Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 52178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Ellie Mae, if you will.
Before you ask, no, it’s not a cruel joke.
My parents thought the name suited me, and well, here we are.
That’s the mildest part of my story, though.
Oh, hell, it doesn’t even scratch the surface.
I’m a dancer and a good one at that.
I have a fiancé, one my parents picked out just for me, and a blossoming career.
Everything was going well until I caught the eye of the wrong man.
He saw something in me, something the rest of the world was overlooking.
A talent that runs deeper than the surface.
He wants to make me a star, only his show isn’t the kind you dream of.
It’s dark, twisted and dangerous.
A world you could never begin to imagine.
Like a thief in the night, he takes me from everything I love.
He won’t let me go, not until I do the very thing he captured me for…
Dance.
Dance for a monster, live in a cage, be the perfect little puppet.
There is just one problem with that plan…
He has no idea who he is messing with.
But I can assure you, he’s about to find out.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PROLOGUE
My name is Ellie.
Ellie Mae, if you will.
Before you ask, no, it’s not a cruel joke.
My parents thought the name suited me and, well, here we are.
That’s the mildest part of my story, though.
Oh, hell, it doesn’t even scratch the surface.
I’m a dancer, and a good one at that.
I have a fiancé—one my parents picked out just for me—and a blossoming career.
Everything was going well, until I caught the eye of the wrong man.
He saw something in me ... something the rest of the world was overlooking.
A talent that runs deeper than the surface.
He wants to make me a star, only his show isn’t the kind you dream of.
It’s dark, twisted, and dangerous.
A world you could never begin to imagine.
Like a thief in the night, he takes me from everything I love.
He won’t let me go, not until I do the very thing he captured me for ...
Dance.
Dance for a monster, live in a cage, be the perfect little puppet.
There is just one problem with that plan.
He has no idea who he is messing with.
But I can assure you, he’s about to find out.
1
“Come on, Ellie, you’re not pushing hard enough.”
With gritted teeth, I push up on my toes and spin, trying to do a ridiculous combination of ballet and jazz that my dance teacher is trying to throw into my performance. A performance that could change my life. It could get me into the school of my dreams where I could go on to make it big.
The problem is, he’s pushing me to dance in a way that doesn’t feel right to me.
Having studied many forms of dance, I have put my own twist on things, but that twist is never something he’s willing to allow me to use. He wants me to follow the rules, the structure, to deliver the performance most likely to get me in, but it shows nothing of who I am. Not a single ounce of my raging soul, the one that I keep hidden behind the pretty eyes and girlish smile.
I’m a dolly, and, believe me, those aren’t my words.
That’s what everyone calls me.
I’m petite, slender, and with my white blond hair and eyes that are such a light blue they almost look fake, I tend to look as though I belong on a shelf. I have the perfect frame for dance; I’m small and I’m light, I can twist and turn, throwing my body into positions a lot of other dancers can’t. I put on my first pair of ballet shoes when I was two, and I have never looked back.
My parents are rich, well known, and live an upper-class life. They were never going to let me be anything less than extraordinary. They pushed me, even when I didn’t want to be pushed. They drove me to rebel when I turned fourteen, and I very nearly gave it all up, but I pushed on, mostly because somewhere deep within me, dancing is part of who I am.
It's the disappointment I will bring if I don’t go to the elite school they want that will crush my spirit.
I know, somewhere within the depths of my soul, that if I wasn’t a dancer, they wouldn’t be proud of me at all.
I’m not like my brother, a natural born talent, a football superstar. He can do no wrong in their eyes.
He moved away years ago to college and all they do is tell me how incredible he is. I don’t really speak to him, because even he thinks he’s better than me.
Nobody in this family ever just lets me be me.
It’s exhausting.
“Ellie!”
Spinning toward my coach, Roger, I scowl as I lose my balance. Letting out a frustrated sigh, I flop down to the ground, my small legs stretching out in front of me, sweat trickling down my brow. Roger exhales, walking over and staring down at me with that fatherly concern in his eyes. He’s good to me, and if it wasn’t for him, I probably wouldn’t be where I am today, but he’s so old school, and I am having a hard time breaking him.
“Why can’t you just let me add some of my own things in, Rog?” I ask, tilting my head back to look up at him.
“Because those schools don’t like rebellion, Ellie, they like people who are willing to do exactly what they teach and do it well. You have that skill, you’re better than any other dancer I’ve ever taught, but you’re stubborn. You need to let go of your childish fantasies of getting on the stage and blowing everyone away with your unique moves. That isn’t how this works.”
Well, talk about a lecture.
“I don’t understand how adding passion and spirit into my routine is rebellion,” I mutter.
“It’s rebellion because it goes against everything they’ve ever learned. Dance is an art, it isn’t a joke.”