one shots

Her

Walking into the house, I expected to hear the usual silence of nobody being there, but heard what sounded like a whimper. I stayed quiet, keeping my breathing to a minimum, so I could confirm if I had actually heard the sound or just imagined it.

As I stood there, statuesque, I heard an even louder sound – a scream.

A strangled scream filled with absolute pain and terror.

I dropped my bag at my feet and began to run toward the source of the bloodcurdling noise. It was coming from my music room. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me, stumbling several times – and almost falling – over the rug stretched across the wooded hallway floor. It never seemed to stay flat against the surface no matter how hard I tried.

Another scream pierced through the atmosphere, echoing in my ears and my mind.

The voice was familiar and that scared me.

If the shouts belonged to who I predicted it was, I knew my eyes would not be pleased at what scene they were to be met with.

A certain dread filled my body, starting in my heart and circulating through my veins and into every bone that made up the skeleton that is me. The nausea of my anxiety sloshed around inside of me, my sprinting not coming to my aid.

Coming to an abrupt stop before the closed white door of my music room, I took a moment to replenish my oxygen and attempt to calm my jitters and the trembling of my soul.

My shaky, bony hand reached for the door knob, hesitantly turning it and opening the only thing separating me from the disheartening sight awaiting me.

Slowly bringing my eyes up from the black combat boots dressing my feet, I came across my worst fear.

There the woman stood above her with a metal baseball bat.

She brought the bat down onto her, cackling as the loud cracking sound reverberated around the room and inside my skull.

Her screams of pain were like that of nails scratching down a chalkboard. It was unpleasant and most definitely upsetting.

I felt bile begin to crawl up the back of my throat and threaten to spew.

"What are you doing to her?!" I wailed once I was able to find my voice and knew it was stable enough to speak.

I cried out as the bat smashed against her once again, causing my heart to feel as if the woman was reaching directly into my chest and squeezing my heart with all of her might.

"Something I should have done a long time ago!" The woman spat, angry tears rolling down her flushed cheeks. "You're too obsessed with this- this thing! It's not natural!"

"You watch your mouth, you she-devil! She's not a thing. She's the most important thing in my life." My voice had died down to almost a whisper. "I love her."

The woman rose her arms up, readying herself to bring the bat down upon her once more.

I ran clumsily at the woman, grabbing the bat and ripping it from her hands. I harshly threw it across the room, wincing at the booming sound of it hitting against the floor.

"What is wrong with you?!" The woman screamed, her hands placed on my shoulders as she shook me. "Why are you like this? What did I do wrong?" She banged her fists against my chest as she cried, soon collapsing to her knees.

Beginning to walk away from her, I furiously pried her arms off of my leg as she desperately tried to hold onto me.

As I approached her, my whole body was enveloped in sobs.

My shoulders shook violently and my whole body convulsed at the force of my cries. My legs gave out and I fell, my upper body sprawled across her.

"I'm sorry that she did this to you," I whispered, my fingers carefully tracing along her surface. "I'm so sorry I couldn't save you."

I didn't care about how much it hurt when her splintered wood stabbed at my face or pierced the skin of my fingertips as I stroked her.

None of it hurt as much as the pain in my heart.

I felt like vomiting at the sight of the demolished black and ivory keys that once decorated her so elegantly.

Memories of all the times my fingers danced across her played in my mind.

I remembered all of the countless hours and days we spent together, creating meaningful melodies and learning beautiful symphonies composed by some of the most famous.

Sadly, they would remain as memories and – no matter how many times she apologized – I would never forgive my mother for destroying her.