Life's Lyrics

Chapter Five

Saturday, October 26

102 days until the release day of the album

Number of songs written: 0

Once again I sit at my piano, not a having a single thought able to make its way onto my blank sheet. Pressure. Pressure. Yeah I was having a lot of pressure put on me, but no way can I come up with a song about pressure. I bang my head against the keys, hoping that somehow without thinking my head could create a tune. "I hope that's not going in your album," my head jerks to the doorway, where Spencer is standing in black skinny jeans and a loose grey shirt. "Rude. You come up with something then," I say turning back to the keys. The next minute he is standing by the piano, staring down at me. "You never had trouble writing before?" He glances at my blank page, "What was it that made you write when you were at home?" he asks, just as Lyla walks in the room. "My piano, my room, my life." I say whispering the last bit. Lyla speaks up, "Well it sounds like a case of homesickness to me," my eyes widen; the last time I was at home was Christmas two years ago.

I remember I had walked into our wooden kitchen, the smell of Christmas dinner had lured me. I had stopped in the doorway to watch my dad stand behind my mother, kissing her neck while she stirred a pot, I had smiled, just the way I am now remembering this. I knew right there and then I was going to write a song about it, and that I did.

I did want to go home. I needed to. "I think you may be right," I get up and taking my music sheets, "I need my piano,"
"You look like you're leaving, now?" Lyla says, sadly. I nod my head, making up my mind.
"Yeah I think I am," I run around the room packing my music and inspiration into a small bag, "I need this. To get away" They follow me as I move to my bedroom, packing up my clothes into a suitcase, smiling the whole time.
"Bu-but we just got here,"
"Come with me!" I say, quickly turning to them both. "You haven't been home in a while have you?"
Lyla looks at Spencer, asking a question with her eyes.
I was so excited I couldn't help my hands from shaking, my body from jittering. I would see Mum again, and Dad. I had to try so hard just to concentrate on packing. I'm 21 and cannot wait to see my parents again. "I guess we could..." Lyla says, laughing at my face as she says it. I jump on my bed and dance around, "Yes. Yes!" I laugh, falling down on my back.
"What's so funny?" My eyes flick to the door. Sebastian. My excitement fades so fast it's like I never really was excited. I never thought about Sebastian. I close my eyes before I speak. "I-I was ju-just excited because I'm going home tomorrow..." my voice fades as I look at him, sitting up. He raises his eyebrows and his eyes meet mine. In that simple gesture, I know what he is telling me. This time I don't want to agree. I don't want to falter in his presence. But I still do. I drop my eyes to the floor, and I notice Spencer glance at me. "Spencer, Lyla. Can you please leave for a moment? There are freshly baked muffins in the kitchen." Sebastian says this with so much authority it shakes my world. Lyla's eyes light up so it doesn't take much convincing for her to leave. Spencer on the other hand, he looks at me and I nod, and then he finally leaves. Then it hits me. He left me. I am alone with Sebastian. "I want to go," I say it with all the courage I could muster. Just as expected he laughs at me, "You think I'd let you go away with them," It comes out just as painful as a slap, maybe worse.
"You were listening," I meet his eyes not backing down, knowing Spencer and Lyla are just in the kitchen gives me courage. He wouldn't hit me with them in the house. "Of course I was... I can't have you blabbing," I glance out of the corner of my eye to the far wall, where I just saw him look, nervously. Cameras. He has cameras in the house. Spying. Spying on me. I spin on my heels and run towards the door, but he grabs my wrist, wrenching me back to face him. He smirks evilly and shakes his head, "Silly girl. Silly silly girl," I struggle against his grip, doing anything to stop this from happening again. Not again. He lifts his hand, and this time it comes in slow motion. His hand colliding with my cheek. Then a punch to the gut, my legs falter, and I fall to the ground. I think it's over when there is another kick to my side and another and another. I close my eyes squeezing the tears out, as I stand with the only courage I have left. "You're not as smart as you think, you just put your secret on display," I say gritting my teeth and showing the red outline of his hand print on my cheek.
He laughed, "You wouldn't dare."
I smiled bitterly and ran out of the room, but it wouldn't dare would I?