"Can you dance?" The boy asked.

"Yes." The girl replied.

"Can you show me?" 

"No."

♦♦♦

The girl's neck. There was a butterfly.

How lovely.

A tattoo. 

The butterfly was black. 

♦♦♦

The girl's feet.

Revolting.

Disgusting.

She puts ballet slippers on.

How lovely.

She can dance.

He watched.

♦♦♦

She falls.

She aches with pain whilst taking those old ballet slippers off.

Her feet.

Blood.

Bruises.

Toe nails chipping.

Ugly.

She stands up.

She jumps.

The black butterfly's wings are damaged.

No one cares, because they were ugly anyway.

♦♦♦

"Why do you dance?" The boy asked.

"No reason," said the girl.

"Everything has a reason to it."

"I don't want to tell you."

"Why?"

"Wait," she muttered.

♦♦♦

She danced again.

Twirls.

Leaps.

He saw a glint of sparkle leaving the girl's eyes.

He watched.

♦♦♦

She flew. Only for a second though. 

"Why do you dance?" The boy asked again.

"I saw a butterfly once. A black one. It was pretty." 

"Do you mean a moth?"

"No, it was a butterfly."

♦♦♦

Spinning. The girl spins.

She trips.

She screams.

Let your frustration and pain pour out. 

Don't keep it inside.

♦♦♦

"Why do you dance?" The boy asked the third time.

"I dance because I want to." The girl said.

"Why?"

"When I dance, all my problems and troubles leave me," she whispered.

"I saw you cry though."

"Everyone cries. When I cried, it was not because I'm sad."

"Then are they tears of joy?"

"No, tears from walking up a stair."

"A stair?" The boy was confused.

"I got a step closer to my dreams."

♦♦♦

 She danced.

She falls again.

Yet, she continued to spread her black wings.

He smiled.

The next chapter is going to be another version of this chapter, but more detailed and (normal)?..