I practiced this dance a million times. I practiced my greetings and my words. Everything had to be right.

I had to act and speak just like them.

Thousands of miles separated me from my home town; a place no one on this strange continent knew existed. Nobody here knew what lay beyond the vast expanse of water surrounding this place.

The polish on the wooden boards shined as my foot took another step. It was accompanied by the soft sound of a click from my simple, beige heels.

The dress I wore, abhorrently long and large — though not lacking in beauty, with a slight purple, sparkly hue, swished against my ankles with every step. The man leading me in the dance was, no doubt, the towns golden boy.

The way he looked at me would’ve sent any, regular girl into instant cardiac arrest.

When I looked at him, however, I didn’t feel a single thing. I should have, I really should have.

He was exceedingly handsome and so so very charming, but, being constantly reminded of my past, I didn’t allow a single crack in the wall that shields me from everyone else. I can’t afford to love and lose, not again.

My heel clicked on the ground again, instantly reminding me of the one night that ruined everything.

I was wearing heals that night too.

Another dancing click.

Suddenly, deeply enthralled in the depths of memory, I was in a snow-covered wooden cottage. A handsome but different man from before stood in front of me; his jugular vein bulged from his neck as his voice rose unpleasantly high.

I walked away, the sound of my heels getting quicker and quicker as I realized he followed too closely behind. My body strode for the door, not caring about the icy harshness I’d face outside.

It was better to be cold than to stay inside with a man who acted so out of proportion.

Without a second thought, or as much as a glance in the furious man’s direction, I thrust opened the door and stepped out.

Before I could escape the man grabbed my hand. His grip deathly tight.

“Stop let me go. Let me leave. You’re hurting me.” I said, just as my gaze landed on the shotgun that regularly sat outside the door, used to fend off the wild mountain cats and wolves.

“What was that?” The voice sucked me out of my head. My feet stopped moving and I reached my hand up to my cheek to feel it wet.

“My apologies. I was just thinking about something.” I offered the towns golden boy, Damon, my sweetest, most reassuring smile.

He seemed to relax just a little bit.

“So you don’t want me to ‘let you go?’” Damon’s eyes held an odd weariness, one that he’s been more frequently looking at me with.

Well. I guess I said that out loud. I inwardly groaned at myself. Stupidstupidstupid.

“It’s nothing, Damon. Don’t worry. It’s fine, really.” I leaned in closer to him, putting my face against his chest. If he couldn’t see my face, he wouldn’t be able to see the lie.

Instead of dancing, we swayed. I didn’t want my heels to click anymore. I didn’t want to remember the sound of that awful shot gun when it fired, not once, but four times.

In my old town, no one would’ve believed me when I told them what happened. I would’ve been condemned to burn without a hearing.

After all, in those lands, women were only lambs, and lambs were so frequently brought to the slaughter.