She Who Cannot Speak

When she opened the dark wooded doors, she expected to see a room filled to the brim with people with their chins high in the air, their bodies seated in the comfortable plush red chairs and their attention turned towards the stage.

But what she saw was nothing, and felt the ghostly warmth of their bodies as she trailed down the carpeted steps, to her kingdom; the stage.

On her body were two layers of oversized coats that draped down to the back of her legs. Skinny jeans hugged her legs tightly, revealing that she was nothing but skin and bones and her neck was swallowed by the several plain scarves others had donated to her out of sorrow.

She was homeless and had to bite down on the harsh winter of the streets.

Over her hands were torn gloves that she found in a trash bin which did no justice to the frostbite that nibbled on her fingertips but it eased the pain.

To top off her peculiar look, was a black beanie with a pom pom and sunglasses that lay on the top of her head.

She grinned in awe as her head twisted and turned, gleaming up at the chandelier lights that glowered at her ugliness in such a beautiful place.

It was like a palace and every few steps down, she would gleam behind her. Making sure no one was around before turning her attention back to the stage that called her name.

The stage was pristine, paneled with light oak wood, and held dark velvet curtains that were as tall as trees at its side.

Near the front of the stage, a Vennia Westwood Piano sat crooked facing the audience. Its color mimicked her soul, black.

A smile pressed on her face.

It had been two years since she had laid eyes on such a beautiful instrument. One that cried her sorrows and bellowed her laughs.

And it was the only thing left on the stage after the recital she sadly missed by forty minutes.

Her body made it to the front and she slid over to the small staircase off to the left, her small hands caressing the cold steel rail.

Slowly she made it up the steps and when she took the last step, she couldn’t contain her happiness.

She practically pranced over to the piano, trying to think of what to play.

Beethoven?

Mozart?

Brahms?

All the variations of music she could play within just a couple of minutes tingled her fingertips as she sat down on the piano bench and ran her dirty fingers over the pearly white keys.

Without hesitation, she pressed down on A key and it was then, she felt it. Her past became alive, causing emotions to swirl inside her heart and twist her stomach, making her feel sick.

But she swallowed the pain, the hatred, and began to play a song that screamed her wrath towards the very person who caused her so much pain and that had made her a flower in the attic.

Although it wasn't her fault for what happened, she still felt the blame.

It happened many years ago when she was just a child with no grasp on the reins of life.

But now she is an adult and the vendetta held on strong like a noose around her neck.

Tears streamed down her face, collecting the dirt and grime that was stuck to her skin, landing on the keys that were vigorously pounded on by her fingers.

She was so focused on letting her emotions enter through the music, she didn't notice the demons lurking against the cream-colored walls in between the white pillars.

Their shadowed bodies climbed from the floor with their elongated limbs and small skeleton bodies. Their bright oval white eyes focused on her.

“Eita git...Eita….git….!” their voices whispered. Found her….Found…her…!

Standing by the wooden doors were three janitors; two males and one female, dressed in a dark blue jumpsuits with smiles on their faces.

Their eyes pressed against her body that swayed side to side with the music she played. Each of them questioned who she was and how did she get in?

The Helen Theater should have been off-limits since the recital finished and perhaps, it was just an oversight on their part.

And they were happy about that.

Suddenly, they heard the rusty gold-framed doors open from down the great hall that was decorated with paintings of the greatest musicians the school had ever produced.

Their attention slowly turned from she who played, to he who set off your fight or flight responses. A true devil who walked within the vessel of a fine-looking human.

With each step he took, his long blonde hair flowed off his broad shoulders that carried a soft white scarf on top of a black suit. Embroidered on the ends of the scarf were his initials; A.W.

His ears tuned into the playing of the piano and he ignored the questioning of the janitors who wondered why he was back.

He should be at home by now. Relaxing beside a fire, trying to get away from the cold and death.

But here he was.

Desperately clawing his way into the theater to get a look at who was playing the chaotic music filled with agony and overflowing with sadness.

It brought him back to the days of his childhood that he did not care to remember for there was only one word that would describe those days.

“Vengeance.”

The minute he stepped into the theater the song was at full climax. Slowly he descended, his eyes glued to the ragged figure playing the piano.

His grave expression was brushed off by a smile.

He was thankful that he turned around but realized he had forgotten something important.

It was a small torn piece of paper that fell from his pocket and he contemplated coming back for it. But now he was glad he did.

Gently her song dwindled to the last stroke of the keys and he began to clap. His clap echoed within the empty theater and her jade-green eyes shot over to him.

“Bravo!” he shouted with a grin.

Her body, shaken by fear, immediately stood up knocking the black bench over.

With an inhale, she quickly stepped away from the piano. Ready to run away.

“Wait! Please don’t go! I need to speak with you.” He sternly said and she felt her body curl inside.

She hated being seen with anyone...Human that is. And that was when she remembered the sunglasses.

Quickly she slipped them over her eyes as the tall scary man with fiery eyes climbed up the steps and over to her.

He chuckled when he noticed her arms were slightly raised and pressed against her body. She gave off the impression that she was just a small child underneath those clothes who was about to get scolded by her parents.

“Don’t be afraid...I’m not going to hurt you.” he inhaled, “I just wanted to tell you that you have remarkable talent! One of the best I’ve seen in years as a conductor.”

He eyed her reaction. She didn’t budge anymore or any less but he made sure to keep a safe distance to make her comfortable.

“My name is Ares Winter. I am the conductor here at the School of Sound.” he reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a card, “How would you like a chance to play professionally and attend one of the third-best music schools in the nation; Marchesi University?”

Unexpectedly, she waved both of her hands in front of her chest, shaking her head as she did before transitioning.

She raised her right hand and pressed the tips of her fingers against her chin. Ares watched as she continued to move her hands in front of her body; attempting to explain that she couldn’t do such a thing. She was not worthy enough.

His eyes widened in astonishment. He had only seen those movements before in some movies.

She was speaking sign language.

“You can’t speak...can you?” He stepped closer and she shook her head no.

“Interesting. Are you willing to accept my offer?”

She shook her head again.

“Then please, take my card. It has my number on there. If you ever change your mind, call me.” He held the card out to her.

Hesitantly, she shuffled herself close enough to him to receive the card. But once she did, she bolted to the other side of the stage.

He watched as her body ran up the carpeted stairs and disappear through the wooden doors. He crossed his fingers, hoping that perhaps she could be the one to fulfill a promise he had made.

On the other side of the doors, she continued to run down the great hall.

She felt the eyes of the paintings stare down at her as if she was an intruder.

Half-heartedly, she regretted coming here. He could have noticed and so could the janitors standing in the hall.

She pushed open the golden framed door and out into the cold night, she went.

Her breath instantly turned into a giant white cloud and it was then, she noticed she had been sweating within the copious amounts of clothes while in the theater and this made her even colder.

She glanced at the card she held tightly between her fingers and traced the golden writing of Ares’s name with her eyes.

How pretty it looked.

Just like her mother’s handwriting when she was young.

She smiled, sliding the card into her coat pocket.

She couldn’t wait to tell the Jazz Man about this.

**************

A/N

I’m so happy that this story will be published :) Hope you all enjoy it!