. The clothes she wore weren’t hers. The jewelry she wore wasn’t hers. Her life wasn’t hers. And he had even taken away her name. But that had happened so long ago that she couldn’t recall what it had been. Siv was the name she went by now. She hated that name. Siv was a helpless sixteen-year-old. Siv was a mutant—half-human, half-wolf. Siv’s home was a small metal cage. Siv’s life was to dance for people. Siv was a nobody. And Siv could never become a somebody.
Zaroff smacked her again, sending her out of her thoughts. “Siv, they’re calling for an encore. Go.”
Without a word she turned and walked back onto the stage. This was the only thing she knew how to do. Dancing for others was her life. A small smile tugged at her lips as she listened to the cheering audience. Something inside of her, after all those years, finally snapped. This would be a show that they would never forget. The music started.
She stepped back, twirling every other step. ‘Let the fools think they’re getting another dance,’ she thought. When she reached the wall at the back of the stage she turned to face it. She saw Zaroff out of the corner of her eye and smirked. He was watching her intently, a frown on her face. This wasn’t one of the dances she had been taught. He knew she was planning something. And she knew he knew. She placed the tambourine in her mouth and began to back flip towards the audience. She reached the edge of the stage and pushed off of it as hard as she could. The crowd moved back, giving her room to land. The music slowed to a stop. She heard Zaroff running towards her and knew that he had his trank gun with him.
The tambourine fell to the ground with a soft thump. Her eyes burned with hatred as they swept the crowd of people, who were beginning to step back uncertainly. Siv growled, exposing her four canine teeth (which were next to her two front and bottom teeth).
“Stay back!” Zaroff shouted at the crowd as he aimed the gun at her. She let loose a bloodcurdling howl before turning to face him.
“Calm down,” he said as he slowly walked towards her. “All this excitement has gotten your blood pumping. You just need to rest a bit.”
She took a couple steps back, snarling.
“Calm down and come here like a good dog.”
That did it. The thing she hated the most was being called a dog. She could handle the beatings, the endless dancing exercises, the days without food and water, but she absolutely hated being called a dog. She lunged at him, claws reaching for his throat. He fired twice, each dart finding its mark on her body but that didn’t slow her down. At the last second he tried to dodge her attack, but she managed to score three long cuts on the left side of his face. He gritted his teeth and fired at her again and again. She fell to her knees, fighting to stay conscious. He walked over to her, grabbed her hair, and yanked her head back.
“You are going to regret this,” he hissed in her ear. His blood trickled down on to her face. “I’ll make sure of it.”
She snapped at him before sinking into the land of darkness.