in your head

guitar strings

          I always love to watch daddy play the guitar, he would learn a song and I would learn to sing it. Daddy could sing to but his voices is deeper and more scratchy so he has a harder time than I do with singing,

And I can play a few tunes on the guitar but I don't really know any of the cords that well so you can see where we have to kind of rely on each other to play any music.

it was summer so we had more free time and it has been a while since daddy had picked up the guitar. Daddy was wanting to get back into the guitar so he just started back up,

He started learning a new song, a song that I had not even started learning, a song I have never even heard but he likes having the opinion of the other people in the house so I was sitting with him in the living room listening to him play. He would start over every once in a while when he messed up to much, he was not singing the song this time though I have heard him sing it when he was showing it to my sister or mom.

I watched my father plucking the strings, playing the song on his guitar, I would hear him grunt or growl every once in a while when he messed up, sometimes he would start completely over and other times he would just start over where he messed up.

I watched daddy slide his finger on the cords, changing the tune of the song, I didn't notice right away but he left blood behind on the strings.

I froze

I didn't know what to do, I didn't know what I just saw. My father has tough hands that handle things worse than stringed instruments and he had most definitely not been playing long enough or hard enough to make his fingers bleed.

I should have said something, or done something to stop him, but the confusion was to much.

I looked at the bloody string and his fingers, then I would look up at his face.

Am I going mad?

He shows no sign that he feels pain, or even notices that he is slicing his finger.

He just keeps playing.

More and more blood comes from his fingers until it is dripping onto the wood and onto his lap.

"Daddy" I say, trying to get his attention.

He keeps playing, not acknowledging my presence any longer.

I swallow a lump in my throat before trying again, this time a little louder "daddy"

He still says nothing.

I take a breath, watching daddy play on, still unaffected by his bleeding finger he begins to sing along.

His voice is different, deeper.

Is this a dream?

This isn't right!

This isn't my dad!

But it has his face...

What do I do?

He won't listen.

I think and think and snap from my thoughts at a new realization.

Where is everyone else???

I heard my brother just a moment ago yelling at his video,

And my mom was yelling at him to quiet down.

Wasn't my sister just there watching videos on her phone with the cat?

I think as I look at the carpet where I last saw my sister laying, where did she go?

Then I hear a new noise.

I never heard the sound of bones rubbing against guitar strings...

Well not until now.

I look back up to my father. I can tell his voice is starting to hurt from the singing by how rough it sounds, but still he sings on, his flesh rubbed away and now bones are plucking the strings.

I must be losing it.

I yell at daddy to stop but he doesn't listen so I reach to grab the guitar from him but he plays on unaffected, ignoring how I am messing up his playing like I am not even there.

My world is spiraling and I am hopeless to it.

Just breath

Just breath

I try to find something to zone in on to calm myself and clear my head.

Just breath

Just breath

But I keep zoning in on the guitar music

Just breath

Just breath

Daddy's voice is beginning to sound less and less like his own.

Just breath

Just......

The next I open my eyes and the music has stopped the guitar is broken and the house is completely silent.

My sister is there, and so is my brother and mom.

They say nothing, just lay there covered in red.

I laugh a little to myself in relief.

See, I'm not crazy, I think as I hear the sirens closing in and a knock at the door.

____________________________________

This just popped in my head one day while I was sitting with my dad in the living room, a lot about the story is true,,, kind of, it actually came to my mind while I was thinking about a time where daddy DID actually make his fingers bleed by playing to hard.

And I do still call him daddy, I have had plenty point out to me the fact that I do, I am 17 and I call daddy, daddy, momma is momma and sissy is sissy, and I just call my brother by his name. I blame it on old habits die hard haha, though now it is mommachan and daddychan, sissy calls them mombo and dadbo and one day momma decided she would rather mommachan and daddychan so now I sometimes call them that hahaha.

But anyway I do hope you liked the story and if you saw anything wrong go ahead and bite me on it and have an AMAZING day... or night.