"Where's your music?"

day three: "Where's your music?"

prompt: the silence woke him

I lay in bed; music drifting through my ears. A soft melody that I would fall asleep to each night—it is my father’s favorite playlist. I begged him to help me find all the songs on Spotify when my CD had scratched and would no longer play. I had carefully sifted through the covers to find the original artists and placed them in the correct order.

I drift to sleep, the guitar strums leading me into dreamland. No matter how stressful or horrific the day had been, this music always comforted me.

I awoke when silence enveloped my room. I fumbled to find my phone, only to see the power had gone out and my phone had died. I rubbed my tired eyes and put on a shirt to go grab the lamp in the bathroom when heavy footsteps ran down the hall.

I stopped, fear pounding my heart. I chided myself, before approaching the door, “Dad? Is that you?”

No answer.

I grit my teeth and grab my worn baseball bat, twirling it in my hands. I grab the handle and open my door ever so slightly, peering into the hallway with one eye. Gaining confidence, I pull it open more to slip into the hallway.

I listen carefully for sounds of an intruder as I make my way silently to my Dad’s bedroom. Lights flash through the blinds as a car passes and I see a figure rushing across the lawn, dressed in black.

I hurry the rest of my way to Dad’s bedroom and pull open the door. I drop my bat in horror as I cry out. The lights then return on and I see the full image of my father, lying dead on his bed. Three gunshot wounds in the chest.

“No,” I sob, rushing over to him. “You can’t leave me too.” I check his pulse to see it had already gone stagnant and I cry out again.

I struggle to dial 911 with the tears in my eyes and my shaking hands, but I succeed. I twirl the cord around my finger as I try to explain what had happened to the operator. As I remain on the phone, I see I had covered the phone in his blood, setting off another wrack of sobs.

~

Days turned into weeks as I struggle to keep my scholarship to the state college. My aunt and uncle had moved in with me so I wouldn’t have to switch schools in the middle of senior year. I barely spoke, barely ate, and pushed everyone away.

Not even Kimberly could make me smile. Even so, she continued to try when everyone else gave up.

Each night she taps on my window and I let her in, despite not speaking to her. She did most of the talking—talking about her life or her dreams.

Tonight, she goes to leave, “Bye, T.”

“Kim,” I start and she pauses, one leg out the window. “Stay, please.”

Her eyebrows raise as she looks between me and the window, before returning to her spot beside me on my bed. “You spoke,” she says, surprise lacing her voice. “That’s more than I’ve heard you say in the last two months.”

“I...I’m sorry,” I stutter, tears gathering in my eyes. “I can’t seem to make myself feel better.”

She shushes me, wrapping her arms around my torso, “You don’t have to feel better. This isn’t something I expect you to get just over.”

I sniff, rubbing my nose with a tissue as I pull her to lay down beside me.

“Where’s your music?” she mumbles, her eyes drooping. I stiffen and she opens an eye curiously.

“No music.” I say firmly and she frowns, but closes her eye again. I lay awake, watching her sleep, focusing on the sound of her breathing to keep out the silence.

The silence keeps me awake, but his music tears me apart.

~

I awaken to silence.

I sit up, wide awake, to see Kimberly is nowhere to be found. I check the time to see it was barely three a.m., not a time for her to return home. I stand, scouring the room for her backpack, for any indication she was still here.

I rush to the bathroom to see it empty. My aunt and uncle are out of town, but I check their room just in case.

“Kim?!” I call desperately. The silence chilling me to the bone.

I return to my room to see a fallen note. I rush to it, reading it quickly as more tears fell down my face.

“Please, not her too.”