Page 24 of Late Nights & Love Lines
I’m about to enter my room when I hear the softest whimper and sniffle coming from Seren’s room down the hall, and my stomach twists into a knot.
Reminding myself that this is temporary does nothing to squash the heartache that burns at the sound of her pain. Moving quickly into the room, I set my shower caddy on the desk, and the sight of the journal I’d given Seren catches my attention on the corner of my bed.
A beautiful guitar graces the cover. I open it and am not the least bit shocked by what she’s written.
I hate you. I don’t need a nanny. I don’t need anyone. Just leave me alone.
The pain she’s suffering is parallel to my own life. Different situations, but it hurts the same.
Taking my pen from the nightstand, I go back to the hallway and sit outside her room, then flip the notebook over to a fresh page.
I was ten when my dad died, eight when he got sick.
Shit. Am I really going to do this? I’ve never talked about this with anyone. Seren sniffles, and my hand glides across the paper. I’ll do whatever it takes to help her through this. It’s why I went to school for music therapy—if only I’d been able to stay in one place, I could have put it to better use.
At least the hotline still allows me to help.
The need to help a child in pain is a living, breathing part of my makeup with no off button, and it’s why my pen glides across the paper almost as fast as I can think.
Pappy’s camp was important to my dad. He loved music too, that’s why I’d gone. And why he left money in his will for me to keep going as long as I wanted.
My stepfather had other plans though.
When I was twelve, my mom remarried. Suddenly I had a new dad, and a stepsister. If you look up the name Haley Ford in the dictionary, you’ll really see what the devil looks like.
She wanted everything, and she got everything.
My room. My piano. My life.
But she didn’t have my camp. It’s what I waited for all year. It made all their terrible treatment and punishments worth it.
They came to the camp recital when I was thirteen. The one where I played that song your dad sang pieces of to you. I had my first-ever panic attack before I even started playing, and your dad came to my rescue. He sat with me while I faced my stage fright, my family’s glares, and began to play.
I got lost in the song.
I didn’t hear Haley screaming at her dad to make me stop.
I didn’t hear him approach, or when he scolded me for embarrassing him in front of strangers.
But I felt it when he ripped me away from the piano with such force that my feet left the ground. They removed me from camp that day, they took away my music, and my life changed forever.
My mother never stepped in. Not once.
I know how much it hurts to be let down by someone who is supposed to love you.
For me, things went from bad to worse, and I did what I had to survive. My only regret is that I allowed them to silence the music in my heart—even temporarily.
Don’t let that happen to you. You have a family who loves you and will support you always, so lose yourselfin your art, not your anger. Express all those big feelings through music because you deserve to be heard. You’re allowed to tell the world how you feel.
You’re too special to allow someone else’s mistakes to rob you of your gift, and what you have is a gift. Don’t waste it because someone was too blind to see it for what it is.
XO,
Rowan
Closing the book, I knock quietly and enter after a few beats of silence.
The room is pale pink with light gray accents. It’s exactly what I would picture for a princess. Music notes decorate the walls, and a guitar sits in the corner with broken strings.
