Everything I love gets destroyed. First, my biological family, then my adoptive parents. (Or at least I thought.) My life is a wreck, the only control I have is my mafia and company. Until one man decides he wants to change that. Fredrico Rossi, a...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I sat at the piano.
I brush my hands gently along the keys. I smile when I think of the last time I sat here.
•FLASHBACK TO NINE MONTHS AGO•
I watched my dad sit at the piano. My mother was beside the piano in a rocking chair she read while she rubbed her swollen belly. Troy sat in between her legs, listening to the story.
Dad turned around and smiled, "come play with me honey bun."
I wave my hand, "nah i'm not as good as you pops."
"Sit," he said and scooted over. "I insist."
I make my way over and sit down next to him. "I'm going to teach you a new piece today," he says.
His hands glide across the keys gracefully. He's always perfect when it comes to the piano. I've never heard him mess up in the nine years i've known him.
I watch as he gets lost in the music. He's so good he doesn't even have to look at the damn sheet music.
"I'll never understand how you're so good at the piano," I say as he pressed the last key.
He opens his eyes and smiles, "practice makes perfect honey bun."
"Your little sister is going to love the piano," He says with a smile.
I raise an eyebrow, "oh yeah? How do you know?"
"She kicks every time I play."
"You sure that's not her saying 'stop my ears can't take it?'" Troy asked.
We all laughed while dad uttered a dry 'ha ha.'
"You got jokes huh?" Dad muttered dryly.
Troy smiled, "learned from the best."
"So what am I learning today?" I ask and scoot closer to him.
He smiled and gave me the sheet music, "don't worry V, this is going to be easy for you."
•FLASHBACK OVER•
I tensed when a hand touched my shoulder. "Hey V, you alright?" Sabrina asked.
I quickly wipe a stray tear and stand up, "yes i'm fine. We can go now," I tell her. I close the lid of the piano and push the bench in.
"You can have a few more minutes if you need-"
"I'm fine Rina, let's go," I tell her.
At least once a month I visit the house my parents, brother, and I lived in. I moved out of the house after the funeral. The house felt smothering and in every room I could feel the presence of my parents.
