When I pour my soul onto notes, the chords resonate with my core. Ripping out whatever darkness is rooted within me; exalting me above my flaws, my mistakes. My very definitions.
For as long as I can remember, music has been my nightmare. Stripping me of my boundaries; unearthing forgotten memories, and unwelcome emotions. I loved music once upon a time, but that was before all of this. Before I was stripped of my humanity, my resolve to love. Before life as I knew it was stripped away.
The final note cuts through as the teacher steps away from the piano."Okay, that's it, class. Remember to keep practising because.."
"Music is the wine that fills the cup of silence." A chorus of yawns echoes in response. I gather my notes into my notebook and highlight the day's lesson. Leaves crash against the windows, drowning out the hum of the traffic temporarily. I stuff my books and pens into my duffle bag and stand up to leave but the sound of my name stills me in my spot.
"A word." The teacher gestures me over to his table. I walk to the little white structure he is perched at and wait. The last of the students walk out when he decides to speak. "It's wise of you to join the 37th trials for the academy selection_" What the f_
He chuckles, shuffling a bunch of papers. "Why do you look confused?" "You know the academy I am talking about." The letter arrives tomorrow, we leave just after dusk. Shit. How could I have forgotten? I did everything as I always did_
My phone buzzes in my jacket and I rush to pull it out; a sharp pain strikes my palm and it retreats oozing a red stickiness. A prominent gush from which my flesh peeks graces my eyes. A jolt of pain seeps into my hand. A wound? Blood? The cut sizzles, the wound turning black. Pieces of my flesh shrivel, leaving patterns of burns. The pain creeps up my arm like venom. It seethes, even screams. I scream. My teacher, now my brother, grabs my shoulders, his nails dig into my skin. "You are running out of time. Where there's three, a story unfolds. Find the ring. Find it." He bellows. A gust of wind breaks into the class, bringing with it a swirl of raging leaves.
Desks and tables creak under the raging wind, unable to remain rooted to the floor. Papers shoot about the room just as the storm crashes out the windows. Everything stills. Juan is gone and I am left to the debris of what used to be an elegant music classroom. You're running out of time. Find it. A breeze slips through my hair like fingers through water, a shiver runs down my spine. That definitely wasn't Juan.
On the little white table, a flash of light dances. It bounces off a finely flatten piece of metal. A stain of red betrays the blade, trailing to the cross guard. I pick up the weapon, the once venomous pain reduced to a dull recurring ache. A dagger. It's pommel gleams with our family crest, its grip made from thick straps of unrefined leather. "What are you doing here? Juan carried you with him all the time." Gladius animae that's what he called you_
The dagger floats out of my grasp and plunges itself into my chest. The light drains from my eyes. Suddenly my head feels like a brick wall, tipping backwards. Now falling. But my body remains still, until my neck snaps_
I muster the strength to pull my head back up, but the force sends me tumbling out of my sheets. My room stares bleakly at me, unaware of what is happening. I shove off the rest of my sheets and rest my feet on the fuzzy floor. The carpet embraces my feet, slipping between my toes and melting on my skin. It's all unwelcome. Itchy wetness trails down my face, and soaks into my hoodie. A flash of light tingles at the corner of my eye when I lift my hand to wipe my face. I throw the piece of metal across the room and hear it thud against the wall before clanging on the floor.
How did that thing get here? I saw it being sealed away with Juan in the mausoleum, never to see the light of day again. A slight breeze rests on my face, dulling the irritating heat. The dripping sweat stops momentarily and I step away from my bed, careful not to spot the glimmer of Gladius under the dull lighting of my chambers. Ignoring where the dagger flew, I slip into the bathroom. The flower pots glow under the borrowed light from my room, it's enough to find the switch. With one flick, brightness floods the place, bouncing off the spotless mirrors. I spot my pallid frame within the thick sleepwear.
My shoulder blades ache when I lift my hands towards the sink. I tag off my hoodie to reveal the prettiest skull pattern of bruising across my collar bone. I gather my hair to one side and study my back, the pattern graces it too. The events of the evening rush back to my head, I lift my leg and notice the dressing over it. I roll my shoulders, holding back a wince. God, I hate ancestors. The faint presence of those skulls hovers around me, desperate to be released. For as long as I remember, they were in charge of teaching us to tame our carnal instincts as vampires. Those skulls were, are, were my ancestors. My teachers. Teachers we were warned not to meet, I have met them more times than any of my family. I hold a record. Four times is a lot for the quieros.
I make my way to the tub and let the water run. I return to the mirrors and rid myself of my clothes. Right after dusk. That's soon. Oh, crap. The letter! I force myself back into my hoodie, ignoring the burning around my neck. I step back into the bedroom and scour the place for my letter but the glinting of Gladius captures my attention. I walk towards it and carefully pick it up. "You won't stab me, right buddy?" I force a dry laugh, unsure of the extent of my dream's truth. I carry Gladius to my drawer, only to find a red envelope on it. A golden pattern traces its face, glowing magically. WASP. Beneath it, my name glistens like a beacon.
I reach out for the letter but suddenly a dashing of light streams towards it. It stabs into it, pinning it to the drawer. Gladius. I try to pull it out but it burns me. The letter catches fire, quickly fading to ashes. My breath seeps out of my lungs, drawing the strength from my legs. I collapse onto my knees, Gladius' glint casting over my face. How do I explain a dagger burning a letter to a school I never wanted to go to? Sounds believable. My fire place goes ablaze, gathering what's left of my attention. Like a conspiracy, Gladius slips through the air and plunges itself above the chimney. I run to save my brother's most prized possession but it burns me, like the ungrateful piece of shit it is. My hands retract, sizzling. I stiffen at the dark pattern on my palms; thirds of ravens flying to my index fingers.
Like the fire never started, it vanishes. Leaving behind a cold dark ashen residue. Within the dark ash, a gold glint dances. I dig through it and find the same pattern of gold. WASP. Except beneath it isn't my name. Juan Evaren Quieros Rocha. The black envelope oozes of a cold sentiment, basking under the dull glow of my room. I carry it to my bed and plop onto it. Gladius stabs into the drawer with stronger aggression but glints in its familiar way, it's almost polite. I ignore it and watch my brother's unopen letter in my hands. It shifts with every movement of mine and I smile at it. "Juan would not stop talking about what he thought his letter would be like.." I chuckle to myself, Gladius glistens impatiently and somehow I can tell it is. I flip the letter and hesitantly break the seal, it sucks me into dark clouds. My fears are triggered hoping it's not a punishment from my predecessors. Not again.
When the clouds vanish, I am in a dull candle-lit room; the floor is thinly carpeted, the cold of it squeezing though the worn down craft. Emblem tapestries decorate the place, though they barely stand out. Everything feels cold and distant, it gives nothing to remain a memory. It demands to be forgotten. Despite my dullened senses, I can tell I am not alone. Panicked breathing echoes far yet close, all sound in a lost frenzy. Blurred figures surround the room, confused and aware. I try to make out their forms but the fading slurred voices grab my attention. "This-hisss y-yearr trulyyy is-zz exceptional-al and they? Accomplished.. This. On their own?_" the voice is feminine, strained from it's anciency, repeating over itself. Something between an echo and resonance. Then it snaps and like I was spat out of a foggy dream, I awaken on my bed. The black letter lies above my head, seal unbroken. I watch it unsure of how to proceed. Then I flip it over and there's a change. The name, it's been partially erased. Juan Evaren is gone, its an empty spot leading to, Quieros Rocha. When I force myself up, my sheets rip. What the_ Gladius rests in my hand, tightly gripped. Unlike before, I don't toss it. It's leather strap is wrapped around my hand, over my wrist, like I was getting ready for a fight.
Looking at the blade in my hand, I don't recognize the image. I have never wielded a blade but the sight of Gladius in my hand right now makes me feel otherwise. The straps loosen and I gently unwind them, resting Gladius on the table. The sound of spilling water suddenly grabs my attention. Crap! The tub. I run into the bathroom and turn off the taps, the water ripples and continues to spill over the edges of the tub. Ignoring it's excess, I throw off the hoodie and pick out my bath soaps. I hesitate between them unsure of which to use. Sullivan has taken care of me my whole life, he knows these things. I throw the ginger lemon bath bomb into the water and watch is sizzle to the bottom.
I get in as soon as the bubbling stops, my skin shifts under the cold creating a soothing tension around my neck. I shift to grab my shampoos and the water spills over erratically. A knock interrupts my movement and I turn to the entrance. A maid stands there, head bowed. I hum for her to come in, she does so swiftly. Within seconds she is crouched down besides me, applying shampoo to my hair. It's a gentle feeling, her warm fingers threading through my hair. She scoops some water and pours it over my head. "Uh.. Mistress.." she hesitates.
Foam from my hair spreads over the tub, concealing my nakedness. The smell of coconut engulfs my body, drowning out my senses. I hum, not fully invested in the conversation. "There is a man in your room.."
"Mhmm.." I relax into the tub.
"What?!" I shoot up having fully registered her statement. She stiffens. I realize my movement spilled the cold water onto her. "Who is it?"
She shakes her blonde head and I finally look at her face. "How long have you been serving here?" I settle back into the water, she resumes her duties.
"I only just transferred here_" She whispers, holding back whatever other information she was about to say.
"From?" I point out the obvious question.
"I cannot ss_say." She lets out. Unlike her meek resolve earlier, a certain coldness comes over her giving her whatever courage she previously lacked. I ignore the defiance and let her finish shampooing my head. The lesser we speak, the faster we can finish and I can find out who was in my room. Who is in..my room.
I step out of the bathroom only to find my outfit laid across my neat bed. There is no one. Probably didn't wait around. The maid follows me to my dresser and sets up the blow dryer. I clear my throat. "Do you have a description of the man?"
Like I didn't say anything, she flicks on the dryer. The whirring seeps through the silence of the night, the smell of my hair spreading across the room. She lightly combs through my hair, each coil getting less curly. I glare at her through the mirror but she keeps working, not fazed at all. "Did you hear_" The whirring gets louder just before the door bursts open.
The maid bursts into clouds of darkness, the dryer falling to the floor. "What is going on here?" Sullivan dashes to me, still fixating his outfit. He straps on his watch, giving me his full attention.
"No!" I shoot up from my seat. "What the fck is going on?"
Sullivan looks taken aback. But that's not the only thing his face says, he is worried. I should be the one giving the explanations here. I look around the room, the maid is gone. Aside from the dryer on the floor and outfit on the bed, I have no considerable proof that she was here. I could have very much done these things. "There was a maid in here_"
His brows crease as he hesitantly scans the room. "I am not lying! This outfit..she_" His face doesn't hide his disbelief. I sigh and fall back into the seat. "Nevermind. What time is it?"
He peaks at his watch. "2:05.."
I wrap my hair in the towel and squeeze. Releasing the dump curls, I pick up the dryer. Sullivan tries to reach out for it but I turn it from him. "You don't like straightening your curls_"
"Well the damage has already been done." I flick on machine and comb through my hair.