Page 90 of Heart Sick

The music builds, evoking emotions in me which I can’t control.

I feel happiness.

Sadness.

I feel love.

I’m transported to Dutch’s world, and I never want to leave.

He bends the notes to his demands, his fingers almost too fast to see. It’s effortless for him. This is where he feels at home. I wonder what happened for him to hear the music once again.

When the melody slows and the upbeat tempo is replaced with heaviness, I slide across a pew and sit. Dutch’s head is bowed, his dirty blond hair shielding his face. He’s beautiful, and that’s when an epiphany hits—I love him.

I love Dutch with my entire heart and soul. It doesn’t make sense because he’s nothing but a stranger to me, but I know there’s more to this, and I plan on uncovering what that is.

The notes slow, a sickened beat which suddenly is reflective of a broken heart barely beating. Tears swell, and I allow them to fall because I know this is the end.

I just don’t know what happens once he plays the final note.

Dutch’s fingers punish the keys with a delicate wound, and when the piece of music erupts into chaos, I realize this is his life in music. An echo of his journey that no words could ever explain. It’s gruesome and raw—it’s a masterpiece.

It suddenly ends, cutting me off from a world that I never want to leave.

Dutch is breathless, taking a moment to return from wherever he went.

“It’s not finished,” he says. “But each section was written in my head when I was with you. I didn’t know what it was at the time, just notes floating in white noise. But each time I’m with you, Luna, it feeds the silence, and I can play.”

I don’t know what to say.

He finally lifts his chin and locks eyes with me. I die a thousand deaths.

“Come here.”

I don’t even think twice as I stand and make my way toward him. The air sparks with an undercurrent which is sure to burn us alive. I don’t know who lunges for who first, but our mouths, our bodies soon become one.

We kiss one another with fire and passion as I wrap myself around him, but it’s still not close enough. I know change is on the horizon, and I’m afraid. I can’t help but feel this is the end for us.

Tears spill down my cheeks, flavoring our union with a salty kiss.

Dutch pulls away, only to lick at the tears on my cheek, like he wants to make my pain his own. It only has me wanting him all the more.

He walks me toward the altar, and when my back hits the marbled slab, he spins me around. He coaxes me to lean over. I go willingly, anticipating what he has planned.

He lifts the hem of my dress, running his hand over my ass. “I don’t think I’ll ever finish that song,” he reveals, sliding his hand to the front of my underwear.

He commences rubbing over my sex while I bite my cheek to smother my moan.

“And that’s because I don’t want our story to ever end. To compose, I need pain. I use it to feed the depravity inside me. I think that’s why I couldn’t hear the music when I woke up. I was fixed.”

He scoffs, apparent that he doesn’t believe there’s such a thing.

“A new heart meant I could do all the things I couldn’t before. I could live a normal life. But now I see, I don’t want normal. I never did. The danger to living is what drove me to write. Knowing that each beat of my heart could be my last is what pushed me to compose my best piece of music before I ran out of time.

“But when that was taken away, I didn’t see the point of urgency because I had my whole miserable life ahead of me. But I don’t want that. Maybe I’m just one fucked-up, tortured artist who needs chaos to survive.”

He slips his hand inside my underwear, setting my body alight when he sinks two fingers inside me. He begins moving those wicked fingers with skill that leaves me a breathless mess. My body knows him well and is greedy, always wanting more.

“Music has always been my first love, and I just accepted that I’d never connect with a human the way I do with music. But then I met you.”

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