Madame Delphine allowed an easy class the first day. We began with a warm up. Some of the other freshmen were sweating and one had to be sent out because she passed out. Madame Delphine pinched the bridge of her long, thin nose and continued the class. Next, we began a combination. Some students looked as if they were struggling. I really didn't understand, it was a simple combination. Pique into a Sauté, then step through into an Arabesque promenade on pointes. Child's play, really. Madame didn't seem impressed with really anyone. I needed to cheer her up, so I did the entire combination on pointe. Her expression was priceless. I received praise, but also a stern talking-to about changing the combination. That wasn't allowed.

I stepped out of the class, feeling refreshed. It was always nice to get on my toes. After all, I was thankful to be dancing, after all. When I was nearly sixteen, almost seventeen, I had a terrible accident. During one of Madame Delphine's dress rehearsals for a recital, I waited backstage for the second act. The skirt of my costume got stuck on a prop, so I had to carefully weasel it out. After loosening it, I pulled a little to no avail. I pulled harder and it came loose, causing my supporting leg to give out. I tripped falling into the brails and backstage management areas. My left leg caught onto something that resembled a metal zip tie. It was holding a bunch of different cords together, I remember that. The metal cut from the inside of my leg, next to my kneecap and down to just above my ankle. I screamed for help, crying and bleeding everywhere. A girl named Emmalee was the first to act and quickly calmed everyone down.

"Everyone! Quiet! I'll go get Madame Delphine and--"

Soon, the sound of rapid footsteps shook the floor. I began to go into shock, adrenaline pulsing through my veins.

"There better be a zut bien reason you all are huddled together!" Madame Delphine snapped. I began giggling, not being able to feel my leg. Madame Delphine took one look at me and all color drained from her face. She stepped back and clawed for her phone, muttering 'Боже мой' over and over.

While Madame Delphine was busy screaming and crying at the 911 dispatcher, I tilted my head towards my leg. My face turned to a sour look as I began to move it around. The metal sliced deeper into my calf, hitting a nerve. I snapped back to a regular consciousness and screamed through my pain.

"Bloody hell..." I muttered, beginning to cry again. Emmalee watched me closely, hoping I wouldn't pass out.

"Breathe, Andren. I know it hurts, but the paramedics will be here soon."

I nodded, but soon felt as if I was floating. My vision became blurry, and my heart began to race. Am I dying!? I frantically thought to myself. I used all of the strength I had left to stay awake for a few more minutes before blacking out.

I ended up having multiple surgeries. I'd gone through almost all of the major muscles in the back of my left leg, not to mention two bigger nerve points. I wasn't able to walk for months. The doctor told me it was a miracle I hadn't gone any further, because it would've cut into my achilles muscle. I wouldn't have been able to walk, let alone dance. When I'd woken up after my last surgery, a doctor quickly filed into the room.

"Good, you're awake. We have some things to discuss." She said, beginning her rounds.

"What do you mean?" I asked, shivering at the cold of her stethoscope.

"Well, I think you'll be able to walk with a few months of physical therapy, but I doubt you'll be able to dance. And it's likely you will lose feeling near your ankle. We tried our best, but the nerves probably won't heal."

I nodded, silent. The doctor quickly finished her rounds and left for the next patient. What she didn't know, is that I felt the grasp of everything I'd known for the past five years was slipping away. Dance was the reason I was still alive. But now...there was a slim chance I would ever put pointe shoes on again.

I spent the last few nights in the hospital crying myself to sleep.

I used the little money I had to start physical therapy for the next few months. Soon enough, I was able to walk again. At the time I was feeling extremely depressed. I'd shut off all notifications on my phone except for email, because that's where I would receive updates on therapy.

When I dared to step back into Fedorova-Couture Dance, I was attacked with hundreds of dancers, including my classmates and instructors.

"Oh my god, Andren! I didn't think you'd ever be able to walk again!" One of my closest friends, Terri, sobbed. I smiled at her. I received cards and gifts and hugs. Before Madame Delphine studied me. She slowly slid her hands under my curls and cupped my pale face.

"Andren. You have shown me time and time again how much you deserve to have a spot on my stage. You've worked and worked until an audience filled your seats," She looked at the crowd of dancers watching us. "And it's time you get what you deserve."

Emmalee swiped out a bulky envelope and handed it to Madame Delphine. She nodded a thank you to Emmalee and slid the envelope into my hands.

"What's this? I asked.

"It should pay off your surgery bills, and get you therapy for the next three months. We want you to join our team again."

I began to protest, but quickly burst into tears. What I thought would never be in my reach was flying at full speed towards me. I was going to build up my muscles, embrace my scars, and get on my toes again. Everyone gathered around, hugging me as I calmed down.

"Thank you all...so much..."I laughed and wiped a tear off my cheek.

Obviously, I did what the doctors told me was impossible. I worked and fought and cried...and danced. I started with simple classes, soon going to what I'd been working for. Pointe. And, soon, I had five ballets and two lead parts to my name.

Hi Everyone! What do you think of the story so far? Any suggestions?