THE 33 KEYS: Key 2 - ANSWER THE CALL "Listen for that Perfect Beat"

CHAPTER 43: ONE LAST CHANCE

At exactly five o'clock, I sit to write Ebony's sister a letter but the words don't come. There's no blockage. Everything I want to say is at the tip of my tongue. It's just that they're trying to get through the gate at the same time, and I'm not budging until they simmer down.

Dear Castle Thief,

Your sister's death left a festering wound in my heart. And that's just the half of it. So I am never going to get over that moment. Nor will I forget the pain I endured after what you did to me. To say that your betrayal made me come undone is an understatement. What you did was tear my soul out after her death cut the first thread. Then you cut the collar off. And after that, enemies scattered my essence in strange paths; so unfamiliar that no map can guide it back home again.

The only thing I had left of Ebony was that castle. And although it wasn't much, those quiet corridors, with their cracked walls, captured her righteous hums. I used to listen to her spin the first webs of soulful songs, the ones they stole before the tragedy. So now I haunt new corridors at night just to hear her voice. But she never comes. Perhaps she's waiting for my childlike steps to make their circuit and recreate our past. Then we'll both be free to enter each other's spirits and truly heal. Or maybe she'll never sing again because you broke those walls down and replaced them with your own version of the perfect family.

And I too leave it unsigned. Now the bottle of pills has my full attention. Should I end on this note or play the whole tune out? Just as I'm trying to decide, someone bangs on my door.

Aren't people tired of bothering me by now? Who the hell is it this time? The obvious suspects are Tessa or Hazel. I'm really hoping for Tessa. That way she can catch a glimpse of my wall. With any luck, she'll rush off to complain and tumble the stairs to her death. Oh, wouldn't that be such fun?

Now that's a room cleaning I can volunteer for. In fact. You know, I mightn't even object to entertaining another half-dead tenant. Goodness knows she'd better come soon because my hourglass has literally become grains of sand.

But what if it's Hazel? Can I even put up with her optimism right now? Or perhaps if Hazel can't make it, she can send one of her angels. I'd like to see that scene play out. It would be a banging way to go. At any rate, I'm at a point where I no longer care about anything. Let them all come tumbling in. The soon-to-be dead. The dying friendships. Even the rotten corpses.

I open wide to show off my masterpiece then pull the door back before she turns around. That's my level of importance now. Not even my closed door can hold someone's focus until it's opened. Before long, I uncloak her distraction. Tessa steps out of her creepy closet and stands beside Matron Malika Caine.

What the hell is this? An intervention? Well, let me be the first to say that it's too late. My boxes are already packed. The first letter has already been written. Just two more remain and I'll be out of your lives forever.

"Have you got the money to pay up?" she asks dryly.

I'm about to say no, as is the custom; but all my feelings are stashed away in those boxes.

"Zero."

"What?"

To my surprise, Tessa belts out. "She means no."

See? She doesn't speak Pethiel. How can she know what my zeroes mean? Spies, I tell you.

"Miss Pethiel, for once I won't let your stupidity change my mind about helping."

"But I don't need anyone's help. By Sunday I'll be out, just like you wanted."

Tessa interrupts.

"Look, Matron Caine knows what you're planning to do."

"That's none of her damn business. Yours neither."

"Mary, I swear I'll walk out of here right now if you don't zip it."

"Won't hurt me one bit," I snap. "I'm not the one who knocked on the door. Leave for all I care."

"Look!" Matron Malika Caine snaps. "Do you want the job or not?"

"What job? All that nonsense is over. I'm leaving on Sunday as planned."

"It's an embassy job," Tessa explains. "I pulled a few strings to get you hired."

"How's that even possible? They hired me without seeing a resume?"

"Like I said, I pulled some strings."

"Well, what of type of job is it?" I ask indifferent. "What's this big prestigious position?"

"A janitor position." Matron Caine says, and then adds. "Buys you one more week."

"So that's my level now?" I ask, and their jaws drop.

"Girl, you're way past ungrateful. The only level you should worry about is your rising rent."

"Like I said, it's a done deal. I don't know why you're even trying."

"Why we're trying?" Her voice hardens. "You really think we have to do this?"

"You're here, aren't you?"

"That's it!" She throws her hands up in the air. "Pack your things, Mary! You're out tonight!"

"No, Matron; no!" Tessa touches her shoulder. "Come on, Mary! Be smart for once. Just take the job. It's already yours. Take it!"

"Okay, I'll bite," I reply cheekily, my volume almost on mute. "When do I start, my Queen?"

"What the hell did you just say?" Matron lunges at me. "Girl, I'll show you."

Tessa wedges herself between us before Matron Caine makes contact. Still, I step back for my own safety.

"All right; all right!

"All right, what?" Matron shouts out of control. "We don't have all damn day! Out with it!"

"Calm down, Matron. I said I'll take your stupid little job. I'm taking it! God dammit!"

The shock of my response becomes her sedative. But after they finally leave, my anger flares up. I storm over to the bottle and grab it up with intent. Who are they to think they can stop me? What makes them believe they can change my mind that easily? A whole bunch of angry questions swirl around in my head with no answers to quench their thirst. And there I remain for at least an hour, trying to figure out whether I should pretty myself up for eternal sleep, or woo myself back to planet earth with a cold shower.

Eventually, I decide that the whole thing is one big game; that someone – maybe God – is toying with my emotions, bringing me to the brink of death then giving me hope that all the tomorrows can be mine, if I want them. So I decide to humour the game master by pulling back my fingers one by one and letting the bottle of pills fall back on to the dresser.