'No limits, no ceiling, no crown

No pressure gonna hold me down

No stopping 'til I break every rule

And no limits to what I can do'

Orgasms were a powerful thing.

I finally understood why some women were so effective, bursting with energy, and juggling with so many things, and it looked like they never stopped.

I felt unstoppable after the last night.

"You're late again, Dodo."

Not even the high-pitched voice dripping fakeness and announcing nothing good could slow down my gait as a trail of stardust was still running through my veins, and a smirk was also stretching my lips with a mischievous edge that may have been inspired by someone else.

"Sorry, but I have a good reason. I was with the coach."

I could feel a tiny spark of the power from an orgasm as I watched Diane's content smile fall slowly until it crashed into a horrified 'O' when I heard the unmistakable drawling steps behind me.

She was lucky I hadn't interrupted when she was doing a stunt, especially because it froze the whole team. Everyone was looking with wide eyes in my direction. Okay, they were mainly staring at the imposing figure behind me.

But I still caught their attention as I spoke again, "I've thought a lot about those rules you've talked about last week, and I decided that I should study them more carefully."

I dropped the heavy binder on the bench, right over the white jacket of the captain, and I took my sweet time to open the page I'd marked to build the suspense.

"Can we cut to the chase and do this vote? There's the football team waiting for me." The coach just stole my moment and the priceless drop of Diane's pompoms, along with the blood out of her face.

But I wouldn't take up more of his patience. I had already annoyed and begged him enough with my arguments to make him dig up this binder, and I'd needed even more arguments to make him come here.

I feared he'd been so lenient because he liked Spencer, who was his best player, though I wouldn't let this idea reach my high and unstoppable brain.

"Yes, of course." I offered a polite smile to the man in a football tee-shirt way too small for his figure, while he took a seat in the first row of the bleachers, grumbling something under his breath, and I turned back to the cheer team that was still paralyzed in the same position.

"So indeed, a captain can be voted out if he or she misses a major practice." My smile still wasn't coming down. "But 90% of the team has to vote it, and if I recall." I paused for some dramatic effect, though not too long as I gave a sideways glance to the bleachers. "Gary and Jo were on a school trip, and Rachel and I weren't there. So it wasn't 90% of the team."

I didn't need dramatic drum thumps, the gasps that followed – mostly from Diane's friends, who pulled away from her as if not wanting to be splashed by her reputation stain – were enough.

I had never seen Diane so pale, not even in front of Blade's knife, and she looked one second away from collapsing on the floor.

Therefore I didn't keep my torturous suspense more, also because I could feel the coach's impatient gaze on my back.

"Don't worry, you can keep your place as the captain. I'm not interested anymore." I shrugged, watching the relief and confusion wash over her features with the breath she took in, and just then, I added, "But I've also found another interesting rule."

Her movements froze again with my plot twist.

Was I a powerful woman, or was I becoming evil? The thrill in my veins might have been blurring my mind, yet I didn't stop.

"For the final show of the year, the whole team can vote for a choreography. So I'm suggesting the 20E with two spinning scales for the end."

"We don't have enough time for a new choreography, and you're the only one who can do that... stunt."

How could Diane sound so denigrating after all of this, and while talking about something she wasn't able to do? This must have been the twitch of her lips, yet mine hadn't come down from their smile, and the spark of power in my guts kept growing, not even dimed by her icy glare.

"Rachel has started to train for the 'stunt', and I think it's the whole team who has to decide if they think they can do it or not." I turned to everyone, letting my gaze trail around to try to decipher the wide eyes, but except for the ones shooting daggers and the impatient ones behind me, I wasn't sure of the others.

"Um, so that's why the coach has been nice enough to come here, to make sure the vote is fair, and you all choose freely, and we shouldn't make him wait more."

"Of course, let's start the vote! What the team wants is what I want!" Diane clapped her hands, and it was my turn to gape at her.

She really stopped at nothing, and I was tempted to tell her some home truths and bring her almost as down as she had dragged me. Yet I didn't.

If there was one thing the coach was less interested in than cheerleading, it was drama, and I could already hear him mumble about the lack of resources of this school, which had made him assume the cheerleading coaching. Thus, I didn't try my luck too much, and I just tightened my fists.

"If you want my choreography, which we know perfectly and with which we've made a splendid performance last Friday, raise your hand."

I didn't dare to lift my gaze from my twisting fingers. Like for a fall, it was better to not see, especially when I'd already crashed so much. From how high I was, I wasn't ready to find out who was supporting me, and who was against me.

"Six."

My head snapped up, and I blinked my eyes at Diane's lifted hand, along with five others. The only explanation, as I seemed to climb higher with this hallucination, was that Blade must have drugged me yesterday.

"And those who want Dorothy's choreography..."

No, I was fully in reality with the disdainful tone of Diane's voice, and the hands up appeared more real than ever, rising quickly one after the other, even from one of Diane's friends, who though put it down faster under Diane's glare.

"19. Beaten hands down. Now, if you don't need me anymore, I'll go back to the football."

This time, I was the only one paralyzed, staring after the coach's imposing figure growing smaller in the distance, while everyone was bustling around.

"Let's go! We don't have a lot of time left until the end of the school year!"

"Oh, by the way, speaking of the end of the year, I'm organizing a pajama party next week, since we have a day off. We could talk cheerleading and all."

I was brought out of my daze as a card was pushed into my hand, and my large eyes landed on the pink letters and glittery pompoms drawing.

I didn't get to thank the girl in front of me though, as Diane was already shouting, "Can you hurry?!"

I hadn't managed to put off that glint in her eyes, and she was still abusing of her captain role. Yet the important was that we would do an unforgettable show, and I could also catch Rachel's, Gary's, and all the others' excited grins as we started rehearsing.

I let my own smile stretch fully as I took in those surroundings: the empty bleachers, the fresh green lawn, the white gravel, and even the sun was there, shining brightly to highlight our choreography. 

For the first time in ten days, I really enjoyed the practice. My movements weren't to get rid of a too-much or just following like an automaton Diane's orders. They were guided and fueled by the spark in my veins, and not even when the football team appeared on the other side of the stadium did it falter.

I did the spinning scale better than the other day, and I was unstoppable.

After two hours of practice, it was still more than true. Not even the overheated bus ride and my sore muscles could make my steps waver as I walked down the familiar street.

When I spotted the even more familiar vehicle, I was almost running, and it was surely the reason why I didn't give a second glance at the other car parked there.

It was time to accomplish something else, and I pushed the door open without hesitation or a breath, as something else was filling my chest.

"Dad?! Are you home?!" I scanned the living room, meeting the angel figurine's eyes as my hands were already fumbling into my large bag, searching for my precious piece of paper.

Like a powerful woman, I had re-written my own list of arguments last night, when the outer space sensations had still been fresh and I'd been unable to close my eyes.

It may have only been scribbled words on a crinkled sheet, yet they had worked this afternoon, and I was determined to succeed again as I headed for my dad's study.

"Dorothy, no need to be so loud!"

The patio, the voice was coming from the half-open back door, and I rushed to it.

"We're here. Come and greet our guests!"

My still dazed brain didn't get to process his words that all eyes already turned to me, and even then, the rush that froze all my movements didn't seem to come from my head.

"Oh, the famous lost birthday girl!"

I wasn't sure if it was because of the loud voice pronouncing those words along with the laugh following, or just because I'd been floating too high since last night, yet the memories from that day hit me harder, and I could feel everything inside crashing down as I tried to swallow.

I was stunned, and moving was becoming hard with all the weights coming back, but I still pulled myself to walk the few feet separating me from the three men under my dad's expectant and obvious gaze.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Thornton." My hand came out of my bag, giving up my list's search for the moment, as anyway, the spark in my veins had disappeared, and if there had been just a hint remaining, it was put out when I shook the large and rough hand.

Although Mr. Thornton was wearing a nice and welcoming smile, it was like all the power I could have felt was sucked by his own powerful aura, and I didn't try to understand why as I quickly pulled my hand away.

It wasn't better when I turned to his copy in younger, though.

"Hello, um, Mr. Thornton."

"Oh, call me Douglas!"

Actually, Douglas resembled more an imitation of his father with the same expensive suit and lifted chin, yet it must have been the wrinkles or the experience that made Mr. Thornton senior's smile more convincing because Douglas's expression let through something between fake and twisted. Just like his look, I couldn't place it, but I didn't like it, and when he kissed my hand, there was nothing nice or welcoming in the cold shiver that ran along my skin.

Contrary to the tingling that had made me walk confidently, ready to face the obstacles, these chills were paralyzing me and sending a rush to run away in my veins at the same time.

The sun was warmer and warmer today, and here, in the shade, it was the perfect place to have a snack after a long day. I had even planned to celebrate here with some sweets. Yet now, all I wanted to do was to go back inside, and if I didn't, it wasn't because of the few crackers and the last piece of pie remaining in the center of the glass table.

My dad was still watching me, and as the brighter glint in his eyes meant he was in a good mood, I couldn't mess it. 

Despite the unease and shivers, I still had that spark inside my chest. Maybe it wasn't shining currently, but like the stars in the sky, it was always there, even when we couldn't see them, and I couldn't give it up. It was my future and my dreams. I could endure some exchange of courtesies.

"Soon the end of school, you must be happy!" I jerked my head towards Mr. Thornton, taking the opportunity to withdraw my hand from his son's lips, and I wondered for a second if he could read my mind.

"Yes, I am," I replied politely anyway.

"Getting rid of all those lessons, I remember I always loved the Summer!"

"Oh, but I love the lessons." My small voice interrupted him before his raucous laugh could echo, and he looked at me under two raised eyebrows like an alien.

It wasn't new; I tended to provoke this kind of reaction these days. I was a circus attraction, after all.

"Yes, this young lady loves studying. She'll continue next year." My dad put an arm around my shoulder, and I smiled sideways at him as his warmth was reaching me and the little spark of dream springing inside. 

"And I'm not bragging, but knowing how serious she is, she'll be an excellent secretary or teacher."

The warmth was in fact a thick blanket putting out any spark, a shovel blow burying my dreams again.

No matter how many times I tried to rise, I always ended up lower.

"I–"

"Oh really?! Then if she goes for secretarial and needs an internship, we'll gladly take on her at the town hall! That's the least I can do, and knowing her dad, I have no doubt she'll be an excellent staff!"

"You won't be disappointed."

I closed my mouth before my jaw could hit the ground, as it was clear that my opinion wasn't needed. Though I didn't manage to do the same with my large eyes as I stared at the three men deciding my future, well, two because Douglas was just observing me with that same dark look, and I didn't know which one was the worst. Sinking me down or freezing me, the result was the same: I wasn't moving.

How had I gone from that invincible impetus to this? It seemed it wasn't only my list of arguments I had lost. 

Could it depend on people, some making you fly high and others bringing you below the ground? Or had this sensation only been a fleeting illusion? I concluded it was the latter when my wide gaze landed on the oak tree a little farther.

It was under its tall presence that the first daydreams had arisen, and now, although its shadows were reaching us, the sparks all appeared so far.

I couldn't look at it. I couldn't cross those men's gazes, not even my dad's hazel eyes. So I fixed the flower pots around the patio, the trimmed bushes and delicate colors that were now showing under daylight. I tried to regulate my breathing, searching for their spring scent, yet my lungs were stiff.

"Dorothy." The warning tone in my dad's voice pulled me back, and I realized they'd gone back to control something else than my life, as Mr. Thornton had one of my dad's blue folders in his hands.

Blue meant it was one of his 'plans of attack', and contrary to mine, they never failed.

"Can you bring us some more snacks? We still have a lot to discuss."

I still wasn't moving, and this time, my dad must have noticed my frozen expression because he lightly tilted his head. "Your mom has left some brawn in the fridge. You just have to slice it, and bring us more crackers."

"Um, yes, sure." I was tense until my jaw, but I still plastered a smile, at least, taking the opportunity to flee.

As soon as I was inside, I threw my bag somewhere on the floor, narrowing my eyes at the angel's judging stare before resigning myself with a heavy sigh and heading to the kitchen.

I was surprised by how smooth my movements were when seconds ago I'd been paralyzed. Yet I didn't allow myself to think too much because it wouldn't have been a good idea to add tears to the brawn or screams when I'd already been 'so loud'.

So I acted like an automaton, and luckily, everything was almost ready. I just had to grab a knife and slice the jellied loaf.

However, adding blood to the meal wouldn't have been well-regarded either, and it almost happened when the kitchen swing door opened, and I jumped, almost cutting my pinkie in the process.

"The bathroom is at the end of the hallway, to the left." I pointed with my large knife – yes, it was strange for slicing brawn to use a big butcher's knife, but it was one of my mom's habits, which I didn't try to question.

"I'm not looking for the bathroom." The words and the shrug appeared perfectly casual, yet they made the temperature drop of 50 degrees with the shivers down my spine, and I was still crippled with my knife lifted in the air as Douglas started walking closer, a hidden smile quickly revealing himself with his next words.

"I was thinking... when I'll take over from my dad, you'll be my secretary, how great will it be..."

Things could change until then. I swallowed the comeback as I wasn't sure they could change for the better anymore, and even less that I had the power to make them change.

I just went back to slice the loaf, as apparently, it was the only thing I could do, and even, I had trouble doing it with my shaky fingers.

I knew I was doing a mess of the dish my mom had prepared with care, yet I was unable to focus on anything else but Douglas.

He was walking around the kitchen island, which was standing between us, and all my senses were hyper-aware of his movements from his fingers tapping on their way along the soapstone counter to his slow steps, almost predatory, while I was once more like a prey, a little mouse. Though I had no idea what Douglas wanted from me through his black gaze.

I didn't even dare to look in his eyes. I was just gripping the knife tighter and tighter with each step he took as I desperately searched for the little spark I had felt less than one hour ago, or even a steady breath. 

Yet I had none of those, the crippling shivers annihilating everything in their way, and they were reaching inside my chest when his figure appeared in my peripheral vision.

"If you're as serious as your dad says, then I'll be lucky..."

My guts, the chills were running to my guts, and although my reason was telling me – in a familiar voice, which was also scolding me for wrecking the brawn – that it was irrational, since I'd been much closer to other men recently and that it was just an exchange of courtesies, I couldn't shake those shivers away. When I lifted my gaze, they were shaking me.

That same unreadable look was there in his dark eyes, and from so close, it froze even my heart.

"What do you think?"

He didn't want to know what I was thinking, or maybe he could already see it as he was leaning closer, diving that unsettling gaze in mine and reaching his hand to brush a strand of hair, ironically, just above my turtleneck.

I couldn't push him away, neither with my words nor my hands, as our dads were discussing business just outside. I couldn't move back as I was stuck between the counter behind and his tall figure, and he knew it. 

If there was one thing I could decipher in his eyes, it was that glint with the power he had over me, while I was paralyzed, and something told me that he at least had one common feature with his father: he never stopped for more power.

I didn't dare to picture what it would mean in this instant, yet the image still appeared closer and closer like all his body against mine.

"Dorothy?"

The freezing flash and the impression arising with it in my guts were dispelled by the sound of my name in the familiar voice, and for a split second, I found all the warmth, flutters, and coziness I missed so much, along with a full breath of air once Douglas stepped away from me.

It only lasted for the time lapse between the tensions leaving my muscles making me release the grip of my hand and the clink of metal on the checkered tiles. Then, it all rushed back to paralyze me again.

"Spencer?!"

It had been just an automatic reaction, an instinct seeped deep inside for my frozen body that he was warm and home, just like the sensations reappearing in my fingers to reach out for his arms, yet as my mind was clearing, it stopped my heart one more time.

"Ah, Spencer Colt?! I know your father!"

If the atmosphere before was chilling, now, it was edged like a knife.

The knife! I kneeled down to pick it up from the floor, mostly because I wasn't ready to cross any of the two men's gazes.

However, the gasp I held back wasn't from noticing how close of my Mary-Jane shoes the sharp blade had landed; it was because of the tensed tone I'd never heard in Spencer's voice as he replied,

"Douglas, can I speak to Dorothy alone?"

"Sure." Douglas turned to Spencer, yet his eyes stayed glancing down at me like a mocking reminder of how small I was, and I could only avert my gaze to my hands, where I took in how red my knuckles were from gripping the knife.

One more shiver traveled somewhere inside, but even on the cold tiles, I was warmer, and I finally breathed when I heard the thud of the door closing.

"I didn't know you were hanging with Douglas Thornton?"

Well, breathing was a bit of an overstatement, as it ended up in a shallow shred. I had hopelessly prayed that Spencer would have walked away with Douglas, but of course, no, he wanted to 'talk' to me, and I didn't have the strength to face him, when even my legs were too weak to stand.

"I'm not. It's my dad who 'hangs' with his dad for work and imposes me his presence, just like he imposes me everything because apparently, I can't make any decision myself," I muttered as I glimpsed his sneakers appearing in front of me, followed by his hand, the one with the promise ring. "It's none of your business, anyway," I added quickly.

Was he jealous? The tone of his voice didn't sound like it, as all the tensions had left with Douglas, just like the shivers in my body, and now, it was too warm and familiar.

"What are you even doing here?" I grabbed the knife and got up on my shaky legs, ignoring his held-out hand and the little voice inside – this one not resembling my mom's – reminding me he'd saved me.

"You forgot this on the coach's desk." He pulled his other hand up with a paper in it, and this time, it was harder for my trembling fists to not reach out.

"You can keep it. It's of no use."

"What?! Did you talk to your parents? The arguments you've added are really good. They–"

"I don't have a say in my future, in my life, or anything." The caring tone – true or not, I didn't try to decipher it – in his voice had brought the cracks in mine. "I'm just good at serving powerful men and hiding the mess I am."

Everything was finally hitting me, or more exactly, it was the aftershock of my crash from so high. After having been frozen by those shivers, Spencer's warmth so close was melting me, and I was overwhelmed with a rush of tears, hopelessness, and numbness. It was powerlessness, and it was spreading faster than any spark.

"No, you–"

"It's not your problem, anyway." I realized the words had also escaped too fast with this rush, and I feared the tears would follow. I didn't need his pity.

"It is... always... DD..."

"Dorothy!"

Although my dad's call was tensing all my muscles again, I took the opportunity to straighten up.

"You should leave. You have to go back to your practice, and I have to finish what I was told to do."

I nodded to his white tee-shirt and workout shorts; it was the only parts of him my gaze had the strength to lift to, and already, the thought that he'd run there from his practice just for a sheet of paper was making me weaker.

So I focused back on the meatloaf, well, the sloppy morsels that remained of it, while he took in an unsure breath, paused for a second, where I wasn't breathing either, and then, he exhaled a too-heavy sigh.

"Be careful." 

I snapped my gaze towards him upon his words. I would have expected an 'I love you', 'it wasn't what you think', or 'give me a chance', but those two words caught the rest of my breath. It wasn't about him and me, just me, and they could mean so much, like his gaze as something was shadowing it, and it wasn't only his deep frown.

The door closed with this last glance of his, and still breathless, I put the knife away, my trembling fingers complying with his demand.

Yet it didn't stop the shakes, neither regulate my breathing, and when the door reopened, I jumped so fast that even my heart seemed to have trouble following, crashing against my ribcage.

"What are you doing?" My dad's eyes widened as I was paralyzed with my empty hand in the air, though his bright eyes couldn't be as large as my green ones, which were threatening to fall in the dish, as if it wasn't already spoiled enough.

"And what did you do with the brawn?

The brawn could easily answer all my dad's questions actually, with the first regular slices I'd cut like an automaton, which then, had grown thinner and thinner, uneven and forming weird shapes until it was ground, and one or two tears may have slipped in after. It resembled a metaphor for my dreams from hope to despair, power to helplessness.

My dreams were a spoiled meatloaf.

My gaze trailed to the knife, the crackers I had perfectly arranged on a plate before, and which were the only other items on the kitchen island along with the papers Spencer had left. My chest constricted at this sight, and it wasn't better when I glanced around the room.

The kitchen was a room I'd used to love, but now, the cabinets and cupboards all around the three walls were suffocating me. It wasn't because the pastel colors had been replaced with mustard and tawny shades last year to follow the latest trend. It was something else.

Over the years, from being the place I'd sneaked in to steal sweets, it had become a cell trapping me with obligations, and all I wanted to do was escape.

"Um, I just remembered Rachel Callum is waiting for me to work on the school project for the end of the year. Can I go?"

Something was arising inside my compressed ribcage, the pressure sparking something. It wasn't a spark of power, but it was enough to pull my hands into movements and push the loaf plate into my dad's hands.

I didn't leave him time to once more crush me with a refusal, and I took his nod for a full yes as I ran out of the room, just grabbing one item on the counter.

If I couldn't be a powerful woman, then that left me only one option: I would be evil.

I rushed through the living room, making sure I was alone, and not even the angel's stare could stop me as I grabbed my bag and another item on the shelf under.

My hands were full, yet they weren't shaking, and they held a special determination when I arrived at the front door, and I lifted my left hand with the papers in it. 

Spencer could be as stubborn as I was sometimes, but he probably hadn't imagined what I did with my right hand.

At least, I was careful as I pushed the paper up against the door, and I imitated the swirls and letters of my dad's signature.

It didn't look that bad, and it was much easier than battling for power, if I didn't take into consideration the weight falling on my stomach.

I still had to learn, but if I wished to be evil, I knew where to go.

So is Dorothy powerful or evil? 😇😈🔥  And where is she heading?

Tell me all your thoughts in the comments, and vote ⭐ if you liked this chapter!

Also, tell me what you think about Spencer, Douglas, and Diane! 

I love to hear all your thoughts and suppositions, and I could talk about this story for hours! So if you wanna talk, speculate, and fangirl with me, don't be shy!! 

I love you my little powerful and evil shooting stars 😘💕🌠