Page 2 of Fractured Souls

I come out of my daydream when Mother hisses in my ear, “Focus! You need to win this, or you will not like the consequences. Get out there now!”

I sigh. That daydream was just that: a dream. The reality is, I'm walking on stage, back straight, arms at my side, the widest, fakest smile on my face, pretending I'm happy and not in pain. When in reality, my ribs are killing me from Mother kicking the shit out of them yesterday when I told her there was no way I could play in a competition today when I haven't played piano in three years. All because I've been locked away in Mother’s basement.

I know this might all seem confusing, but Mother isn't actually my mother. But we’ll get back to that later. Anyways, back to what I was saying, she gave me no choice. She told me I'd play, and that's the end of it. She did let me look up the song I knew I could play on the computer and listen to it… once. So, here's to hoping for the best.

I am terrified as I sit down on the bench. Only having listened to the song once, it's just really not enough, but I try to channel my mom and everything she has taught me. I used to play this song with her. I know I can do it. I inhale, then exhale. I let my fingers guide me through the song, muscle memory coming back as I play for the first time in so long. This is a competition between high schools. I still don't know how Mother got me in since I haven't been to school since I was thirteen.

As I play, I can see them watching me out of the corner of my eye. Father looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, and sister glares at me like I’ve ruined her entire life. Well, according to her, I basically did. Mother is offstage behind me, and I swear I can feel her stare burning a hole into the back of my head.

The warning is clear. If I mess up and don't win, she will follow through on those consequences. I try to push them out of my mind and just find the peace a piano can bring me.

Today is my solo performance where I play to compete for $10,000. However, if I win, I will never see that money. Despite the fancy dress I am wearing, which actually belongs to Mother, I have nothing.

Three years ago, my real mom was murdered. I saw most of it. But I was able to escape, not without scars, both inside and outside of my body, but I walked away with my life and my mom didn't. Just thinking about that time sends a cold chill down my spine. I have so many questions about that day, and no one to give me answers. I can't help but let my mind wander sometimes to the dark places of what if… and who were the people that killed her?

After I lost my mom, I woke up in the hospital two weeks later with a strange woman standing beside my bed. Turns out she is my mom's sister, my Aunt Tammy. After losing my mom, who I thought was the only family I had, I was beyond relieved to see my aunt. To see family, to see someone who I thought would’ve looked like my mom, someone who could give me a mom hug and tell me it's all going to be okay just like my mom used to do. Except, I never got that hug. I was never told it would be okay. I never even got to cry as someone held me while I grieved my mom.

That day three years ago when I woke up in the hospital turned out to be my last day of freedom, and the last hug I'd receive was from a nurse who had sat with me every day while I was unconscious.

That day, I learned that people are not always what they seem on the outside. Mother is outwardly perfect. Her mid-length auburn hair is absolutely perfect. Never a hair out of place. She dresses in beautifully tailored clothing. She’d never be seen in wrinkled clothes. But inside, she is the ugliest person there is.

Mother had come down and sent me up to the guest bath early this morning and told me to make myself not look like shit. She had a green floor-length dress and flats, along with hair products, a brush, and stuff in the shower for me to use.

I had gone to shut the door, but Father stopped me and stood at the door watching me do everything… He never says anything. But if I am upstairs, he watches me. Luckily, I was able to step into the shower and pull the curtain closed before taking off my clothes, so he never saw me naked. I had half expected him to rip it open, but he didn't. Even as I took the fastest shower I could, he never looked in. But when I got out, he was still just standing there, his dark brown eyes zoned in on me.

As my solo comes to an end with the last note of Song From A Secret Garden - Piano Solo Version, the audience cheers and claps. I lace my fingers together in front of me to stop the shaking. My head throbs from the noise and having so many people’s eyes on me.

Being locked away for so long really changes things when you are out in public again. I walk off the stage, making my way to Mother. She looks beautiful, with a bright smile on her perfectly caked face. A face I wish I could claw to shreds. I see behind that bright smile; I see the demons lurking there. The ones waiting to come out and destroy me for whatever it is she seems to think I have done wrong now.

The concert ends an hour later. I spent the whole time enjoying the sound of a piano again. God, I didn't realize how much I had missed just hearing someone play the piano. It's like finding my way home again, to a time before my life got destroyed and went to hell. When I close my eyes, I'm back home playing piano with my mom while she sings along to whatever we are playing, or she dances around the piano as I play. I feel my lips tilt up at that memory.

Mother nudges me hard. “Whatever you are thinking about doing, don't. You won't get far. I will destroy you.”

And there goes that happy thought. I stop smiling and open my eyes but stare straight ahead, not even looking at Mother to acknowledge her, which I'm sure I'll pay for later.

Luckily those who participated in the competition are called back on stage so I can get a tiny reprieve from Mother Dearest. Me and five others head up to the stage. As much as I don't want to win this money, since I know Mother will take it for herself, I know if I don't, the following weeks won't be pretty. On the other hand, my real mom and I shared a bond through playing piano, and she is the one who wanted me to play in every competition there was. I remember my mom signing me up years ago, but she said the waitlist for it is crazy and apparently, I got in now but not as who I was. As Harley Wilson. So many questions…. so many fucking questions I'll never get the answers to.

I'd like to think she would be beyond proud of me for doing this. My fingers itch to touch my scar on my face running from below my right eye across my cheek through my lip and ending on my chin. I don't dare, though, knowing Mother’s and Father’s eyes are on me. I zone back into the director's speech as it's coming to an end.

“...And we thank each of you for competing, but unfortunately there can only be one winner. The winner of the Allstar Competition of 2018 is… Harley Wilson!”

For a split second, I forget how horrible my life is and just remember the feeling of winning something. Of people clapping and cheering for me. The fact that I won! I haven't even played in so long but yet it all just came back to me. I have to think it's my mom who helped me with today. Watching over me from heaven. That moment is short-lived as we all walk offstage, and Mother is waiting there with a smug grin on her face that I'd love to slap off of her. Maybe one day, I'll get to.

The second we pile into the car, Mother rips the check from my hands and with a snarl says, "At least you did something right for once.” Honestly? It's a compliment coming from her.

“Thank you, Mother,” I say, trying not to add an eyeroll. The bitch always wants to be thanked as if she did something good by opening her mouth. The woman currently sitting in front of me in the car will never even compare to my mom. But calling her Mother is better than what would happen if I refused. Trust me, I’ve tried.

* * *

3 Years Ago

As we leave the hospital two days after I wake up, I feel uneasy. My aunt has been quiet and seems to just stare at me unless someone else comes into the room; then she smiles and is a bubbly, kind person.

I tried talking to her about my mom, but she shuts me down and just keeps saying, "Now is not the time." I don't understand why now isn't the time. My mom is dead. I feel so lost. But Tammy seems just fine and not bothered. I haven't even seen her shed a single tear. But also, my mom never mentioned any family. This whole thing is so confusing. I just want my mom.

Once we get out to the car, she leads me around to the trunk where we are blocked from anyone seeing us. Then she grabs my hair hard and yanks me back before shoving me against the car.

Completely stunned with tears stinging my eyes, I reach for her arm that is gripping my hair and try to pull it away, but she only further tightens her grasp. I let out a yelp of pain, and she shoves me harder into the car. Then her hauntingly dead voice speaks low in my ear, and I freeze.

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