Page 20 of Grand Master

THE VILLAIN IN EVERYBODY’S STORY…

“Wake up, Mira baby.” Mommy stated sweetly.

I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes as the dim hallway light spilled into my room.

She stepped fully inside of my room, smelling faintly of coffee, and rain.

Her hair was pinned back with stray curls falling loosely against her high cheek bones.

I looked at her and saw the heaviness of her eyes, mommy was tired.

“Hey baby,” she whispered.

I smiled at her then stifled a yawn, the last thing that I wanted to do was make her feel bad about waking me up in the middle of the night. She worked a double shift, and tonight she got off at three in the morning.

She crouched down by my bed; I could see the sheen in her eyes before she even smiled up at me. It was the same look that I saw time and time again, a look of defeat filled with burdens that she would never say out loud.

“Happy birthday!” She mustered up all of her strength and energy to put the happy umph in her voice for me.

My throat tightened, not because I forgot about my birthday, but because she was the first person to say it to me before I got ready for school.

I threw my arms around her neck, breathing in the comfort I only ever got when she was close.

She held me just as tightly, and I felt her sigh into my shoulder long and heavy.

“I wish I could have been here tonight, at midnight,” she said, pulling back just enough to look at me.

“I’m sorry, Mira. But tomorrow, I swear, I’m taking off from both jobs. It’ll just be you and me.” Her voice trembled like she didn’t trust herself enough to promise that.

I nodded and smiled to make her feel good.

At the age of eleven, I knew what bills were.

I saw mommy at the end of each month sitting at our kitchen table with a stack of white envelopes along with her big black calculator adding up what all she had to spend out for the following month.

I always silently wished that I could make magic happen and help her with all of the bills that came to the house monthly.

She reached behind her and brought out a musical worn leather case.

“I didn’t have time to wrap it; I end up not taking a break today.” She smiled sadly.

“This…this was mine. Your grandfather gave it to me when I was your age. I never really play this one, so the strings aren’t worn down. The strings on this one is made out of sheep skin and was hand made.” The sadness in her smile was replaced with her looking proud to hand it over.

She smiled and opened the case to show me a violin.

It was old and looked like it had dulled over the years.

There was a tiny chip on the edge but nevertheless, it was beautiful.

She placed the warm wood in my hands, my eyes lit up as my chest ached with the weight of happiness.

Mommy played the violin whenever she had free time.

It was something she loved to do; it brought her peace and happiness.

It also soothed me each time she played.

Her playing gave me hope that our lives would turn around to a point where she wouldn’t be weighed down with so many burdens along with the struggle of taking care of both of us.

I traced the curves of the violin; my fingertips moved over its smooth surface.

“Thank you, mommy. It’s so beautiful.” I felt my eyes well up with tears.

Her warm soft hands cupped each side of my face; she looked at me steadily in the eyes then smiled.

“Whenever the world feels loud or unfair, I want you to play this, let it be your voice when you don’t know what to say. Music will never judge you, Mira…It’ll only listen to you.” She placed a kiss on my button nose.

Her words sank deep, and heavy inside of me, like they belonged in a part of my heart that had been waiting for them. She kissed my forehead, holding her lips there for a long moment.

“You’re my music, baby girl, always will be.” Her soft voice cracked.

“Things are going to get better for us, I promise.” She said, exhaling.

The tears finally spilled before I could stop them. When she released me, I clutched the violin to my chest feeling the weight of it. Even though the night was quiet, I swore I could already hear the music that the violin would make for me in the future.

I woke up blinded by my own tears. The last strands of my dream slipped through my mind like smoke.

I always found comfort seeing my mom so vividly in my dreams. It brought me a comfort that I desperately needed.

Soon as I started to reach for her again, she was gone.

With shaky hands, I looked around the room that I was inside of.

It was less extravagant than Grand’s room.

I could also tell that it was on a different level from wherever his room resided in.

Still the coldness seeped through my bones, no amount of covers got rid of the cold air that blew through the vents twenty-four-seven.

This room was much smaller and to my surprise, it was all bone white.

White crisp sheets, white walls, and a white leather two-seater couch that sat right by the door.

No windows were inside of the room, but I liked the fact that I had my own bathroom connected.

Like Grand room, this room didn’t have a door but a panel that enabled the door to slide open than close back into the wall whenever the maid by the name of Angie came in to bring me my food.

I had crossword puzzles, a game of chess, and checkers to supposedly keep me busy.

Tone came to see me twice; he normally didn’t say a thing to me.

He’d simply open my room door, whenever I played my violin.

I didn’t bother trying to make a run for it because there were always two big burly guards standing right in front of the entrance with their hands folded in front of them.

I would remain in my bed or either sit on the couch and play until my arms grew tired.

Whenever I played, I searched for some sort of clarity to my current situation.

I wanted to rid my mind of the images of Darius and accept the fact that my kidnapper was the vicious cause of his death.

People worked from sunup to sundown around here from what I heard outside of the walls of my room.

Beeping noises, the sound of people screaming and pleading for mercy.

I even heard the sound of something banging on bars.

Grand men laughed loudly and talked a lot of shit to one another.

It was almost as if this place was its own secret society, it all placed my anxiety at an all-time high. So many questions swirled around in my mind, I wanted to explore the place but fear of seeing what really went on around here made me not want to see a damn thing.

I was depressed today, I woke up feeling lower than low.

On my mind right now, was my mom. How she’d kept her promise that day, she took me to the bakery to get me a handmade cake.

We went to the park, got ice cream, and she even got some random kids to sing to me happy birthday as she played the violin.

She promised that things would get better for us.

Her promise never got to see the light of day.

Things for me seemed to get worse, even when shit was going good for a short period of time it always ended up going bad. Darius was a prime example of that.

I found myself sad and mad when it came to Darius.

He could have left me the fuck alone or told me what it was that he wanted from me in the beginning.

He strung me along, fooled me and actually convinced me that he was in love with me.

What Darius had done to me; I wouldn’t wish on my worse enemy.

A part of me didn’t give a damn that he was dead.

It made me question the logic that I once had beforehand.

I told myself over and over that no matter how much wrong a person did me or anybody for that matter…

didn’t deserve to die a brutal death like Darius.

Then I started to battle with dark thoughts, a small voice in my head screamed that he did deserve to die.

A person like Darius was dangerous to vulnerable people.

Taking advantage of someone when they’re down on their luck in life is the weakest shit ever.

A tear slid down my cheek followed by another.

I swallowed down my sorrow and picked up my violin that was on the side of my queen size bed.

My hands shook slightly as I tightened the bow.

I pushed Darius out of my mind then imagined my mom’s-tired smile, her hands cupping my cheeks, I heard her comforting soft voice.

“You’re my music, baby girl”.

I sat the violin against my shoulder; my fingertips found the worn grooves on the fingerboard.

With my chin resting on it I played freestyle.

The first note cracked like my voice when I tried not to cry.

The second note was better, fuller, warmer.

The sound wrapped around me soft but strong.

It felt like the tunes of my violin were holding me together, keeping me from splitting apart under the weight of everything that I was carrying.

Somewhere in the middle of me playing, I closed my eyes and felt peace.

It wasn’t the kind of peace that stayed forever, but enough to breathe and believe for just a moment that maybe I wasn’t as broken as I thought.

I felt the strain in my arm as I continued to play with my eyes closed.

I didn’t bother to open my eyes when I heard the beeping nose to the panel on my wall.

Someone opened my door, it was most likely Tone, it’s like he purposely had him or one of the men open my door whenever I played.