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He played for me when I was at my lowest. I’m unsure if this will pull him from the darkness he’s found himself in, but I have to try.
I straighten my posture and lift my fingers to the cold white keys.
“For the Damaged Coda” by Blonde Redhead.
This is a piece I know by heart. I close my eyes and let my hands play with the memories of my horrible past. Pain is what inevitably brings this song to life… because no great piece of art is made without a little suffering backing it.
Will I reach him?
I dare a glance over and he’s staring at me with surprise. I wonder if he knows this song too. Or perhaps he’s just stunned that I’m actually playing after sitting here and refusing to for the last three weeks.
The melody comes easy to my muscle memory, even though it’s been years since I’ve played. My hands remember and my heart knows the keys.
When I shut my eyes once more, I’m met with my mother's angry face, her undiluted hatred for me glaring right into my soul. The scowl she wears wrinkles her nose in disgust and bores deep into my bones, instilling fear in my veins. The bruises she left on me never heal in my mind. Never.
Not good enough.
Never good enough.
I stop playing mid-song, dropping my hands into my lap and standing abruptly, dismissing the rest because I don’t feel like reliving some of the worst segments of my life.
It hurts too much. It’s easier to leave the bones in the grave undisturbed.
Jericho calls up the next person without meeting my eyes. As I step past him, he mutters, “Good job today, Coldfox. This is great progress.”
I manage a small smile at him before plopping into my seat. Liam looks over at me. The distant fear in his eyes has faded and in its place is awe.
“That was beautiful, Wynn.”
My shoulders slump. Itwasbeautiful, but not on the inside. The music is lovely, but the havoc of playing corrupts my mind like poison snaking into what’s left of my shell.
I shrug.
He grips my chin and forces me to meet his gaze, and reluctantly, I do.
“Can you teach me to play that song?”
I raise a brow but I’m desperate to know: “Why?”
His blue eyes sear into me like the coldest rain. “Because it looked so painful, and I want to take that pain from you. We can make better memories for you to play to, don’t you think?”
A smile curls my lips and I nod. “I’d really like that.”
“It’s a date then.” He wraps his arm around my chair, and as he does, I see red bandages beneath his shirt.
The sight of his blood makes me nauseous. When did he do this? He was doing better… At least, I thought he was.
But I guess he probably wonders why I want to die, and I bet it makes him sad too.
Maybe wecancure one another.
Wouldn’t that be something…
Liam smiles sadly at me as he whispers, “It’s just a small cut, Wynn. Don’t look so upset. I tried not to… but I—”
I grin cruelly back at him because how dare he say something so dismissive about his illness to me. “I just want todie, Liam. Don’t look so glum.”
He barks out a laugh—maybe because it isn’t funny at all.
