hadley cross, four {fin}

They don't know how hard it is. The delicate movements, all of it needs to be precise or it is worth nothing. You can show passion and emotion through dance. I've always talked through soft whispers so dance gives me something to talk through, like a puppet and its puppeteer. A new found voice that I never had before emerged from a little girl who was afraid of her shadow. The swift motions of legs, a small leap and a glare could tell a chapter, but I tell a story.

//

{ 13 }

"Hadley!" mother's voice startles me. I jump right out of my seat, the book in my lap falling on the floor. Oof. I pick up the book with one hand and push myself up off the ground with the other. I head toward the kitchen, where my mother usually spends her time making food or learning new recipes. She has whispered to me that her dream as a little girl was to become a chef, but instead she became a single-mother with a kid that doesn't speak to her.

That does not mean I don't love my mother, in fact I admire and love my momma. I just prefer to hide my voice rather than say hello to somebody who'll forget me. I grew up in the background and eventually I faded into it. I won't waste my voice when it won't be heard. 

I have always been the quiet girl in the back of the class, the shy one. The girl who does her work but doesn't speak while she does it. I grew up around the rowdy kids, but I have never fell into their ways. I don't catch other people's attitude, they catch mine. 

"Hadley, dear, your father would like to see you." her voice was soft, apologetic almost. My face falls. Why? Why now? Why not when I was 6?

"No. He doesn't. If he wanted to see me, he would have came right after he left." I say in a soft whisper.

My father ditched my mother and left me behind with her when I was only 6. I remember those nights when papa read me to sleep or cuddled me in his arms. He was a kind man with a soft voice, nobody knows why he left. He just did. I longed for the warm arms of my father, but as I grew up, the more I could do without. 

"Just tell him, mama, that I don't want to see him. He should have tried 7  years ago to reconnect."

She gives you a sad look, but nods. She heads out to the front door, where you assumed your father was standing. 

//

{15}

(ps: this is written in second person plural, which is different from the rest of the bio)

A swift motion of your legs, and you leap into the open air. You land gracefully, you imagine claps of an audience as you do. The rhythm of your toes, step back, step to the right, step forward, leap. Your brown hair flying with you. You twist your body during the jump, and fall on your ankle. This was only your first year dancing, you started when you were 14 and a half. You were bound to make mistakes. This was the third time you hurt your ankle, but it was only a hurdle standing in front of the finish line. You weren't about to let it stop you.

Just like your mother always told you, "If you think you can do it, than you can."

You know you'll do it.
You believe
and you can.

//

{16}

(back to first person)

I learned how to describe my emotions, a story with dance. A simple leap could go a long way. If if speak I won't get heard, but if I dance I get seen and heard. They'll finally see the girl that they have ignored their entire life. Maybe when I was little I didn't want to be heard. I've seen the bullies at my school, if I didn't say anything they wouldn't notice me. But now, their words reflect off of me like a shield. Impenetrable by their harsh words. My steel gaze filled with blue eyes can send someone running. I have a new found confidence in myself. I won't be held back by anyone anymore.

//

{the end}

(second person)

She breaks open the shell that has surrounded her for the first 16 years of her life. It was finally time for the world to know who Hadley Cross was. She has been in the background too long.

You won't be hearing her tell her story, she'll be showing you.