Dance, Sugarplum

His eyes stick to me, burning my skin as I twirl across the stage. My legs ache with exhaustion, and my head spins, but his hunger pushes me to excellence.

His voice echoes in my mind with each step, reminding me that my best isn't enough anymore. This Christmas he's the only thing between me and rock bottom.

Mikhail is the only director brave enough to take a has-been like me, but I'm not foolish to think his acts are born out of kindness. His price is high, and his demands are darker.

Snow flurries, sugar plums, and sweet magic.

I'm the broken nutcracker's doll, and I enter his world willingly knowing there's no coming back.