A small girl, seventeen, just over five feet tall, walked out of a worn-down schoolhouse; her long, dark hair like a second shadow following her around. She seemed to be happy, smiling a smile only angels could possess. In her delicate hands she held an early acceptance letter to one of the most prestigious music schools in the world. She quickly slipped it into her backpack just before a car looking older and more worn down than the schoolhouse pulled up, and the girl reluctantly climbed into the front seat.
"You seem happy today, what happened?" the driver demanded. He was a boy, with a white blonde mop of hair, tan skin, and blue eyes. He looked to be around eighteen or nineteen years old. He had a bored expression as the girl settled into the green seat of the old car, as if she had gone through this exact process millions of times.
"Nothing happened." The girl answered, responding with as few words as possible. She tried to hide her excitement. "I haven't heard from any colleges yet."
The boy, as oblivious to her lie as ever, rolled his eyes. "Seems you've failed today. Another day wasted. I hope you don't expect that music will actually get you anywhere in life, other than making me some extra spending cash, especially when you can't even get into a stupid college. You're lucky your covers are still making money, or I'd be taking money from that pesky mother of yours." The girl had to keep her true emotions hidden, and in the process she frowned, making the boy's mouth twist into an angry snarl.
"Why are you frowning at me?? You know I'm right, and there's nothing you can do about it. You will go home and continue to make me some money, you hear me?" The girl simply nodded. The boy smirked slyly, satisfied with her submission.
The car finally slowed to a stop in front of a magnificent, modern, yet unwelcoming home. The boy killed the engine and walked up to the house, opening the door with a set of golden keys and stepped inside. From the car, the girl could see all the beautiful furniture the boy had bought with her hard-earned cash. He brushed his too-long blond hair out of his face and turned to look back at the girl with a stone-cold glare.
"Hurry up and get out before I lock you into that dump you call a car!" He shouted. Quick as a mouse, the girl exited the car and began her journey home. She slung her backpack up onto her back and began to walk. And walk. And walk.
Nearly twenty minutes later, she arrived at a small, unassuming home. She smiled as she walked up the steps, her smile became even wider when her mother opened the door before she had even rung the doorbell.
"I see you're happy today?" The girl's mother asked, though she already knew the answer to her question. Her mother's short, light brown hair was pulled into a neat bun at the nape of her neck. She stretched her arms first, then her legs, tired from the days work. She was wearing her flour-covered apron, still finishing the day's orders. "Julliard?" The girl smiled even wider. She nodded.
"Full ride!" The girl exclaimed happily. Her mother hugged her, though their difference in height made the hug ever so slightly awkward.
"That's amazing! Have you told that boyfriend of yours?" The girl silently shuddered at the mention of her boyfriend. Her mother pulled away, and then rose to her full six feet of height.
"No." The girl responded simply.
"Well, when you do, tell him I say hi. Lovely boy you've picked up sweetie..." she trailed off. The girl couldn't disagree more, but she didn't want to kill her mother's idea of her love life. I only keep him around for you... "I'll go see what celebratory cake I can whip up. Your favorite?" The girl nodded. Her mother smiled. "I'll go see if we have any cherries." The girl followed her into the house, taking in the scent of her mother's baked goods.
The girl walked through their small living room, and into her music room. The dining room-turned-musical walls were artfully covered in awards, newspapers, and photos of the girl smiling brightly with many renowned musicians. In many of the more recent photos loomed the girl's boyfriend, his face controlling and greedy. In the corner of the room stood a beautiful baby grand piano that the girl had worked nearly five years to save up for. In the center of the room stood a recording microphone, a music stand, and a chair. The wall on one side of the room had been pushed back to create a niche for the storage of the girl's very impressive collection of instruments, including a violin, a cello, an oboe, a viola, a flute, a trumpet, a trombone, four types of saxophones, a euphonium, two types of clarinets, and a french horn. She carefully picked up her violin, pressed record on her microphone, closed her eyes and began to play.
The girl and the violin became one. Music flowed out of her instrument like a river, filling the small home with beautiful music. Within the next two hours, the girl had written a new piece for the violin. The girl smiled to herself as she wrote the last note on the page. This particular piece of music was full of happiness and sorrow, ups, and downs, reflecting her soul.
She heard her mother pulling ingredients out of their commercial-sized refrigerator, and she knew that her cake was almost complete. She quickly posted a "new music preorder" on her website, making sure it was hidden from her boyfriend. Within minutes, the music the girl had composed had already made three hundred dollars in presales. Smiling brightly, the girl walked into their kitchen.
The kitchen was just like the girl's music room, but simply with baking supplies instead of instruments. Her mother ran her home bakeshop out of their own kitchen, and the house always smelled like sugar. Sitting on the pristine white marble counter was a freshly baked two-tiered black forest cake, with the word "Congratulations!" surrounded by music notes, various fondant instruments, and a mini fondant Juilliard building. The cake was immaculate just like all the girl's mother's work; chocolate frosted exterior, precisely placed cherries, beautiful fondant decorations, and font-like writing. She gasped at the sight, making her mother smile.
"I'm glad you like it. Now, here's to your new college life at one of the most prestigious music schools in the world!" Her mother's face was full of pride, both of their eyes shone bright with happiness and pride. The girl carefully cut the cake, and dug into her mother's masterpiece. After her second slice, the girl's mother picked up her phone and quickly dialed a number.
"Who are you calling?" The girl asked, confused. There wasn't anyone to call, as her father had left them so many years ago.
"Only your boyfriend! You have to tell him the good news!!" The girl's eyes widened with horror. .
"Mom no-" Her mother raised her eyebrows but it was too late.
"Hey Ms-" The girl's boyfriend started. The girl's mom cut him off, missing the hint to hang up from her daughter.
"My baby got a full ride to Julliard!" There was silence on the other end of the phone.
The boy's voice went eerily emotionless. "I'll be right over." The girl immediately froze in shock. Her blood turned to ice. He was coming here. To her house. He was going to kill her. She didn't have the courage or the time to find a way to tell her mother the truth; all the times he had beat her, all the times he had yelled at her, the tens of thousands of dollars he had taken from her work, all the things he made her do for him. The girl's heart raced as she fled from the room, her mother as unseeing of her fright as ever. The mother only seemed to pick up on the happy things in her daughter's life, and completely miss the abusive, cold, and terrifying relationship her daughter was in.
It took the girl's boyfriend ten minutes to arrive at her home.
It took five minutes for him to sweet talk the girl's mother into leaving the house for a few hours, saying that they needed to bond before the girl went off to college.
It took three minutes for the boy to find the girl hiding in her music room, behind all of her life's work.
It took two minutes for the boy to find all of the achievements, contracts, and money the girl had hidden from him for so many years.
It took a minute for the boy to destroy the girl's life's work.
It took only moments for the boy to beat the girl to death using the very instruments that gave her life.
