Stolen Songs

by Samantha Armstrong

  I run until my legs give out and I can’t breathe any longer. I stop, resting my hands on my knees and gasp for air.

  I know no matter what happens in there, Kingsley will come after me. That’s just what he does.

  I walk under the trees, out of sight, following the signs back to the city. Of course, there aren’t any buses in this area, so my walk is more like a freaking five-mile hike. It takes me at least an hour before I reach a bus station, and then it’s twenty minutes to my house.

  It’s late when I arrive. The lights are all out and the house is eerily quiet. I pop my head into the lounge and kitchen but no one’s there. I step over toys as I make my way up the stairs. I check on the kids’ room first, and I’m stunned to see them all asleep. It’s been so good having Darren locked up, and Trudy from social services calling in daily. Angela has had no choice but to clean up her act. I quietly shut the door, letting out a repressed sigh. I’m impressed. I head to my room and see Tilly curled up into a ball, fast asleep on my bed. I smile. Her usual firm expression is nowhere to be seen. She looks peaceful, like the child she should be.

  I change into light clothes and snuggle up behind her.

  I don’t go to English. I fake a sickie and go to the nurse. She makes me lie down the entire time, and I’m bored out of my brain. Five minutes before the class ends, I miraculously feel better. It’s lunch next, and I can’t risk seeing him. I pace to the music room, stopping at every corner looking ahead, making sure the coast is clear.

  As soon as I reach Mr. Barner’s class, the bell rings, and the students pile out. I’m itching to get in and lock the door behind me. As soon as the last person exits, I slip inside, and I’m about to bolt the door when Mr. Barner looks at me and frowns. “That was fast.”

  I smile nervously. “Need to get all the practice I can get.”

  “You do indeed. I want to go over your set with you and Hamish this afternoon, okay?”

  I swallow hard, feeling the palms of my hand’s sweat. I didn’t know what to say.

  He narrows his eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “I was just with the nurse.”

  “You don’t look so good. If you’re not up to it, we can do it tomorrow.”

  Yes! I want to scream at him, The longer I stay away from Kingsley, the longer I have to come up with a plan. But right now I can’t think straight at all.

  “You should probably go home now. Do you want me to take you back to the nurse?”

  The door opens halfway through his sentence and I nearly vomit. I’ve worked myself up so much I’m actually sick. Our gaze meets and the frown across his face deepens.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Kingsley paces towards me.

  “I think she might just be run down. She works very hard, you know.”

  As soon as Kingsley reaches me, I become putty in his arms. He leans down so his eyes align with mine, and he takes my face gently with his hands. I look into his eyes, they’re a rough sea green. The concern is crashing with each wave in them.

  “Are you okay?” he whispers. When I don’t respond because he’s stunned me, he speaks quickly. “Maddy, what’s wrong?”

  Can I tell him he’s the problem? I’m nauseated because of him. I need to get myself together. I shake my head. “Nothing.”

  Mr. Barner’s beside me now. “In all of the time I’ve known her, I’ve never actually seen her sick.”

  Kingsley’s jaw clenches, and he pulls me up, wrapping my arm around his waist and holding me with his arm hooked under my shoulder. Feeling his touch, his warmth, ruins me.

  “I’ll take her to the nurse,” he says.

  I try to protest, but the words don’t come. I’m not really sick, but I am sick. What the hell?

  “We’ll go over the set tomorrow, Maddy. I hope you feel better,” Mr. Barner calls after me as Kingsley carries my weight out the door and down the hall. Everyone is staring at me. Oh, God. At least it makes me get my shit together, and I find my voice. Nausea quickly turns to embarrassment.

  “Kingsley, I’m okay.”

  He tenses but doesn’t say a word.

  “Kingsley,” I say again. He releases a breath. “I’m all right.” He looks down at me. I’ve never seen him this upset. His jaw is tight. I can’t help but admire the harshness of it. He looks deep into my eyes, ignoring the crowd that’s watching our every move, but I notice them. I notice everything, and I hate the attention.

  “Are you sure?”

  I nod.

  The tightness starts to ease and so does my shoulders. “Can we get out of here?” I look around, and he follows my gaze. In one swift movement, he stands up straight, grabs me by the hand, allowing me to stand on my own, and walks me out of the school.

  We reach his car. He opens the door for me, before sliding into the driver’s seat and taking off. I don’t ask him where we’re going, but as soon as he takes the turn off, I know. I tense up, and he must notice because his hand is on my leg at once. “No one’s home,” he says. I know that should calm me, but this—whatever this is—it’s wrong. His thumb moves in circles, and I can’t find the words to tell him to stop even though I should.

  We enter the iron gates to his estate. He drives over the grass, through the rows of flowers until we reach the beach. It’s just as breathtaking as the last time. Maybe even more beautiful.

  Kingsley tugs me down to the shore then lets go of my hand. As soon as he does, I kick off my shoes and keep walking until my feet are in the water. The coolness is refreshing, the waves lapping against my feet are soothing, and my mind is suddenly clear again. I look up, and he’s sitting on the sand, his arms resting on his knees as he studies the shell in his hands.

  I move towards him and sit down. His gaze still doesn’t move, as he twists the shell in his fingers and speaks. “I’m sorry, Maddy.” Three words. Three words I’ve never been told in my life, and they do something to me. He looks up, and my breath hitches. “I don’t know what came over me yesterday. I panicked.”

  He picks up my hand and turns to face me. “I, just . . . it’s my dad. If he finds out—” His breath comes out in a rush. “I don’t want him to hurt you.”

  His dad could hurt me? He clearly doesn’t know what I’ve been through. An angry dad is nothing.

  “That’s all that it was. I swear. It won’t happen again. I told my mom. I want you to meet her.”

  I inhale so fast, I choke on the salty breeze. “You what?”

  “Maddy, I want you by my side. I’m not going to hide you—hide us—anymore.” His fingers lift to my face, and he trails up and down my jaw. “I want you,” he whispers. He leans forward and catches my mouth with a kiss. It’s so gentle I could cry.

  The soft waves in the background wash away what little strength I have. I fall back into the cold sand with him guiding me. I sigh, and he breathes it in. He drops himself down to his elbows, caging me with his biceps, and I’m flying, flying so high I think I really will cry.

  “Don’t go anywhere, Maddy,” he whispers.

  “Ahem.”

  I freeze. Kingsley’s eyes squeeze shut, and he mutters something under his breath I can’t make sense of, but it automatically sends my heart rate soaring. I try pushing him off me but he’s too big, too strong, and he doesn’t budge.

  Eventually, his eyes open and they meet mine.

  “Don’t leave,” he mouths, pulling back, and I’m immediately drawn to the model standing beside us. I sit up quickly and realize who it is. Their features are so similar I can’t miss it. His mom. She’s tall, ashy blonde, skinny as a stick and just utterly gorgeous.

  I stutter, but Kingsley interrupts me, pulling me to my feet. “Mom.” I can hear the sternness in his voice. She purses her lips, narrows her eyes and then they finally drift to me and scan me over. Embarrassment consumes me.

  “This is Maddy,” Kingsley says. “My girlfriend.” And then my heart stops. Like literally. How am I still standing?

  She arches an eyebrow. “Girlfriend?”r />
  Yeah, girlfriend? We haven’t discussed this. I can’t respond, but Kingsley does. “Yes.”

  She’s still staring at me, studying me. I can see the disappointment in her eyes, and it hurts. Kingsley puts his arm around me and pulls me into him. Both her eyebrows raise as she looks at us, and then finally they release along with a long, drawn-out sigh.

  “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Lillian.” She holds out her hand, and I can’t believe the sincerity in her features. I wipe my palm against my shirt before I extend it. “Would you like to join me for afternoon tea?”

  I nod hesitantly, and she smiles, looking to Kingsley, and so do I. I can still see the hostility in his features, but also the relief.

  “Come on then.” She turns around and heads back towards the house. “Somebody get me wine!” she shouts.

  I look up to Kingsley, and he’s shaking his head. I can’t make out what he’s feeling, though. He glances down and catches my gaze. He lifts his hand and captures my chin between his thumb and forefinger. He leans forward and presses his lips to mine. Just as I’m ready to sink into the kiss, I lose my balance as he swings me around until I’m on his back. I let out a shriek.

  “Ever had a piggy back ride?”

  I lean forward, gripping my arms around his neck so tight I’m sure I’m strangling him.

  “No.” I’m breathless.

  “Well, here’s another one to cross off your list.”

  And then he takes off up the freaking football field of a backyard towards his house, and I scream, making sure to pull back so I don’t deafen him. That would be a shame.

  As soon as we near the pool house, he slows to a stroll and I notice he’s not even puffing. I mean I know I’m short, but I’m still a hundred and ten pounds, and we just did a hundred-yard dash. “Not . . . so . . . tight,” he huffs and I realize I am strangling him. I quickly let go but nuzzle my head into his neck, and I hear him sigh. I breathe him in and get a lungful of cologne that makes my legs tighten around his waist. It’s a mixture of spice and warmth. It’s so luxurious, so enticing. So addictive.

  Kingsley’s not shy in front of his mom. At all. He’s holding my hand, my arm, my back. Resting his hand at the back of my neck. I can feel her eyes on me, but they’re not hard and intense anymore. In fact, I can see the softness in them.

  “What the hell is this?”

  I hurl around to see a man. In one glance, I know exactly who he is. His face is so stern, I shudder, but the hand above my knee tightens. However, it’s not comforting this time. I try pushing it off, but it doesn’t work.

  Lillian is up on her feet and walking towards him. She brushes her hand on his chest and leans into his shoulder to whisper something in his ear. His penetrating stare is so deadly, I want to slip into the pool beside us and drown.

  He walks closer, and Lillian’s voice gets louder. “Please don’t make a scene. Please—”

  Kingsley’s up, and I’m at his side. He’s pulled me into him again, but this time, he’s protecting me. I can barely see out from his underarm.

  “What’s going on, Hamish?” His voice is low and smooth. I sneak a peek out from Kingsley’s arm.

  “I think it’s about time you met my girlfriend.”

  I catch Lillian wince, and I know it’s about to get bad. I shrink back down into Kingsley’s hold and listen.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Craig,” Lillian objects but she’s interjected by his voice.

  “Quiet, Lillian. This is between me and my son.”

  She must have shied away because I don’t hear another word from her, and Kingsley’s grip around me tightens even more. Now he’s the one strangling me. I know he’s trying to protect me, but no matter how hard he squeezes, I can still hear every word that is going back and forth.

  “You left Rebecca for that? Out of everyone. You chose . . . that?”

  Wow. I wasn't expecting such a low blow. It cuts deep. I must ooze poverty, or at least, not look like any of the little princesses in his social circle. I'm going to go with the latter, for my own peace of mind.

  “I’d shut your mouth if I were you,” Kingsley says in a low voice I’ve never heard before.

  “Excuse me?” He’s startled, and even though I’m used to conflict, my pulse jumps. I know when a conversation is an argument, and I know when an argument is about to be a fight.

  I squeeze him with the arm I have wrapped around his waist and pull him slightly toward me. He must understand my intention when he starts to move with me. But it isn’t long until he is pulled back, and his grip on me is gone. I gasp and turn around. Craig has Kingsley by the neck.

  Lillian cries, “Craig, don’t!”

  “Get her off my property,” he spits out.

  Kingsley grits his teeth, and clenches his hands at his side. Craig lets him go and shoves him. He shoots me a warning glare, and before Kingsley loses it, I rush forward to take him by the hand and pull him away.

  He’s shaking, and I can tell it takes everything in him to not turn around. When we finally reach his car, he pulls back when he notices I’m crying.

  Why did I think this could work? I knew it couldn’t.

  His thumb brushes over my cheekbone, and then his lips press against them, kissing the tears streaming down my face. He’s peppering my face with kisses. He won’t stop. All over my face, my neck, my shoulders. He’s numbing my pain, and maybe his.

  I push his shoulders back, and he looks at me with so much grief. His eyes are troubled, his shoulders hunched.

  “Take me home,” I mumble.

  His head falls forward, and then a moment passes before he pulls back and moves around to his side of the car.

  We’re silent for the whole drive. When we pull up at Cynthia’s house, and I get ready to exit, he leans over, grabbing the handle, and I turn back around to him. “I’m sorry.”

  I seem to be getting that a lot from him, but maybe it should be me that’s apologizing. I smile, bring my hand up and delicately run it along the side of his face. The butterflies are swarming throughout my body, and it takes everything in my power to stop there.

  I turn and open the door.

  Kingsley

  When I get home, my dad’s waiting for me. “Fucking asshole,” I mutter as I pass him. I only reach the bottom of the stairs when I hear his footsteps behind me. He grabs me by the neck of my shirt and pulls me backwards. I stumble and turn around. His eyes narrow and he bares his teeth. I’ve only seen him this angry once before. When he last wanted to kill me. When I killed my sister.

  “You’re a disgrace to this family.”

  I can’t take it anymore. I lunge forward, tackling him in the waist. We knock the table over and send a glass jar smashing to the ground. He shoves me off him and punches me in the face with his fist. I stare at him for a moment, and then I grit my teeth and punch him back. I get his lip, and it bursts.

  “What’s going on?” my mom screams. My dad’s hands close around my neck and I fall back to the floor. I bring my hands up to his throat, and we’re both strangling each other.

  “Stop! Stop! Stop!”

  My vision is getting blurry and my breath struggles to make it past the constriction around my throat, when suddenly, the firm grasp around my neck is gone. I gasp for air, inhaling breath after breath as fast as I can. My vision clears and I see Nick on top of my father, pinning him to the floor so he can’t move. My mom rushes to my side, helping me to my feet. I spit blood and scowl at him before I shrug her off and storm to my room.

  Maddison

  Three days pass, and he hasn’t shown up. Something is wrong. I can feel it. Not only do I need him for my cello practice, but I’m getting angsty. I was going to end it, but I have to know he’s okay. This isn’t normal. When the bell rings on Friday afternoon, I make my way to the music room. I play on and off for an hour, but I can’t concentrate. The absence of the piano is far more distracting than the actual thrum of my cello.

  I c
an’t bear it any longer. I pack up, leave school and take the next bus to the last stop, suffering through the hour-long walk to his house.

  My heart is pounding, but I have to see if he’s safe. I don’t know what his father would have done to him. I jump the fence at the same place I had last time, making sure to avoid the sensor lights. His mom must be into gardening, because I think there’s every kind of flower here. I walk between rows of flowerbeds, past the occasional water feature until I near the side of his house where his room is. I look over my shoulder to make sure no one is here. When I’m certain I’m alone, I grab the trellis underneath the vines covering the wall, and pull myself up until I reach his balcony. I’m panting and huffing. I might do a lot of walking, but I’m definitely not fit at all. I wipe my hands against my jeans and peer through the glass door, but can’t see anyone. I tug at the handle, and surprisingly, it’s unlocked. I slowly open his door and step inside. His room is empty and pristine, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t here—I know they have maids round the clock.

  I check his closet and bathroom but come to the conclusion he isn’t in here. I lie on his bed and wait for a good twenty minutes, and as the seconds tick by, I wonder if his dad shipped him off.

  I get restless, and jump to my feet. I lean against the door and listen before I pop my head out. The wide hallway is empty, but I can hear music. Not the piano, but some pathetic woman and it’s coming from speakers above. I creep forward, pressed up against the wall. I have no idea if he’s here, and this house is so huge, it would probably take me half the day to cover it. Even then, I could miss him several times. I tiptoe down the hallway. When I realize my steps aren’t making a sound whatsoever, I loosen up and take long strides.