Page 100 of Serenade Me

Chapter Thirty-seven

Anca

I wonder all the time what my mother and father thought about in that split second before their car accident, what they were doing. Was my mother smiling at my father as she teased him about the way he was dressed or was he growling at the way the car smelled too much like lavender, her scent.

Did they have that luxury, knowing that it would all be over for them soon? Or in those last moments, were they still thinking that the years lay far ahead of them, to be with each other, with Jez and me?

I just know that now, faced with the very real possibility of it all being taken away, I’m thinking of them. Of them, of Jez, and of Marius.

There’s no fear.

Just sadness.

For their sadness.

“So, are you ready to play now, Anca? Or are you going to tell me what your request it? We don’t have much time. We must be going from here soon, it’s not safe.” He emphasizes the last word, and the sharp point of his weapon, digs deeper into my skin, threatening to break it.

I can’t help but gasp. It doesn’t hurt… yet. But the anticipation is just as intense.

“Y-yes. Let my legs free, please. I can’t play without reaching the pedals. It’s just not complete, and I won’t play if it’s not perfect. It’s been so long since I played for you, I don’t want to play if it’s not perfect.”

My voice is soft, I’m trying to keep it calm, even as my mind races about how to execute my next step.

“Fine, Anca. I will do as you ask. But don’t get any ideas, it’s better for you to just stay with me. I’ll take care of you from now on.”

It’s hard to keep my mouth from lifting into a sneer at his words. How had I fallen for this before? How stupid could I have been?

“Yes, Maestro. I just want to be free to be with you.”

If he can spout off ridiculous words then so can I.

I feel his fingers fumbling at my feet, and the feel of something pulling, like rope, and then it breaks. Cut by something sharp. It’s hard not to focus on the fact that it’s probably the knife that he had poised at the nape of my neck.

I shuffle my legs, just to test their movement. They’re free. I’m free.

“Play now, Anca.”

I lift my hands and take a breath. And then I play.

Play like it’s the last thing I’ll ever do. Play like my life depends on it. Play to release every pain and regret from my body, and welcome in nothing but the absolute joy of playing. And play… to call them to me. Marius! Jez! Come find me, I am here.

“STOP!! STOP! Anca! What is this rubbish! STOP!” He yells and the sound threatens to halt me, but I don’t stop.

“NO! No, this is NOT what you should be playing! NO!”

I feel him looming closer and hold my breath, waiting for the right moment.

My fingers fly over the strings, plucking each note with deliberation and purpose.

“This is what I play now, Maestro! This is my music! You’ve never heard of it? It’s called Beautiful, by Christina Aguilera. It’s a very famous song!” I shout out into the darkness.

“You talentless fool!” He spits out and I feel his fingers wrap around mine, pulling them from the harp.

Now! My mind yells and I kick out with my legs as hard as I can. Kick! Kick! Kick! Each one making contact- some with wood and some with leg. Flashes of pain run up my foot and shin but I ignore them as I rip my hand away from his and push myself up from the stool, reaching for the scarf around my eyes as I run, blindly away.

“No!” I hear him growl and his hand grabs my leg, pulling me to the ground before I can free my eyes.

“Ugh,” I grunt, the wind slammed out of me. I drag air back into my lungs. Breathe, Anca breathe, remember… I never stop hearing him tell me. “Let me go!” I yell, kicking frantically, hoping just to tear my foot free of him.