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♬A Final Note♬ (tw)
Aria closed her eyes and felt sucked into the world of notes and words. Bliss. Peace washed over her and she forgot the bruises lining her, her hollow, dead eyes, her almost constant fear. The music took hold of her and she was running free in its world. Her limp black hair shined again, her brown eyes brightened staring out at the world. And then she heard a crash and was ripped from the solace. She opened her eyes. They were dead again.
She paused the music and took off her headphones, her only friend. The door to her bedroom slammed open and her stepfather stomped in, drunk again.
“Oh- hey I was just-”
“You lazy girl! You were sitting here being a useless, stupid fool again!” he swore at her.
“I’m sorry, I already cleaned up and-”
“Come here.”
“Yes, sir…” she tensed and waited for his blows. She winced but didn't cry out. It wouldn't help, and would just upset her mother more, who she could hear crying in the other room.
“Now go do something useful for once you stupid girl!” she nodded silently and left.
She silently hummed gold, by Britt Nicole, to ease the new bruises and some of the real pain inside. It didn't help much. She silently waited for him to leave, staying out of sight. When he did, she returned to her room and wrote another song. She didn't think she was any good, but she never shared them. ever.
Another day
Another with nothing to say
Another two
If only you could walk in my shoes
I'm bleeding inside, can’t you see?
If only you could see me
The mess of a girl deep inside
If only I didn't have to hide
All-day
Trying to break away
Skip a beat skip my heart
My soul is dead anyway torn apart
I feel so small
If only the weak didn't always fall
I'm bleeding inside, can’t you see?
If only you could notice me
The mess of a girl deep inside
If only I didn't have to hide
All-day
Trying to break away
For you, I will hide all the pain
Leave me here standing in the rain.
Discard like an old towel
I can’t call the foul
She sighed and folded it up, shoved it away. Hidden. It would never be seen, never be sung. Nevers. So many nerves for her and her song. She almost wanted to write a song about never now. That song had given her a brief break. All the pain wrote the song while she got to escape. She put back on her headphones. The pale blue, her favorite color, not because of the color but because they were on the headphones, was almost worn off entirely, the padding on the ears was cracked in places, foam peeking through. They weren’t worn out, just loved.
She escaped into their world of happiness and sunshine and love. Comfort. She wanted that world to last longer than a few minutes, to last eternities, to never have to leave. But she had to nonetheless.
The next day her sleeves were pulled as low as they could to hide the finger marks from tight grips, the bruises from heavy blows. She glued on a bright fake smile, but as usual, didn't need it. Nobody saw her. She walked along the halls invisible. But she didn't care. She got out her headphones as she walked and her smile became genuine. Nobody noticed her in class either. She pulled a hood over them and nobody stopped her.
She loved it, somewhat. And also hated it. But if nobody saw her, she could leave and fly on musical wings to a free horizon. She didn't care what they thought or how unseen they made her feel. They never got to live in music. They didn’t write words of songs.
The same thing kept happening. Aria would listen to her worlds, taste freedom for a tiny eternity, and write and write and write. Every time she hurt, every bruise she had.
And then the cycle was interrupted. He had come storming in on her listening, as he often did. But he had had enough.
“I'm sorry.” he ignored her. He didn't lay a finger on her. He walked right to her bed where she had been listening, picked up her headphones, and snapped them. She felt like he slapped her in half when he did. Her world crumbled. She didn't know where to go, how to live. She fell to the floor like a wilted petal.
He left without another word to her. She laid there. She didn't know what to do anymore. Those beat-up old headphones had become her soul, her blood. She just lay there for hours, not moving, barely breathing. Her mom tried to comfort her but she didn't even look at her.
Around midnight, she finally got up and cried. She let out the tears from all those years. When they subsided she tried to write a song, to submerge herself into a different world. It did nothing. She went back to her bed and cried.
She didn't wake up the next morning. She never fell asleep. She didn't want to go to school, but if she refused he would hurt her and make her go anyway. So? Let him. He already hurt her more than anyone could ever know. Her mom came in to tell her to get up. She refused. Something in her eyes made her mom not force her. She spent the day writing songs. None of them helped. She stayed in her room and silent, like always. He never noticed she was even there.
None of the songs let her escape. None of them took away any pain. She couldn't take it anymore. Her mom had offered to get her new headphones. It wouldn't help. She went to the hiding place where she kept her songs. She was done hiding. She was going to take things into her own hands. She sat down and wrote a note.
“Mom. I love you. I’m sorry for what I'm about to do. When you read this, it will be done. If you can't save me, if he won't stop, if nothing I do matters, then I'm going to leave. Forever. You’ll find my body in the forest. I should be hanging by a rope from one of the trees. I don't care what you do with me. I hope you leave him. You don't deserve this. The rest of these papers are my songs. I wrote them in secret. They aren't very good. I'm done hiding. Music was my escape. My headphones took me to a better world, I think some of the songs express that. Don't let him have them, he would destroy them. But if you like, copy one of them and show it to him. Maybe it would help him see. A good one might be the one that starts ‘another day, another with nothing to say. It was written almost as a letter to him. Try to be strong when I'm gone. Try to be strong enough to fight him. I love you. Aria Wren.”
she used her dead father's last name instead of his. Mom said he loved music, he played 3 different instruments, and the year he spent with her she was always on his knee listening to him sing or play. After he died she always looked lost, except when she listened to music. Now, she was again lost without her dad's headphones.
Not anymore. She knew where she was going. She put her songs and the letter in a box and walked into her mom's room, a set expression on her face. She didn't care where he was anymore.
“Hey, mom.”
“Feeling better?”
“No. But I have something for you. You need to promise not to open it until tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Promise me.”
“Ok… I promise.”
“Goodbye, mom. Don't blame yourself.” she turned and left, giving no explanation. She collected the pieces of her dad's headphones and some money, enough for good rope. She had a purpose.
She started to walk out when she encountered him.
“Why aren't you in school?”
“Shut up.” she met his eye. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, then narrowed them and raised his fist. She just brushed past him. She opened the door but turned.
“You don't control me anymore. It’s your fault.” she walked out and closed the door. She ignored him, opening the door and yelling at her. She went straight to a climbing and hiking gear store and bought sturdy rope.
She walked into the forest and took her time slowly picking the right tree. She found one and pushed a rock under it. She hung a noose from the tree and stepped into it. She held her dad's headphones tight and prepared to step off. Her final note played, and then her life song settled into silence, leaving only a swinging body.
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This article has 5 comments.
idk if they had earbuds in her dads time... also, I was right! i was inspired by the cover picture, which I later saw in color. they were blue!
On another note, no pun intended, Aria could've survived if she had earbuds, they're easier to hide. How do you feel about music? I feel like music helps me survive as well. I am addicted to Jackson Browne.
inspired by the cover photo. i hope this will always only exist in fiction.
if you are being abused or are suicidal, get help. tell someone. you aren't alone.
and, if you're a talented songwriter, recognize your talent and use it, don't kill yourself.