Page 55 of Heart Sick

The slight flaring of her nostrils reveals she’s not pleased with this arrangement. But we don’t have a deal otherwise.

“What is it about her?” she asks, studying me closely.

“I don’t know,” I confess honestly. “I just know that when she’s close to me, everything feels…better.”

“Your heart too?”

“Yes. It’s the only time it feels like it’s my heart as well.”

She writes something down in her notepad. “Would you be willing to try something?”

“If it gets me the hell out of here, then yes.”

She closes her notepad and places the pen in her high bun as if not to forget it. I watch as she stands and wheels over a wheelchair. “If I untie you, you promise to do what you’re told?”

“I’ll try my best.”

That’s hardly comforting, but Alanna unfastens my restraints as whatever she has planned is clearly important to her. She pulls back the gray blanket, and I wonder if my legs will work. It takes a moment for my brain and body to connect, but eventually, my legs do what they’re told as I swing them over the edge of the bed and place them on the cold floor.

I take in two deep breaths before lifting myself off the thin mattress and carefully sit in the wheelchair.

Alanna arranges a blanket over my legs, and I hate that I feel nothing but like an invalid. If I had the choice again, I would have never answered her call. But here I am, being wheeled from this asylum infirmary, at the mercy of my doctor.

The hallowed echoes inside my head confirm that the music hasn’t returned. I am still musically crippled. A part of me is missing, and I don’t know how to get it back.

The corridor is quiet; the occasional moan or cry for help is heard. Alanna wheels me into a room I’ve never seen before. I would have remembered if I had because of the grand fucking piano sitting dead center.

The moment I see it, his heart stirs in interest. It’s the first time I remember this happening.

Alanna is quiet as she wheels me over to the piano and positions me so I can play in the chair. But I shake my head. “I won’t play confined.”

I don’t wait for her response as I kick off the blanket and stand. It’s probably my very fragile mind playing tricks on me, but I suddenly feel stronger. I inhale deeply and close my eyes. Underneath the sterility, I smell polish and wood.

This would usually be the time I leave this world and make my own in a universe built solely for me. But the white noise suffocates me.

“Take your time,” Alanna softly encourages.

I’m not a fucking wimp, so I open my eyes and take in the beautiful creation in front of me. I’m not a piano snob. As long as she sounds good, I’ll play, but this piano is expensive. And that surprises me.

Parkfields doesn’t exactly spend lavishly on the essentials such as food or soap, so to have this here is a mystery. And that has me wanting to play all the more.

I run my fingertip over the closed fallboard. My dick instantly gets hard. I pull back the stool and take a seat. I don’t do anything. I just sit. The sense of peace which overwhelms me angers the voices inside my head because they need chaos to survive.

But as I lift the fallboard, revealing the keyboard, everything fades into nothingness. The black and white keys speak to me in morse code. I place my fingers on them and exhale slowly. This would be the time music floods my brain and I play without thought.

But as expected, I hear nothing…but the deafening sound of his heart dragging his ass in my chest cavity.

“What do you feel?” Alanna asks, and I almost forgot she was here.

“I feel…nothing.”

I close my eyes and wade through the darkness to reach the other side. Sweat collects along my brow as I desperately try to remember…anything.

“How do you know that?” Mom asks me—a six-year-old me who simply shrugs as I run my fingers over the toy piano she bought at a yard sale and start playing ‘Amazing Grace.’

“Your son is a prodigy.”

“Your son is a freak.”

---