Tethered Hunger

Chapter One

{Bernadette}

To survive is to endure.

That's what my mother taught me, yet I refused to when I lay on the ground. The chilling touch of cold mixing with the warmth of my own blood sends shivers around me.

God, this isn't helping.

...

'Bernadette, gentle.' I open my eyes, realizing I am still in the middle of my piano pedagogy, I quickly look at my instructor, muttering a small 'sorry' before my fingers move on their own, continuing playing, more gently than before as she instructed.

'Anything on your mind? A pianist cannot play beautifully with a distracted mind. If you need, you can take a break and clear your head.' a soft voice with a thick Persian accent spoke, her eyes scanned my face trying to read me.
'No, I'm fine.'

I dare not look up to her, she knew me since I was 8.

She reads me like an open book, she is the only person who actually knows.

'Keep playing, and focus' she orders and I obey. Obeying them is what helped me live, they are hungry animals. Hungry for power for control, but it's not easy to get that power so they find weaker creatures to control, to eat.
I was hungry once, but not for power but flesh. I wanted someone warm for me to hold, to be as close as I could and feel its heartbeat, a beautiful reminder that it was alive. But none of them stayed, they all rot and stink in the bathtub waiting for the earth to take it and make it hers, a part of her.

One week before,

The phone rang, its shrill echo filling the empty room,
the sound of the phone echoed around the empty room, not a single sunlight breaking through the blinds 'hello...?' 'Bernadette it's me your mother.' 'oh, what do you need.' 'I want to see you, I have something important to talk about'

...

I do not want to meet her 'I'm not available this week'
'what about the weekends...evening.' I keep silent, thinking of what to say to avoid this.

'Bernadette?'

'I don't...'
'I wasn't asking, we will meet Saturday evening. See you at the usual park place.'
beep...beep...

I stare at the floor processing the phone call.

Oh, how I wish I could murder her.

I look up to the giant grandfather clock in the other room that is visible through the open door, 7 P.M I should get ready for dinner.