The Music Man

The Music Man
By; Shaalah Langton

         I heard the wind first, that slow, smooth sound that is soft enough to put us to sleep. The cool breeze rolled in silently through my bedroom window. With it, came the screams.
         My head flew off of my pillow and stared around, I couldn’t move while I waited. I waited for the sound to come again, for any sound to come. That slow breeze was steady, rolling in and out of my window, carrying the curtains with it as it moved.
         A sudden chill was thrown down my spine when I realized what it was. It’s back, I thought to myself after a long minute. My stomach rolled into a ball of ice, I could feel it lurching upward into my throat. My room was beginning to resemble a refrigerator as the temperature rose and fell with the curtains.
         The scream filled the room again, my ears rang. There was something in my hand, I was too afraid to look down and see what it was. I couldn’t breathe, let alone glance down at my hands. He was back and there was nothing that I could do about it. Once it started, once he came, he wouldn’t stop until he was finished. I knew that I wouldn’t make it through this time, I had been lucky the last time that he came, I hid. Like a coward, I hid from him as he committed his vile acts.
         It came again, my head pounded, like something was trying to get out, I could feel him there, close. I could feel his presence breathing down the back of my neck and threw my head in each direction, searching for a way to escape the fate that I knew was heading my direction. Another scream.
         The mystery item in my hand seemed to weigh a hundred pounds in only seconds. My breathing deepened, tears dampened my eyes as I whipped my head in each direction, I needed somewhere to hide to push back the inevitable.
         The footsteps echoed through the hallway that leads to my bedroom door, I felt panic well up inside of me and I ran to the door. I latched the lock tightly and stood back, holding the mysterious item as a weapon, I still couldn’t make myself look at what it was. The handle fit perfectly with my fingers, this made me tighten my grip around it, my knuckles began to ache but I refused to loosen my fingers.
         I scream and jump back when the door begins shaking furiously. I could hear a gruff voice on the other side but couldn’t make out what he was saying. I stood silently, pointing my weapon out in front of me.
         He was in the room with me; I could feel him breathing down my neck. Impossible! I thought to myself, the door was still shaking; whoever was on the other side still wasn’t able to come in. How was he here? WHY was he here? That voice of his, the one that I always obeyed, the one that sang me to sleep at night, hummed quietly in my ear. So much of me wanted to ignore that sweet voice that reminded me of music, so much wanted to turn toward him and beat him over and over again with the mystery object in my hand.
         The door flew open and I recognized the man, immediately. My father stood in the doorway, he had been crying. He looked at me with worried, longing eyes. I felt the man with the musical voice wrap his hand around mine, the one that held the weapon and lunge forward. My father moved to one side and looked at me with a shocked perplexity. He couldn’t see the man with the beautiful voice, nobody could but me.
         I felt the man with the musical voice turn my hand toward me, only now did I get a glimpse of the item in my hand. The blade of the knife was soaked in blood, the deep red color made me see spots. I looked down at my legs and my arms, slices cut through the flesh with violence. The screams, I realized, had been my own.
         The musical man laughed in my ear and plunged the knife into my abdomen. I looked up at my father with a frightened, painful look. “Daddy.” I whispered and then collapsed to the floor.
         The air around me was become thin, nothing to breath in, the pain in my limbs and in my abdomen shot through me all at once, I could feel the tears falling down my face but I couldn’t move or cry out.
         My father was at my side in seconds. I felt the sharp tug as he pulled the knife from my stomach and watched him as the color faded from his face, the lights began to dim.
         Finally, it was dark, silence consumed me. A silence that I had been waiting for, one that I welcomed happily. Then there was the laughter. The musical voice was now vicious, he had tricked me, lied to me and now he had me. I let him take me away; I let him lead me into my eternal darkness.