Page 56 of Heart Sick

The voices get louder and louder, kicking against my temple. But I welcome the pain as I almost double over. The pain is what helps me play.

“I need you to do this for me. For us.”

Who said that?

It’s a voice I don’t recognize.

The pain is replaced with intense sadness, and I don’t know why. I don’t even know whose memory it is.

“If you love me, you’ll do this.”

“I’m short. Can I pay you next week?”

I taste blood.

I can’t breathe.

I see a sign:Woodland Waterfalls.

His heart begins to beat faster, but it’s not a feeling of unease. It’s a feeling of belonging.

And just like that…I hear it.

Music.

It ricochets in my mind and is suddenly an extension of my fingers—just how it once was. I come back to what I know—Moonlight Sonata.

I play with my eyes closed because you don’t see music; you feel it. And that’s the reason I couldn’t play. Because I wasn’t feeling…anything.

I lose myself to the music, and although it’s far from my best, it feels incredible to be able to play again. The fire within burns brighter, hotter, so hot, I’m certain I’ll be set alight.

“Open your eyes…”

It’s the first time I’ve heard his voice, but I know who it is—it’s the owner of my heart. So, without choice, I do as he says and what I see has me slamming my hands onto the keys, a reflection of the heaviness in my chest.

In front of me is a large window which looks into the adjoining room and who’s inside has me realizingshe’sthe reason I was able to play.

I launch up, but Alanna places her hand on my shoulder. “She’s all right. I’ve just prescribed her something to help her sleep. Keep playing.”

My eyes are fixed on Luna, who is strapped to a wheelchair. A belt is secured around her forehead and tied to the headrest to stop her from slouching forward. I don’t want to play. I want to go to her.

But I trust Alanna. She brought Luna here because the doctor in her couldn’t resist. And she was right. Luna is no doubt my muse. It’s the only time I hear music.

I never take my eyes off her. I find my composure and continue playing because this is solely for her.

Each note gets bigger and better. It gets easier. I play for Luna, wishing my music can heal her; wishing it could heal us both.

Her beauty and strength sing to my very soul, and I want her—in every way that I can.

“Help her.”

It’s him again—my annoying passenger. Or am I his?

I’m trying to, I reply in my mind.

I know how crazy it sounds speaking to the voice in your head which belongs to the man’s whose heart gives you life. But this is the first time I’ve felt sane. This is the first time I feel like we’re on the same team.

My fingers ache, but I don’t stop until I play the final note, but when I do, it seems it’s only the beginning.

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