I could hear the echos in my head, her telling me to do it again and again until I did it correctly. I felt sore all over, my legs burned like they were on fire. The sweat rolled off my forehead onto the wooden waxed floor, I could see the footprints left from my ballet shoes. My nylons were stained with blood and torn down the sides.

 I had bandages wrapped around my hands and feet, and stitches woven through my rough hardened skin. I heard the impatient tapping of her cane on the floor. My lungs hurt, it felt as if something was blocking my throat, and I struggled to catch my breath

  I slowly put myself in fourth position, and took one last breath. She tapped the cane on the floor as a signal, and I quickly pulled myself into a pirouette, she pulled out a stopwatch that was in one of her leg warmers that she wore every practice, smelling of perfume and sweat, then clicked the small metal button on the top...10...11...12...The pain was so agonizing, 20...26…39...After what seemed like forever I finally reached the goal…90…90 seconds, but unfortunately to her 90 seconds was not enough. 

The muscles in my calves felt like they were about to explode, and the blisters on my feet started to peel inside of my bandages. I rested myself on a balancing bar, and she called for a 5 minute break as she walked off with a look of disappointment. I tried my hardest to make her proud but I guess I had tried too hard. The mist covered mirrors surrounded me..haunted me. The images of me on each mirror darkened, looking like silhouettes.