Listen Lucky

21. Serious Secret Spilling Session

It had been a long day. A confusing day too.

Riley asked to the dance, Will got mad at me for no reason, Peter asked Emma to the dance and I freaked out in front of my friends.

They probably thought I belonged in an asylum.

There was only one activity that used my mind so thoroughly that it would allow me to forget what my hideous day and that was playing the piano.

On a day when I wanted to forget I would make up my own songs or attempt to learn a new one just by listening to it, I could already play the ones I knew without thinking.

I sat down and soon enough the notes were flowing, create quite a sad sounding piece of music, but romantic too. The magic of music is the way it makes you feel.

I was so lost in my little world I didn't even hear Will come in through the window, didn't hear him take a seat on my bed, didn't notice him listening in.

My hand slipped on a note disrupting the natural flow of my song. It frustrates me so much I slammed down on the keyboard creating that horrible cacophony of notes.

"Not the ending I would have gone for," Will spoke up, making me jump so hard I fell off of my seat.

"Stop scaring me like that!" I yelled, putting my hand over my racing heart.

"You honestly didn't hear me come in?" he looked to the window and seemed surprised.

"I don't notice anything else when I play piano," I told him, pulling myself back into my piano stool.

"That's how I feel when I read," he said after a few moments. "I came to check that you were okay, after Dex you know..." He trailed off awkwardly.

"I'm fine, he just surprised me that's all," I lied, looking away to avoid his eyes.

"That's not true Lucky, you don't like when anyone touches you," he pointed out. It was like he could see straight through me. I was a book for him to read.

I didn't say anything. I wanted to tell him everything, but I said nothing. It was like the words were stuck in my throat and to speak them aloud would bring the world I had built up in the last two years crashing back down.

"I don't drink alcohol because it reminds me of how my father drank and I'm terrified that I'm going to become like him.

I'm afraid of small, tight spaces. Every time I'm in a claustrophobic situation like that I have flashbacks to the time when he locked me in the closet for talking back to him, or sometimes just for existing.

It's incredibly stupid, but every time I see someone smoking a cigarette I feel a little chill go through me because I'm conditioned that way. My father used to use me as an ash tray and I have the scars to prove it, on my back mainly.

My only reaction to a difficult situation is anger and when I feel threatened my only solution is violence because that's all I've ever known.

So, when it became too much for me and nobody took any notice of the small little boy who complained about his father who hit him, I made them notice me. I stole and got into fights so that they would take me away. And it worked, but I got really good at being bad and it just became a lifestyle for me. Initially I just wanted to get out of my dad's house, but then I couldn't settle anywhere. Ironically, my criminality was the only stable thing in my life.