The music is silky and soft, like summer air. My toes ache, but stay upright and strong on the smooth wooden floor. I hold my pose, balancing on the pale pink points of my ballet shoes. My stomach churns with guilt. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn't do this. But, sometimes, rules are made to be broken, right?

The music breaks, a quicker pace that sets me spinning, faster and faster. I see the wooden bar, the white high up windows, the clean cream walls and the mesh of my pink tutu. Most of all though, the harsh and concentrated stares of the selectors, seated in a row before a snow white table.

My head moves alongside my body, in an aching churning sort of way, like a boat in a storm. The scent of sweat curls under my nose. The only other times rules seemed less important than money, family and home, was when Anya left. Her tear stained face, green glazed eyes like mine, white silky layers falling slowly and elegantly down from a soft white dress. She didn’t want to get married. Not even for the money. She loved me. She didn’t want to leave me. She didn’t want to leave her younger sister alone.I was alone.

The music is speeding up. I jump. I spin. I dance. Round and round the spacious ballet studio. My stomach churns. Sweat drips from my flushed face and on to the squeaky floor. Small ringlets of my brown hair curls down from my bun. My ashen hands are slightly shaking. I can’t do this. I can’t. It doesn’t matter that this is the opportunity that could change my life. I can’t do it.

My eyes catch a blurred image of Margaux. Her fiery red hair curling down from a high round bun. Soft blue silk twirls effortlessly down, attached to thin blue straps, holding the soft dress up, matching the blue of her smooth ballet flats.

She believes in me. But what happens when you don’t believe in yourself. You crack. That’s what my mum said would happen. She said I never would make it. She was right. For once she was right. I was going to crack.

On that final ringing note of the dance, I drop. Falling. Down, down, down. Dark bends in on my vision. I fall onto the hard wooden floor.

My eyes open. My stomach aches. My head throbs. Where am I? How did I get here?

Everything is white. The walls, the floor, the doors and even the sheets that cover my shaking body, are a crisp starched white. Blinding light charges in through a wide window. Cold curling gusts of icy wind blow in, making the white see-through curtains dance crazily. Attached to my wrist, a white laminated bracelet with my name and a number. Number 2916578. Voices escape from the hallways, entering my bleached room.

I see a figure. Who is it? I think it’s Margaux, her stiff but tall posture, small curls cascading from her high bun. Of course it’s Margaux. But, who else knows of my presence? Mum? Anya? Of course not. My mum wouldn’t care and Anya... Well. How would she know. I haven’t seen her for years now. She’d be 19. I wonder how she is...

I blink again, fighting against my treacherous thoughts. Margaux is looking at me. She looks me in the eye, stern and strong.
“Do you know why you're here, Kimberley? Do you know what happened to you?”
My mind feels as if its a spinning top. Spinning back, back, back in time. The ballet trial. Oh god. I knew I couldn’t do it.
“You do know why you collapsed don’t you?’ Margaux’s brows knits together in confusion.

My mind stays as blank as a white piece of paper. No inspiration or ink to make the paper full and complete. The opposite of the incomplete feeling I have. But maybe Margaux was the answer. The person who could give me the key to the door that was holding me back from the truth. Filling in the gaps that makes me feel incomplete. I shrug.

“You didn’t eat enough. You DON’T eat enough! I should've realised. You’re like skin and BONE!! You're a starved ghost! The only thing that keeps you going is your hopes and dreams. I’m your ballet teacher, and I am here to try help you complete those goals if they relate to ballet, which in your case they do. But, I am also their to make sure you do your best. And in your case? You CAN'T!! Why? Because you are STARVING!!!”
I flinch, my facing turning forlorn.

Margaux sighs. “Well” Her voice is now cheery.“They said you were good. Before you collapsed. They gave you the scholarship.” Margaux blinks at me. “Under one condition. They refuse to take you on until you are in a speakable condition.”

My mind doesn’t flinch by her words. Instead the words seem to scream at her. “I will. I will,I will, I will.”
Tears stream down my face like an unstoppable waterfall. I could. I really really could. I feel like superwoman. Unstoppable. Obstacles weren’t a problem. I mean, when you’re on the road to success, failure was only a detour. I had heard the saying before but only now I realised what it meant. I FELT what it meant. I felt amazing. I felt like I was the winner of the world. Correction. I was!!