Disclaimer: kaiba.berry does not own Billy Elliot

Author's Note: After a lot of hard work and effort i wrote this as my narrative for english last month. We had to write the story of a minor character in either Billy Elliot or Bend it Like Beckham. I chose Billy Elliot because it was never explained in the film why Marie Elliot never became a professional dancer and i wanted to share my own opinion as to the reasons behind it. Marie Elliot also reminded me a lot of Anzu Mazaki from yugioh which is probably one of the main reasons as to why i chose to write my story about Marie, as it was easier to write a character i could relate to previous half finished one-shots i've written with Anzu and to a character i've read so much fanfiction on and base Marie on that. I hope you all enjoy it!

Dedicated to: i will dedicate this to my best friend miss evil ishtar! it's a shame that she hasn't yet posted any of her work here yet.

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse, Murder, Drugs and Alcohol

The fairytale

Her dress rustled in the wind as she ran along the darkened rundown path. The sound her footsteps made against the path was drowned out by the pattering of the rain falling hard against tin and slate roofs. She was out of breath, and the sweat glistened across her forehead as she panted in exhaustion. The sound of the rain hitting the footpath beneath her consumed her as the tears continued to stream down her flawless cheeks mixing with the rain droplets dripping from her hair. Her soaked hair was clinging to her face, as was her thin dress which provided her with no protection against the harsh elements.

Fear still plagued her as she continued along the uneven path towards her destination. A fear of being caught, a fear of a wrong decision, a fear of an uncertain the future. The icy rain sank further into her skin, dripping of her already soaked form. Her normally twinkling cerulean eyes looking as murky and empty as the puddles that collected on the sidewalk around her. Dancing was the dream she so desperately wanted to become a reality. Though it had never happened. All that left her was the dream of one day finding her prince charming. The rain stung her skin and fresh bruises as the downpour heavied. She could never dance again now that she had lost her father. The guilt of his death came rushing back to her, her lip quivered and suddenly the hurt she had been holding inside burst from within like a broken dam releasing the tide.

It had been entirely her fault; she should have listened to him. She should have taken his advice and left Brandon. He was right all along; Brandon had never wanted what was best for her or wanted her to dance, all he had ever wanted was to control her and destroy the dreams she spent so many hours making right before her eyes. She could no longer put herself through what she had promised her father she would leave a year ago. He had warned her of what Brandon was like and what was likely to happen, but she had never listened. She was always stubborn when it came to her decisions, one she made them she was set and no one; not even her father this time could make her realise what a mistake she was making. And what a mistake it was.

Just hours after a huge argument with her father where he had tried to persuade her once again to leave with him and she had told him that she couldn’t do it in fear for her safety, an as of late drunken Brandon had returned home. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence for him to arrive home in a state like this, though if anybody had told her this twelve months ago she would have just laughed at them and told them to lay off the crack. She had never thought the man she fell in love with would turn out to have a side that she had never imagined possible. A side where he craved a sense control and was willing to do anything to get it, a side of substance abuse which had often led to actual physical abuse. And as she was about to discover, an even darker side of him; a side of rage driven cold blooded murder.

The scent of stale alcohol lingered in the air as she noticed traces of cocaine lining his right nostril. His words slightly incoherent and slurred as he grabbed her forcefully by the arm and pulled her closer. The harshness of his grip left her arm feeling battered and bruised. It was what he said next that caught her attention. Amongst the mumbling and erratic outbursts, she heard him rant in anger about something that sent her into a state of shock. His voice dripping with venomous insults directed at her father. She felt panic build within her as she wondered what had caused such anger directed towards her father. Her father and Brandon hadn’t had any form of contact in over a month making it difficult to understand why he was so worked up about it now. It was then that an unsettling feeling of apprehension overcame her. She came to a dreaded conclusion that he must have crossed paths with her father since her father’s departure a few hours ago. Her worry escalated as she imagined the possibilities that could have occurred between an angry father and drunken possessive boyfriend.

Nausea settled in the pit of her stomach as a sense of realisation washed over her. She knew what had happened; her father would have confronted him and told him not to touch her and Brandon would have done what any drunken possessive boyfriend would have. He would have fought back, only Brandon always had a way of taking her worst nightmares to the next level so she knew it would be much worse. A tight grip on her chin broke her chain of thought as Brandon forced her face him. A sadistic smirk graced his hard features as he confirmed her worst fears. The four words that would change her life forever came so casually out of his mouth it made her sick with disgust. “Too bad he’s dead”. Her eyes widened as she choked, unable to speak. His words shot through her like an arrow burrowing deep and the guilt rose like bile in her throat. She felt her world crumble down around her and smash at her feet; as if made of fragile glass. She felt a dull ache in her chest as she glared at him with such intensity and disgust.

As she pulled roughly out of his grip he slapped her hard across the cheek. The air echoed with the sound as if it were thunder, she stopped, her eyes wide as she slowly, numbly, brought a shaky hand up to touch her cheek where his hand struck her. It stung. Furiously she took a fist to his face resulting in a crash as he stumbled to the ground. His fall was broken by a mahogany coffee table as his head struck hard. He was knocked out. A surge of pride overcame her as she looked down upon her accomplishment. Her father would be proud. At the thought of her father tears began to trickle down her face. It was then that she decided she wouldn’t let her father’s death be in vain, she would finally leave Brandon. She only wished she had done it sooner and his death could have been prevented. She had made the decision to leave him tonight and to never look back, unable to live with the guilt of living with the man responsible for the loss of her father.

She’d lost track of how long she’d been running as her legs began to give way under the weight of the bag on her shoulder. Even over the pouring rain and the screeching of tyres against the wet roads the sound of random chatter became louder and less distant as she neared her destination.

City lights gleamed against the wet roads as she rounded the final corner towards the large crowds. As she crossed the road towards the crowds surrounding the performing arts hall a puddle on the road went unnoticed. As she slipped and fell her bag slipped from her shoulder to the ground. The shattering of glass was heard from within the bag. Fresh blood trickled down her knee to join the bruises her body already bared as she bent over to the bag to retrieve the broken object. She pulled out a broken photo frame, the glass smashed and the photograph askew.

Fresh tears threatened to fall as she brought the photo closer for inspection. It was a fairly old photograph; unlike the others she carried with her in her bag. The photo was slightly crumpled and torn, as if it had been crumpled up in a ball sometime before being placed into the elegant frame. She brushed a slender finger across the photograph as she gazed at the two people standing in the frame. A young girl was perched upon her father’s shoulder, the summer sun illuminating her golden ribbon tied pigtails as they stood by a lake posing with large cheeky grins plastered across their faces.

A single tear landed upon the smashed glass of the frame as memories of her childhood came flooding back to her. The afternoons spent playing in the sandpit with her father there playing alongside her, mornings spent hosting tea parties under her favourite tree for her dolls with invitations happily accepted by her father as they dined on plates piled high with her famous peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and heart shaped fairy bread. In all the childhood memories she could remember her father was always right there with her, there was never a day that passed that she wasn’t playing hide and seek or playing dolls with her father. He was her best friend, the one person she could always count on to be there for her; through the tears and the smiles... he was always there.

The tears she tried so desperately to hold back began to stream down her face, before coming to rest at her lip as she brought a shaking hand up to wipe them away, as if to pretend they had never fallen. A cold breeze of icy air chilled her until her pale skin was fresh with goose bumps and she shivered involuntarily; her body desperately craving for warmth, anything to bring lively colour back to her paling features once again. At least she had believed that he would always be there for her.

Unfortunately for her though, her life never seemed to go as she planned. It was never the fairytale she had so naively seeked out as a young girl. The kind her father used to read to her as he tucked her in at night, where the beautiful princess was rescued by her prince charming and they would then live happily ever after. But she had worked far too hard and sacrificed far too much already to have none of her dreams become a reality. She wanted to dance. Her childhood nights spent dreaming about the day she could stand up on that stage with the spotlights shining down on her, the anticipation running through her veins at the sight of her father in the front row clapping and cheering at her performance. But that would never happen now. Though looking back at it she realised just how foolish and naive she had been. Fairytales aren’t reality, at least not for her.

She knew she would leave town tonight, while she still had a chance. But she couldn’t leave town without visiting the performing arts hall one last time. One last time to see the role she missed out on performed before her. To see the other girl stand in her spotlight, live her dream and find the love that she never would. She had lost everything chasing after love. A love she never found in the end. It had not been worth losing her chance to dance and her father too. The only love she could have in her life now was that for her unborn child. Discovery of her pregnancy had come as a shock to her leaving her lying awake at night with a fear of what Brandon would do if he found out, contemplating an abortion as she knew she couldn’t keep it with Brandon but she wasn’t strong enough to leave and raise it on her own. She’d been too scared to tell him and too scared to tell her father. She felt guilt at never telling her father that he would have a grandchild as she realised that she will now never have the chance.

Leaving was what she had to do, even if it meant her unborn child would never know his father. For that she was grateful, she couldn’t ever raise a child with Brandon. Could never let her child be put through what she had been through. It was for the best. Every step she took was another one away from Brandon and another one towards her future. She discovered something that night, but it took her until now to realise it. A new dream she never realised she had, the dream to be a mother. Along with the rediscovery of the strength she long forgot she had. It was what she wanted to do even if it meant she could never get a second chance at her dream to dance later on in life. The childhood fairytale dream never became a reality, at least not for Marie Elliot.