Can You Believe What They've Done To You?

A bundle of broken nerves.

January 25th 1836

 The girl was indeed most familiar, but I couldn't quite recall who she was, or even so much as her name. She looked at me, her emerald eyes were wide as that of an owl's, her pale pink lips were parted slightly, the corners tugging into a tiny smile. She stared hard at me, as if she knew me and expected me to know back, Whilst I swore I knew her, I just couldn't remember...

The man at the piano sighed before turning to face me and the maid.

"Master" the maid curtsied "The boy is awake and dressed now. Shall we begin?" I looked up at her, fear coursing through me. Begin, what? I wondered. The grip I had on my case tightened until my knuckles turned white and my fingers began to ache.

"Of course."  the man turned in his stool so he was directly facing us. "Come closer, boy."

The maid gently pushed me forward, smiling brightly. I didn't feel anymore safe.

"I see you have a violin. Tell me, boy. Do you play well?"

"I play as well as I can." I whispered, still unsure of what was going to happen.

"Play for me. Show me what you can do." He smiled.

With shaking hands, I took my old, weather beaten violin out of it's case, resting the body against my shoulder and holding the bow gently in my quaking fingers, playing the first thing that came into hy head, which just so happened to be Pachelbel's Canon in D. Quite a lovely piece, I must say. One of my favourites, unsurprisingly popular. I closed my eyes as I played (quite badly), when I was rudely interrupted by myself as the strings squeaked loudly. My eyes flew open and I stopped playing.

"Not too bad for a boy your age. Especially with a piece such as that one . Of course, with some lessons, you will be perfect in no time. Pack up your things." I did as instructed, quickly and silently. "Now, return to your room. Your lessons will begin tomorrow, first thing."

I looked over to the girl one more time. We exchanged a long glance before the maid ushered me back up the stairs to return to my room.

"O-on the top floor of the west block. Cell W-14." the other man stammered, wiping away the last of his tears whilst keeping a tight grip on Kier's hand.

"Thank you-" Kier paused. He didn't even know this man's name and he was already asking him questions.

"Drew."

"Thank you, Drew.  I'm Kier, by the way."

"You're Kier? Laurence mentioned you a bit..." Drew smiled.

"He... he did?" Kier whispered, not believing Drew's words.

"Yes. I can see it in 'is eyes and the way 'e acts... 'e misses you..."

Kier sighed. He missed Laurence too, terribly. "How can I get to him?"

"Sheer luck, I suppose. Once you get outta quartantine, they place you inta any cell you can fit in, dependin' on how... 'insane' they think you are. The 'igher up the buildin', the 'crazier' they think you are."

"But... but you said Laurence is on the top floor... What did he do?" Kier frowned.

"Don't really feel like t'is my place to tell you. To be honest with you, I'm not entirely sure myself. I'm only up there with 'im because there was no room anywhere else."

A long while passed and not another word was exchanged between the two men. Suddenly, Drew let out a stifled yawn.

"Tired?" Kier smiled, to which Drew nodded. They lay their bodies down on the cold, dirty stone floor, preparing for sleep.

"What's this?" Drew enquired to no-one in particular. He reached over slightly, picking up the unknown objects. "Is this... paper? Where'd ya get paper from, Kier?"

Kier sat up slowly. "They are not mine. But I believe them to be diaries." He paused. "Laurence's diaries."

Drew carefully studied the papers in his hands as best as he could in the darkness. "Yes... this is Laurence's hand... He'd never leave these behind. Gaurd's 'em with his life, he does."

"He was forced rather quickly out of here. Perhaps he did not have time to collect them."

"I shall 'ave to return 'em to 'im when we next meet. Thank you, Kier."

AN:

Eeeep sorry for the shortness, I've a terrible case of the dreaded writer's block :(

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