Solitude - Book Two to 'Desolation'

Fourteen

Soft music rang through the room, some kind of piano; it was beautiful to her ears, which rang endlessly.

The room had a familiar feel, like she had been here before. Perhaps she has been in this room, but there would be no way to tell if she had.

The room itself was dim — all but a small overhead light that shone over a piano. An anonymous person played the keys delicately; you could tell he had played for a while.

Soft tufts of golden hair popped up from the edge of the piano. She made her way to see who had been playing — a built blonde boy with toned skin. He was strangely in a suit, something you'd wear to a wedding. Glancing down, the girl was wearing a bright white dress.

The sleeves were translucent and trimmed with a beautiful black lace. Strange she thought.

The boy stood from the piano and turned to the girl. His eyes glimmered, like two emeralds in the sun. The expression he held was close to a poker face; lips sealed shut, eyebrows relaxed.

He stepped before her, his torso lowered in a bow. He lifted her hand elegantly, their eyes locked on each others'. She watched him kiss her hand with precision and an indescribable softness for her. Cold was the only way to describe the feeling of it.

I know this boy she thought. It was true, he was close to her; utterly and inexplicably close.

The boy snaked an arm around her waist and pulled them closer together. He pulled them into a slow waltz, they're eyes never left the other. No words had to be said, not even a simple hello. They way the two moved together was enough to know how connected the couple was

He was so gentle with her. Every kiss he gave, no matter where, was always so soft. Softer than any Chinese silk.

His name always hovered on her heart, but she never said it. It wasn't needed.

The couple soon became surrounded by mirrors, their reflections illuminated in the dim lighting. The boy held the girl from behind, his hands on her waist. She turned her head to a mirror. Who stared back frightened her beyond measures.

The dress she wore was now stained red, her skin peculiarly whiter than paper. To her, she looked dead — like a corpse dug from the grave — and the three ominous silhouettes entering the mirror's surface did not help.

"Elizabeth... jump." Her head spun to face the edge of a cliff. Below sat crashing waves that moistened the rocks. "Jump!"

A hand pushed her forward, and she began a quick topple to the water. An overwhelming pressure slammed into her back as she smacked into the water. Nostrils burned, lungs squeezed shut, and she lost her breath. She sank lower and lower, to the bottomless darkness of the water. All feelings were gone from her heart — she was soon gone, left at the bottom.

"Elizabeth.."

"Elizabeth!"