Grey

Music Is Not My Muse

Grey's POV

    The worn, ivory white, piano keys sat still and silent. The black keys rested upon them and they were all waiting to be played. I was sitting there wondering if I should play them. Maybe just a note or chord. Though that would open the flood gates and I wouldn't be able to stop. I wouldn't be able to stop feeling.
The seat beneath me squeaked as I tried to move away from the large, black, grand piano. I didn't want to, but I swore I would never play a note again.
     My mother, Gwen Luciano, played the piano very well. She had told my father when she got pregnant with me that she would teach her child to play everything. The piano was her escape and she played it at least once everyday. As a child I sat and watched her in our music room. I watched as she leaned and closed her eyes. As she cried because, "The music was just so beautiful." Her hands moved with swift purpose as if the piano was apart of her. She had beautiful blond hair, which she always wore up in a pony. Green eyes with little flecks of gold in them, and she was always wearing a smile on her face. Her eyes had always captivated me and I saw nothing but love in them. She was short compared to my father, but then again most people were and she had the ability to make anyone around her smile. It was contagious.
She had taught me a variety of music, ranging from contemporary to new. When I was little I always loved to hear Chopin. Specifically Nocturne No. 20 in C Sharp Minor. My mother played it so well and she said that, to her, it plays what life is. The happy, the sad, and everything beautiful. Soon life seemed to make more sense when I played the piano.
My father, Landon Luciano, loved and hated it. He loved to hear it playing in the house when he came in but he also hated that I, his son, loved to play the piano more than learning about the family business. We are a large Italian family, so keeping the business running was the main priority.
The business consisted of being the main leaders of all the gangs of the U.S. it sounded very intimidating when I first heard of it. That was when I turned 15. My mother often told my father that she didn't want me involved with the business. She said I was a natural pianist and that I should attend college for music when I graduate.
They often fought about such things and it often lead to Dad slamming the door and leaving for the night. Only for him and her to act like nothing happened the next morning. I do have to give them some credit because that's all they ever fought about. They never yelled at each other, other wise. They were perfect for each other. All perfect things don't last in this case.
The night of my 16th birthday is the day that changed my life forever. All three of us were sitting in our large living room eating food and opening my gifts. My mom said that she had a big surprise for me and when I opened my first present it was an application to a very well known school for gifted musicians. Though I was still so young she wanted me to start thinking of what I would audition with and start taking my music more seriously.
My father was enraged at this and stormed off. She spent the night cleaning up the party and I was in my room thinking about what I wanted to do with my life. Staying meant possibly living my fathers life and if I went I would love my life, but what if that wasn't what I truly wanted either?
All I remember hearing next was a scream from downstairs. I ran down and saw a dirty and matted black and white wolf crouched over the dead body of my mother. Her blood was pooling under her and spreading across the floor. Her green eyes that were always so alive, were dim and cold. The wolf growled and charged at me and sliced the side of my face open with it's claws.
My father's body guards were in the house then and I saw them morph into wolves as well.
"Master Grey, are you alright?" Someone questioned as others detained the wolf and drug him out of the house. I sat there on the ground looking at my mother's lifeless face and anger filled every crevasse of my body. I couldn't hear the sound of the people talking to me. I started to shake and the temperature of my body went up and it felt like I was on fire. The first thing to snap was my wrist, then my elbow, and then my arm popped out of the socket. The pain I felt mentally and physically was enough to make me black out, with the eyes of my mother and Chopin Nocturne No. 20 playing in my head.