I awoke from my slumber to the radio going off, playing a song I had only a few times before. Even though I ached to lie in bed and listen to it, I turned it off; the last thing I wanted to do was wake my mother. If I did, and breakfast wasn't made, she would be angry.
I quickly got out of bed, dressed in only a sports bra and sweatpants, and ran out of my bedroom then down the stairs.
I made eggs and vegetables in a serving for one person only.
Few minutes after the food was ready, my mother came downstairs in her usual white blouse and black pencil skirt, her fake blonde hair in a tight high bun.
"I don't have time for breakfast, Carolina. Throw it away."
I did as she said, repressing a sigh as I watched the food slide off the plate and into the garbage. I was starving.
My mother then narrowed her eyes, stalking towards me. She stopped two feet from me, nose raised. "You have gained weight, Carolina," she accused in a cold voice. "I told you, you're on a diet."
I made sure to keep a straight face.
Her tone became slightly condescending, yet still cold. "No more food today, understand?"
I nodded silently, looking down at my bare feet, wiggling my toes.
"Now hand me over your lunch money," she ordered. I quickly did so, afraid of what she would do if I made her wait any longer.
"Now, before I leave, do not eat anything today, or I will find out, and you will be punished. I will not have a cow of a daughter under my roof," she said in a cutting tone before walking out the door.
I finally let out a breath as the door slammed behind her, unable to help myself from glancing at the food in the garbage before walking slowly up the stairs. Once in my bedroom, I walked straight towards the mirror before taking off my sweatpants and staring at my reflection.
My mother was right; I was overweight. But no matter what I did, I couldn't lose the pounds. And I didn't want to. I didn't care about my weight.
What I did care about was the fact that I had become ugly. My once gorgeous big, brown eyes were now dull. My short, self-cut dark brown hair had lost its shine. I had scars on my wrists and thighs.
I used to be so pretty.
All in all, I didn't look like I did three years ago. Back then, I was happy, healthy, and I had a father. My mom was cold, but my father kept her warm. And they loved me for who I was.
But most of all, they loved each other.
It was the kind of love you thought you only saw in books and movies. The kind of love you always, deep down, wished you had. The kind of love that gave hope to others.
My parents got married a year before they had me. They loved me and treated me like I was an angel sent down from heaven to live with them. I knew it seemed unlikely, knowing how my mother treated me now, but even she loved me, in her way.
Until my father died.
I quickly cleared mind, refusing to cry. Turning away from my horrid reflection in the glass, I threw on a kangaroo hoodie over my sports bra and put my sweatpants back on.
At that moment, I wanted more than anything to curl up in bed and sleep my near-constant headache away. Instead, I made my way down the stairs and through the kitchen, grabbing my backpack on the way and was out the door.
I wasn't sure if I could make the thirty-minute long walk to school. So against my mother's strict commands to walk to school every morning, to 'lose weight', I caught the bus at the last second, not really caring if I were to get caught or not.
As the bus approached school property, I pulled at the sleeves of my hoodie, making sure my wrists were well hidden.
As I got off and headed towards my locker, I tried my best to ignore the crap everyone was saying, assuming that because I was mute, I was also deaf.
"Hey, Caroline!" The high pitched voice made me wince. Stupidly, I turned around.
Standing before me was the friend I had lost three years ago. I did agree that it was my fault. I had been horrible to her even before my father died, but after, I had been even worse. I pushed and pushed her away no matter what she did. She finally dropped me, found friends who would put her on a pedestal, and made me thoroughly regret ever having treated her like shit.
Fight fire with fire, right? I'm sorry, Aimée. But please move on.
"Why are you just standing there, freak? Did your daddy refuse to drive you to school this morning? Oh, wait... He can't anyway, can't he?" She smirked, but I could see the hurt still in her eyes. Her minions laughed. I made sure not to react; I had fucked up enough. Losing her was what started the tidal wave leaving me alone in the middle of the wreckage.
Hell, in a way, I still missed her.
I kept my face neutral, void of emotion. Her words hurt, but I deserved them. I turned my back to her, took my music books out of my locker and walked away, heading to my first class. At least I had music first period to cheer me up.
Guessing that Aimée realized she wouldn't be getting to me today because she didn't follow me, I breathed a sigh of relief
Once I arrived to class, quite early actually, I nodded in greeting to Mr. Kyle before making a beeline for the large black piano. I sat on the plush red velvet seat and let my fingers weave through the fabric for a few seconds, taking the time to choose which song I was going to play.
I let go of the fabric to hover my fingers over the piano. Closing my eyes, I imagined my fingers moving, flying beautifully over the keys, creating a melody, the song I had heard this morning on the radio.
As I imagined, my eyes closed, I played. The room filled with music, the chatter from students trickling in fading away, along with all the noises. All there was was the piano, the melody, and the keys.
I played for what felt like hours, but couldn't have been more than a few minutes. I didn't feel the cramps in my fingers or the small smile on my lips. All I felt was the keys and my fingers floating over them, the melody they were creating. It was beautiful. How could I leave this place, when something as beautiful as this existed?
Once I had finished the song, I sat there, simply breathing. My fingers hovered over the keys, I was about to start a new song before a hand came down on my shoulder.
"Hey, sorry about that, but we're starting lessons." I turned towards the voice to see a boy I had never met before.
The boy had dirty blond, almost brown straight hair sticking out in all directions. His green eyes were narrowed, eyebrows scrunched up in confusion as he stared at me.
I tilted my head to the side, silently asking what the matter was. He blinked, then smiled genuinely at me. "Class is starting soon, you should come sit." He paused. "And by the way, you play very beautiful, that was beautiful. I mean, your talent is beautiful."
I nodded, blushing slightly, but didn't smile back. Again, the boy hesitated, seeming self-conscious.
"Anyway, y name is Jasper, it's nice to meet you." He held his hand out, and I shook it, nodding my head in greeting.
He frowned, so I pointed to my throat, feeling bad for his confusion. His eyes lit up in understanding and I felt relief.
"You can't talk?" I nodded again, and he seemed to have relaxed too. "Alright, but class is starting, we should go sit down."
I got up and, instead of following, went to the other end of the room and sat down alone in the corner, not looking back.
Once the day was over, I made my way back to the music room, just catching Mr. Kyle as he was about to leave. He smiled and let me in, finishing packing his stuff.
"Just make sure to lock up when you're done, Caroline. Have a nice day," he said as he walked out the door. I nodded slightly, making my way over to the piano, not looking back at him.
As I sat down, the silence in the room was too deafening to ignore. So I played.
And this time, I sang.
I played a few high notes with one hand, then switched to two.
Then, I started singing softly: "Like a small boat, on the ocean, sending big waves into motion. Like how a single word, can make a heart open. I might only have one match, but I'll make an explosion..."
I brought more power into my voice, letting my anger seep through just a bit. "And all those things I didn't say, wrecking balls inside my brain, I will scream them loud tonight."
I grinned. "Can you hear my voice this time?"
I clenched my teeth, trying not to cry, trying to stay angry as I sang the chorus, trying to keep my smile.
Always keep my smile.
"And I don't care of nobody else believes... 'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me."
My fingers slowed down on their own, the tears making it through the barriers I had set up. In a single wave, I lost all the anger I had been holding onto to protect myself. "Losing friends, and I'm chasing sleep. Everybody's worried about me. 'In too deep', they say I'm 'in too deep'...
"It's been three years, I miss my home. There's a fire burning in my bones..."
I sang the bridge and the chorus again, relieved that some of my anger was coming back. I felt safe behind my anger as my fingers flew over the keys, not missing a beat.
Once the end of the song neared, I considered looping back around and starting over, but it felt wrong for this one. So I finished in a soft, tired voice.
"Like a small boat, on the ocean, sending big waves into motion... Like how a single word can make a heart open...
"I might only have one match, but I can make an explosion..."
And then I burst into tears. And laughed.
I'm a mess.
I hated crying. Hated it. I instantly felt anxious, paranoid that someone was going to see me in my weakened state.
"Hey, are you okay?
Paranoia? More like of fucking course.
I stiffened at the voice, clutching the edges of the piano with both hands.
Had he heard me sing?
Of course he had. I have never been that fortunate.
I slowly turned my head towards the door to see someone I had never seen before. He was leaning against the doorway, straight black hair sweeping over his brown eyes as he tilted his head to the side. He seemed of Asian descent, and he was leaner than the guy I had met earlier; Jake, was it? I wondered what his name was, but didn't ask.
I nodded my head, turning back towards the piano to hide the blush appearing from how horribly shy I was about my voice.
"You don't look it."
I sighed, bowing my head, not responding.
I heard him walk over, then speak up again. "Do you want a hug?"
I nodded my head slowly. He sat down next to me, scooted closer, and wrapped his arms around me, holding me tightly. He gives good hugs.
After a few seconds, I hugged him back, letting my body relax.
I hadn't let it relax like this for three years.
Sources used:
• Fight Song by Rachel Platten
ns 15.158.61.42da2
