The Story You Don't Know

12 April 2016, Tuesday

These days, without him, my days have been darker than ever. It feels depressing, having people in such close vicinity of me and yet always feeling lonely and empty inside. The only thing that fills me is music.

I've been writing a lot. Just as I'm writing this, the floor of my room is strewn with manuscripts of my compositions, transcriptions of songs I heard and liked the sound of. I want to compose a complete song.

There's a song I think I've heard before that's on the tip of my tongue, but I can't quite recall. I'd have part of a melody, try to fit something else in and just know it doesn't work. I want the right hand to have a charming yet haunting lilt to it, but I can't quite perfect it even though it feels like I've tried every possible key combination that I can think of.

Everyday, I can feel my piano calling me, as if imploring me to write that song. It feels as if this song is a secret for me to uncover - my secret. It's a work in progress, I guess. I want this song to be my masterpiece.

A lot of my time is spent on the piano nowadays. I wish I could say this helps me forget, but with every note I play, I'm still thinking - thinking back on all the things that have happened in my life. I'm trying to figure out where it all started.

It used to be harmless teasing and name-calling, back and forth between me and my friends. We were ten and innocent. And then one day, Ivan, a big chubby boy who was my classmate at the time, came up with a name that we shall not name. After school, he ran around calling me names while I chased him and threw insults back. Harmless playing, I thought. Little did I know it would be the last carefree day I had for some time.

The next day, I realized he'd propagandized this name to our entire year as well as our seniors. He was also spreading his hatred for me like a campaign. "We all hate you, Avery." He declared the moment I walked into class. "Everyone who hates Avery, raise their hands!" And I watched, with a shattering heart, as every single person in the room who I'd considered a friend raised their hands.

That day, I ran to the toilet to hide and cried my heart out. And that was the start of hell for me.

"Why do you hate me?" I asked him one day. I needed to know.

"You always steal top position in class. The teachers all favour you - it's unfair," he glared at me.

Ten-year-old me found it hard to accept this. I'd always studied, but only because my parents made me revise everyday. During exam season, while everyone buried their noses in textbooks, I secretly read my fantasy stories. hiding them under my desk. In the exam itself, after I was done, I'd sleep or secretly play with my friends, throwing erasers or plasticine around the room in a secret game of catch when the teachers weren't watching.

I guess I was considered a smart kid, but I didn't mean to 'steal' first place from him. All I wanted, at that age, was to get good grades to please my parents and have fun when I could. I also never s.u.c.k.e.d up, never chose to be the teachers' pet. It was unfair for me too.

Everywhere I went, people sniggered or shouted the name-that-we-shall-not-name at me. I felt like a caged beast in a zoo, just there for others' amus.e.m.e.nt. Point your fingers and keep calling me names, I thought, keep laughing. I planned to ignore them.

However, inevitably, this meant I would have to ignore just about everyone. Outside of my tiny social circle of 3 friends - Brooke, Amelia and Rachel, I talked to no one. It didn't stop, not for the next three years.

Eventually, I learnt to keep my eyes downcast, hide behind my hair to attract less attention. I learnt to put up a carefree front, as if their words could never touch me. And I put up walls around me. I vowed never to trust anyone ever again, so I'd never, ever experience this betrayal again.

-

"Kalen, you came back!" The way her eyes lit up when she saw him made his heart pound.

Then she paused, eyes dimming. She looked away, avoiding his gaze like she did everytime she wanted to hide her feelings from people. "I wish you would stop giving me hope and then disappearing. And now you're back again, giving me something to look forward to again. I hate this rollercoaster ride." He didn't need to see her face to hear the restrained tears in her quivering voice. His heart clenched.

In two strides, he reached the side of the bed. He caught her slender face in one hand, coaxing her to meet his eyes. "Avery look at me," he said quietly. He could feel her pulse quicken and body temperature rise ever so slightly under his s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e fingertips as she stared at him with wide glistening eyes. He wanted to comfort her, but an obvious question he wanted an answer to surfaced in his mind. "Avery, do you like me?"

She blinked in surprise. "Umm.."

He felt the heat rising to her face, and that was all he needed to know. He leaned forward and gave her a peck on the forehead, the way he'd seen humans do. "I like you, Avery."

She froze eyes widening. So pure and naive. Tentatively, she reached out and wrapped her arms around his waist, as if afraid he would disappear again. "Will you stay?" she asked, looking up at him.

Would he be able to? "I won't leave," he assured her. Was that a lie?

And despite the demon's words resounding in his head, he put her to sleep, stroking her hair as he watched the peaceful rise and fall of her breath, only leaving when the sun began to peek through the curtains.