r e a p // michael clifford

Chapter Three: Pianist

I felt nothing.
No pain, no anger. Nothing physical, nor emotional.
I felt nothing.

The only thing I could feel, was the bed I was laying in. It felt like a big cloud, and I was slowly adrift in open sky.
But it didn't feel like mine. It was far too comfortable and soft to be mine.

I opened my eyes to a maroon canopy above me, a slight glow coming through. I sat up slowly to observe my surroundings. The bed was massive and filled with silks and tassels, as well as millions of pillows and blankets. I barely took up any space on it., due to the enormous size. The pillars on the bed were a dark cherry wood, which tied in with the floors. The room was well lit from the sunlight outside, and the walls were the same color as the canopy. Everything was lavish, and luxurious. It was dark colored, yet clean and crisp; not a thing out of place.

There was a set of large French doors that led to what looked like a balcony. They were covered by what looked like silk curtains. This was nothing like my house. I knew very well that this wasn't my house, it couldn't have been. But where I was, I wasn't too sure.

My mind started spinning of possibilities where I could have been. My house was ruled out, and my next thought went to the hospital. I ruled that out as well, because this was too fancy to be a blank white hospital. I immediately touched my neck, where I slit my jugular artery with the blade. No mark, no cut, no scar. There was nothing there.

Was I dead? Was this heaven? Maybe; that would explain the missing scar. I looked around before quickly pinching myself on the arm. There was a slight pinch and I retracted my hand. I wasn't dead, which ruled out heaven.

My thoughts were interrupted by the tinkling of piano keys. It was a beautiful medley, one I couldn't recognize. The chords and melodies echoed in through the open door to the left side of the room.

I wasn't alone.

I lifted the heavy covers off of me and slid out of the bed ,only to find a shiny red piece of fabric slide out with my legs. I stood and looked down to my attire: a long, red, sequined gown with a slit up my left leg that stopped mid thigh. On my feet were red pumps. They made me about 6 inches taller than I was already. My hair was up, but I couldn't exactly see what it looked like.

I exited out the door and entered a long corridor with high ceilings. The lavishness continued out into the hall, high ceiling and expensive tapestry, large pictures and the occasional plant in a vase. I started down the carpeted hall towards the music.

I stopped at an open door and gently peaked around the door frame. A man sat with his back to me as he played the piano. I watched him quietly as he continued to play a quiet song. He had blazing red hair, and my eyes grew large. I remembered my last vision before I passed out; the red haired boy who held me as I died in his arms. He was wearing shaggy clothes with holes in them and tight jeans. He looked very out of place in this house and at the large grand piano.

I stepped into the doorway, confused about what to do. "He-Hello?" I called in.
The man instantly stopped playing the piano, but didn't turn around. I watched as his head looked down at the keys, and he slowly extended his right arm. And then, not looking at me, he snapped his fingers.

🌾🌺🌾

Carter's face was the first one I saw when I woke up. He sat next to me on my bed, his face filled with concern and sorrow.
"Liza?" He whispered looking down at me. "Liza are you okay? I heard you left and I came home and there was blood and you were passed out and I- I didn't know-" His brown irises danced wildly as he grabbed my face, his glasses slightly slipping down his face. I sighed as I tried to comprehend what just happened.

"Carter, shh. I'm fine." I said quietly. "I'm fine."

"I... I found your blade. But- I- I didn't find any marks. I was really scared Liza."

Carter had been my best friend since I moved next door to him when I was 6. He was the first true friend I'd ever had and he knew all of my secrets. He always took care of me and looked after me, even though he was 7 months younger. He was taller than I was, with dark hair that he always jelled  into a quaff. He was slim and some days he looked dorky while the next he would look bad ass. His personality was always changing from one day to the next. It's just who he was, and who he'd always been.

"Carter, I'm fine, okay? I'm okay."

He reached around and pulled me close to him as he caressed his face into my neck. He always hugged me like that., and it always made me feel a bit better.

"Are you okay? I mean, emotionally. I know today is already a rough day for you but what happened today was asinine. I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"It's fine. I'm fine." I spoke sternly.

"I can tell somethings on your mind." He said.

I didn't tell him about the pianist.