Identity [ON HIATUS]

6. Daisy Plays Piano

I had a small keyboard in the corner of my room. It had gathered dust in recent months because, though I loved the sound, I was a perfectionist. If I didn't get it right the first time then I didn't want to bother. If I wasn't a born pianist then what was the point?

But this evening I needed it. I needed the comfort of its melodic tune, of how each note slid into the other so effortlessly like it was only ever just one that I was playing. They all fit together, all nice and neat like they were supposed to do. They fit their purpose, they didn't deviate, didn't rebel.

I played for a little while, letting my fingers glide over the white keys, never really liking the sound of the black. As I heard the front door again I glanced at my clock on my bedside table. I'd been playing until midnight. Mom and dad hadn't even banged on the wall for me to shut up, I wonder if they'd wake at the sound of Rose coming home.

And then suddenly, she was leaning against my door frame, her hair frizzy from being air dried. My fingers fell from the keys as I turned to face her.

"Don't stop Daisy. I always liked your playing..."

"It's not exactly The Stone Roses, is it?"

She laughed, playing with her set of house keys in between her fingers, glancing at the floor. Rose was never one to show her true feelings, to reveal anything, even to me. It was then that I noticed the rip in her tights, the bruises on her arm. My mind jumped straight to Charlie Merchant, Rose's faceless boyfriend. He was trouble, and this was the proof.

I stood, nearly knocking the stool back, but she shook her head, as if reading my mind.

"It's not what you think."

"Then what is it then?"

She looked away from me, trying to hide what must have been a tear rolling down her cheek.

"What is it?" I repeated, but instead, she walked off. I followed Rose to her room; it was in the same state as I had seen it this morning, messy and smelly and dirty. Clothes still lay on the floor, her bed sheets were crumpled, makeup strewn across her desk. It was all untouched, like nothing but a ghost had passed thought it.

Rose didn't sit, didn't really move properly. She looked around at everything, at her room like she was surprised to see it. And then, she turned to me, tears in full view.

"Call the cops, Daze."

I woke with a loud sound throbbing in my ears. My head had rested on the keys of my keyboard, the notes mashing together and creating a gruesome noise. My head felt heavy, like I'd been hit hard on the side of it, or even crushed. I wondered how hard my head had fallen when I hit my keyboard when I fell asleep.

My door frame was empty, there was no one there. 3AM my clock read and I rushed to Rose's room through the bathroom, as quietly as I could. Everything untouched, like a ghost had passed through.

I woke mom and dad before we called the cops.

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