The creak of a stool as it was sat upon by a small boy. Pale, ruined fingers graced the ivory keys. Dark red from the small abrasions covering his fingertips. Smeared across, dripping as the keys sounded throughout the hollow room. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move as he watched. Key after key, pressure on the pedal, flip the page.
Cry
-ing. He couldn't speak through his tears as he faced the woman. He was so scared, he couldn't move. The bruises on his body ached. He was cold, shaking. She was mad, furious, angry. His fault, his fault. Her fingers
rak-
-ed across the keys. His fingernails made no sound on the keys as he pressed down. He couldn't focus but he kept playing. He couldn't focus yet he played perfectly. He felt
brok-
-en. He was silent. No amount of screaming could save him. It never could. He struggled in her grip. His nose, his lungs, his mouth, his eyes, everything filled with water. The fleeting thought ran through. Just kill me, please. His own voice sounded so
desper-
-ate. He wanted to break out of this stupor. Everything felt so distant. Everything was so suffocating. He wanted to stop. He wanted to stop this! Please stop! Stop it! Stop. Stop it. I don't want to anymore. I want to leave! I want you to leave me
al-
-one again. The house was quiet. He sat in his room, he didn't care to leave it today. He looked to the window, it was always covered. He had never looked out, he didn't even know if that was how it worked. He wondered if she would know if he did. She probably would so he laid in
be-
-d, bed was a better place than here. The piano crashed against his ears. It was too loud. He wanted, needed to stop. The smallest gasp escaped his pale lips as his fingers slammed down on the keys. He blinked, dark eyes staring at the ivory. Ivory smeared with blood. Ivory poured in tears. A blotchy face dripping with tears. A heart forever shattered, a soul never repaired.
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