Page 89 of Echoes of a Silent Song
“I wouldn’t be in this mess,” he said, his jaw tight, “if it weren’t for your harebrained idea to give me your piece.Now you have no choice.You owe me.”
I got him out of being drafted, andIowedhim?“What exactly do I owe you?”
“Your music notebook.”
The words were a knife to my chest.“Absolutely not.”
“It’s only fair.”
“Fair?”My voice sounded shrill.“What, exactly, is fair about me giving you my very best work, the very best of me, and then realizing you only wanted what I could do for you?You never loved me, Victor.You never even cared about me.”
He looked wounded, but his expression took longer to lock into place than a genuine one should have.“Iris, where is this coming from?I’m hurt.I’m genuinely hurt that you’d think that about me.”
He wasn’t denying it.He was just saying he was hurt.
Once again he’d made it all about him.
“Those pills must be doing a number on you,” he scoffed.“The Iris I know would never be so cruel.”
His accusation stung, but I pressed on.“The Iris you know was a weak little girl who had no idea she had actual talent, and now that she does know, she’s going after what’s rightfully hers.”
He laughed.“Oh, really?And how do you plan to do that, exactly?”
I folded my arms and met his cold-fish eyes.“I’m going to tell Whitehall what we did.”
He didn’t even blink.“No one’s going to believe you.Think for just a second about how crazy this sounds.‘Hi, I wrote a piece that got rejected—but this other piece, the one that’s so brilliant you had to write a personal note about it?Yeah, I wrote that one too, except it just so happens to have my boyfriend’s name on it.’”
When he put it like that, it did sound a little crazy.Couldn’t let him know that, though.I put on my bravest face.“I’ll never know unless I try.”
“And you’ll forever be branded as someone nobody can believe.Iris, you’re mentally ill.So much so that you need medication.”
“I’m not taking it anymore.”
“And there’s the problem.Right there.”Victor’s voice was calm.Soothing, almost.“Iris, you need help.And the worst part is that the problem is in your mind.”He tapped my forehead.“Your brain doesn’t work right.The doctor said so himself.But because your mind doesn’t work right, you can’t see how crazy you sound right now.”
No ...wait ...I went off the medication because I thought it made me paranoid.I felt clearer now that I’d stopped taking it, yet Victor seemed just as conniving.Manipulative.He ...he was probably manipulating me right now.
Or was it my brain that lied to me?
“Go home, Iris.”He swept a lock of hair off my forehead, his touch as light and sweet as cotton candy.“Go home and take your medication.You’ll feel a lot better once you do.Trust me.”
Trust him?I couldn’t do that.Not anymore.But I wasn’t sure I could trust myself either.
“This’ll all be better in the morning.”He brushed his lips against my cheek.“You’re lucky I’m the forgiving sort.”
“Forgiving?”I stepped back.“But I don’t need you to forgive me.Because I’m not apologizing.I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Sweet little crazy Iris.”His expression seemed almost paternal.“Please go home and take your medicine.”
I nodded slowly, an idea forming.“You’re right, Victor.Of course you’re right.I ...I don’t know what I was thinking.I’m not in my right mind.”
He smiled.“There you go.See?A couple of those pills and it’ll all be better in the morning.”
“Would you get my jacket?”My voice was honey-sweet.“I think it’s on the hook by the front door.”
“Of course.”
The moment he left the room, I swept my music notebook off the desk and stuffed it into my bag, along with the rest of my homework.Then I headed down the hall to the living room, where he waited for me, my jacket in hand.
