Dark Secrets (Dark Secrets #1)(159)
Author: A.M. Hudson

And that’s the thing about love, really, isn’t it? That there is no replacing the ones we love. I’d never replace David—not even with Mike.

Suddenly, the rise of emotion I should’ve had this morning when I finally admitted David wasn’t coming back, presented itself—screaming out from my heart in the form of a song.

A vibrant, tingling sensation warmed my fingertips; like static electricity before it charges out on something metal.

I jumped up, ignoring the dizziness and narrowed vision of low blood-pressure, and ran for the school.

I needed to play.

The dark room echoed as the door closed behind me and the shadows swallowed me whole. No one looked up; no one turned their heads, because the only sentinel was the pitch black. Everyone was at lunch, the auditorium set for the concert tomorrow night.

I kicked the door ajar a little, placed the doorstop in the crack and hugged myself as I headed down the aisle, walking the path of the thin blue line of light from outside. The warmth of the day remained behind, making me shiver as I reached the stage. I looked back for a moment, seeing only a faint outline of the seats along the aisle, then felt my way up the stairs, keeping my hands out in front of me in case I tripped.

“Ara?”

“H-hello?” I waited in the middle of the stage, hearing nothing. No one whispered back. “Hello? Is anyone there?” My voice stayed low, almost as if I didn’t want an answer.

All around me, the shadows carried eerie secrets, like a person may be lingering within—waiting for me—while the strong feel of being watched crawled over my skin, tightening my pores. I knew I shouldn’t be in here. Knew I should be at lunch, be attending school today like everyone else. I hesitated a moment longer. If I was caught in here, I’d be in trouble.

But, like a beacon of salvation, the piano greeted me with all its glory, sitting majestically centre stage. I took a seat and looked down at my hands on the keys. Here, in front of the piano, I felt narrowed in—safe inside some magical, invisible orb, where no one could see me. For one moment I just needed to sit; just to exist in the space where music was the centre of my world; where the only thing that mattered was the notes, the keys, and me.

My heart was trying to make sense of things—of the fact that David left me because I had that stupid dream, even though I had no control over it. And I guess, in a way, that was the problem; what we dream does have meaning. What we think, feel, desire—it matters. And it hurts.

But life taught me that searching for reasons why it sucks is as futile as screaming out to the heavens “Why, God, why?”

No one will ever answer, because there is no answer. No one is watching from above; no angels are standing by to answer our prayers. We are the authors of our own lives, and what we suffer is due to our own error. How we endure is determined by our will to survive.

I would survive this. I had to stop asking, had to stop wondering if there was some point to all this—some lesson to be learned—because, in doing that, I was holding myself back from moving on.

David told me to move on—told me to love another, but contradicted that by being hurt at the possibility.

My heart was Mike’s before I came here—before it all happened. And, sometimes, I wished I’d never met David at all—wished I didn’t know what it felt like to love someone that way.

My thoughts came back to the auditorium while I took a deep breath.

Though I sat motionless, aside from my hands scaling across the keys, the room seemed to be spinning slowly around me. I wasn’t sure if I was dizzy or just lost in some ultra-realism with slow-motion camera panning, but nothing felt right—or looked right.

I played the scales slowly back and forth a few times, listening carefully, seeing my future in the physical form of the notes; Mike, our children—their little round faces smiling out at me from the space between thought and reality. I saw our lives—long and happy. And he would love me, and I would love him just as much.

But I still just didn’t know if it was enough.

Confusion consumed my emotions and took control of my hands; I played harder, slamming the notes. All of the anguish, the loss—I wanted it to go away. I wanted David to stay, to marry me, to have babies with me and grow old together.

The notes became slow and high once again. It’d never happen. I had a choice to make. To choose life or eternal love—if David would still even have me. He probably didn’t even want my answer anymore. And I didn’t expect to see him at the Masquerade next Sunday.

I wanted to hope he was happy somewhere out there, that he’d moved on—but it hurt when I tried.

I closed my eyes tight and let my heart die a little more, as it had been, slowly and surely, every day since my first kiss.

David, if you’re out there, somewhere, please know how much I miss you. Please know how sorry I—

“Ara!” Mike’s angry voice broke through my thoughts. “Where have you been?”

The room fell silent instantly as I pulled my hands from the keys and placed them in my lap, lowering my head.

“Do you have any idea what I’ve gone through this morning?” The stage thudded under his feet. “I was about to call the police.”

“Police? I was at school—”

“Don’t give me that rubbish. I knew you didn’t attend school today because your dad’s been out there searching for you since we realised you weren’t in roll call!”

There was nothing for me to say. I kind of knew he’d be worried. “Well.” I shrugged. “Guess you found me, so—”

“No. I didn’t. Your dad did. And he was so mad he couldn’t even come in here to talk to you, Ara. He called me.” He pointed to his chest. “How could you just run off like that? Not tell anyone where you were going. Jesus, girl.” The fabric on the stool dipped as he sat beside me, shaking his head.

“I don’t need your permission to go for a run.”

“That’s what you were doing?”

“Yes. Is that okay with you?”

“Ara, stop being a child. You know damn well you should’ve told someone where you were. Don’t try to make me out to be the bad guy. I’ve been driving all over town looking for you. We had no idea what time you left or how long you’d been gone.” He looked at his watch. “It’s twelve-thirty, for God’s sake, girl.”

I looked down at my lap, running my thumb over my locket. “Stop yelling at me.”