I didn't see him for the next two weeks.

June was burning bright, summer's heat swarming Chicago.

Longingly, I looked out the window.

Luciano ordered his men to never, under any circumstances, allow me to leave this house.

I know that, because every time I tried, they'd repeat the same words verbatim.

Deena disappeared, but I wouldn't know where. Whenever I ask, I'm told that I don't have a high enough clearance for that answer.

My bones ached from being so sedentary for so long.

I'd memorized the shift changes, and I knew every guard by now.

I never forget.

I never forget anything.

I knew there was a shift change in which I'd have a thirty second window to dash away.

My eyes flickered to the clock.

It was the third shift change, so they wouldn't look in my room.

Timing it just right, I dashed out of the room, shutting it behind me with a giggle.

Freedom at long last!

Roaming the large halls I found nothing of import.

Nothing except a pair of French double doors, magnificent and solid.

I had to go in.

I just had to.

With a quick glance, I pushed them open, surprised when they offered no resistance.

It's as if someone saw me and unlocked for me. Still, that'd be impossible. No one would open the doors, they'd apprehend me.

Sneaking inside, I shut the doors behind me, wincing with every creak.

A startled gasp escaped my lips as I looked around me.

All around me were books; shelves upon shelves of them.

In the middle of the room, there was a piano, and seat.

The ceiling was clear, letting the night stars light the room.

It was a circle. That struck me as peculiar. I'd never been inside a circular room before, and though it seems like it wouldn't make a world of difference, it did.

I felt surrounded, and snug.

Protected.

Venturing further, I circled the shelves, glimpsing the spines of books, noting the variety.

"This is awesome," I whispered to no one.

In that glorious fragment of a second, I was the girl I used to be.

In that fragment of a second, I was happy.

The feeling faded, but still moved me to sit at the piano.

I hadn't touched one of these since... Since I was 13 years old.

That was a decade ago.

I hadn't sung for more than a decade. I hadn't sung in thirteen years and I remember exactly why.

I can never forget.

Momma was cooking some spaghetti. My belly churned, but I smiled. Whenever momma cooked something tasty, she laced it with something deadly.

Momma doesn't like it when I'm happy for too long.

The scent of meatballs filled the air, along with pasta sauce.

I smiled.

At least I would eat today.

Even if it'd come up the next morning.

My momma said the reason she does things to me that I don't like is because she hates me, but she loves me.

I didn't think that was it.

Hiding in the living room, I made myself small, just like I always did.

I sung myself a little song to past the time.

"Night falls

Sky blue

Moon winks

At you

How many things can you see?"

Not really finding any other words I just hummed the tone, my fingers itching for a piano.

"Are you singing?" Momma asked sharply.

I give a fearful nod.

She scowls at me, the scent hatred coming from her, making me sick.

"You don't sing. I don't wanna hear you sing again." She bit out.

"But I like singing Momma—"

My cheek stung, my head nearly cracking as fast it swiveled.

She smashed a glass cup across my face. I was lucky I had eyes.

I blinked away tears, blood leaking from me trailing down my shirt.

"You wanna sing like a song bird, go live with the song birds," she yanked my arm, dragging me outside.

I stayed quiet, made my body limp, let myself be dragged.

She flung me onto the ground, dirt wiggling under my nails.

It was nearing winter, bitter cold swamping me. I heard the door slam, knew it was locked.

I'd be out here for a while.

My skinny arms wrapped around myself, rocking slowly.

"Night falls

Sky blue

Moon winks

At you

How many things can you see?"

I sing to myself, silent tears freezing on my face in the night.

I sung myself to sleep, rocking back and forth.

Never did I sing again.

I remember thinking, I don't know why the cage bird sings, but I'm not gonna do it anymore.

On the bright side, I missed my dose of ammonia that night.

Flickered back to the present. And here I am, my fingers so anxious to caress the keys and make peace through the notes.

My voice quivered with the want to sing. Wanting to sing again.

The words just come to me, like they used to.

"When you call my name,

I don't answer.

I don't know her anymore.

Things just aren't the same

They're not better

Just a different cage.

And I can pray to myself

I can pray to the sky,

But nobody hears when I cry

So I will make music

I will make peace

I know how to do this

With a stroke of the keys

I will make music

Until I learn to fly

I will make music

As a prayer to the skies.

I will make music

I will be free

I know I can do this

It's a part of me

And they tried to take it

They tried to kill my soul

But I will music until I go cold."

Aching fingers lift from the keys,

when did I start playing?

My head drops, tired

How long has it been since I slept

But I feel lighter. I feel lighter knowing that a piece of me has come back.

I shut the piano case, get up silently, stabbing that returned piece of me.

Heaviness settles, but I know it's for the best.

Music lifts you up, but I always come down. I'd rather stay there.

"Hope is for suckers," I remind myself.

Hello loves! So that song? I wrote it, so don't steal it! Also whaddya think of this chapter? Personally, I'm in love it!

Hello loves! So that song? I wrote it, so don't steal it! Also whaddya think of this chapter? Personally, I'm in love it!