(we're a) Fine Line {HS}

XLIX - Melody {Outro}

All I can hear in my head are pianos. Calm melodies like the ones in the wind, because I never felt the wind anymore. So they've been playing in my head ever since my first entrance in this cell was falling helplessly on the ground, for I had no more reasons to put myself at the effort of standing. However, I'm not alone in here; there are other women of all ages, and it was their faces I opened my silently crying eyes to, laying down at their feet as they studied me.

They've come to know I hear the pianos. They don't hear the pianos, but they hear me hearing the pianos. At first I allowed them to lift me, although I did absolutely nothing to make it a easier task, but they managed to sit me at a table and kept studying me attentively in silence. And I kept looking down, somewhere I never know anymore where to, humming to that first melody I was hearing in the moment.

I tried to understand if I already knew it or not, but I couldn't. I still can't. I never heard them before, but at the same time I can easily go along with them as if I'm making them up. But I'm not because I don't try to. They are just there for me to pay attention to them whenever I want. And I was, in that moment. I don't mind the other women to hear them by my humming, and they don't seem to mind me either. They didn't, in that moment. I would say they were that quiet only because they were triyng to hear the melody in between my sobs.

But soon I started to have conscience of those sobs and their meaning. The gazes of the women started to burn on me and I started to have conscience of my presence among them and in that place I still hadn't looked around to. And so I started hearing the sound getting louder, trying to win that piece of my attention back. But the more the notes were played aggressively, the more it made me think. The more confusing and complicated the melody became, the clearer I saw his figure stretched out on the road, the blood taking his light away. And soon I was screaming the melody that had turned out very ugly.

I begged it to stop, called for him and fell on the ground again, covering my ears. All of it uselessly, of course. He wouldn't come and it didn't want to stop, and I've learned that if it doesn't, there's nothing I can do. Unless I pay attention to it only, but it is so awful that I fear it can cast curses upon me. The more I heard it, the more I thought - and the more I thought, the stronger it got. So I was cought up in that circle and I broke for the first time.

For the first time because that time it was for real. He's gone for real and not just gone to jail or somewhere I could eventually bring him back from. His life is gone. Along with that came guilty - if at least I would've obeyed to the officers right away, at least Harry would still be alive and history would just harmlessly repeat itself. But no, I reached a level of incompetence I never thought I could, and here we are.

I broke like I never did before, in a way that I started questioning the worth of my own life. I started to understand why he tried to forget me when it was his turn in a place like this without me. It does hurt too much to remember. And for moments I was determined to do the same; move to a country I don't know at all when I get out of here, tell my close ones to never speak of him, avoid anything in the street that might be related to him and never hear his songs again. But will I get out of here? I don't think I can hold on so much long. Might as well end this already, so I looked for something that could do it.

I should've taken the shots, why didn't he let me? I came to the conclusion that at least he's not going through this for me like I am for him, and death is indeed much better. But he didn't deserve it, even less because of me. He always deserved so much more than me. Yet he decided my life was more worthy than his own, so he pushed me away from the bullets. But did he know the bullets would go to him instead. Did he want to save me, or did he want to save us?

Well, we were not saved and I was only in a logical way. In reality he left me to long for saving even more than I ever did, and he won't even be around to do it anymore.

That reminds me of a song, but I can't recall it properly with the piano in my head. I hear violins too, today. I never did, so I don't understand what they mean, so my humming has become more confusing than it was the past months. Now, I can't decide if either I hum to the keys or to the strings, and I've tried to do both. It ended up in a mess, but I still let it anyway. Because I know if I don't, I'll think, and it will become much, much worse like it has happend so many times since that first day.

If at least songs told us they will mean something one day, maybe we could appreciate the moment more, knowing what they say will be something we will cry to. It makes sense in my head, but then again, my head is a piano mess and I don't even know what is sense anymore.

Poor jail women, they're the ones to deal with me and my breakdowns. But they're always there when they see it's coming, either because they worry about me or simply for their own sake. I swear some of them have started to tell me "Listen to the piano", but either way that got stuck in my mind. I keep reminding myself of that everytime I start getting too uneasy and bouncing back and forward nervously.

Even more now that the bump my belly turned into prevents me from doing those movements, so I need more conviction to say it so I don't drive insane. The jail women got so happy for my bump and now they are very serious in making sure I eat, once I didn't in the first times here and I still wasn't thinking of doing so.

But I've come to discover it has a baby inside. I'm having a baby. I'm having Harry's baby. And that suddenly became the reason I'm still on my feet. Although it hurts me they'll never know each other; Harry grew to have a descendent he died before he got to know he did, and the descendent will grow to only hear about their father, but never to know him.

One time I was sitting on my prisoner bed, looking down at it and rounding it with my hands softly, and, suddenly, I found myself hearing the most beautiful melody with the most beautiful notes played in the piano. It felt like butterflies in the winter. And yet I could sense a warm end of afternoon and I still remember how nostalgic that tear felt across my face when I could also sense a sunset.

In that moment I knew this is something else. I can't explain what exactly, I just know it made it feel right to promise myself I'd at least make his death worth; if he died to save my life, I won't end it myself only because I don't have him anymore. If I think about it, now I do; I have his baby. And because of those two reasons I promised myself to take care of keeping him alive in my memories.

So I've convinced myself Harry is the one playing these pianos.