Stolen Songs

by Samantha Armstrong

Kingsley

  Fuck.

  Maddison

  I try shaking her, slapping her face, doing everything and anything, but she doesn’t wake.

  “Somebody help!” I cry. The guys doing lines turn to me but they are so far gone they don’t even know what is happening. Suddenly, I’m knocked back as Cynth is pulled from my arms and placed on her back.

  Kingsley hovers over her, his hands pumping her chest and his mouth breathing into hers. “We need an ambulance!” he shouts. Time seems to stand still as I watch him push, breathe, over and over—trying to bring the life back to her. But her body stays the same.

  Limp.

  Pale.

  Dead.

  Tears consume me as I watch. “Cam, call a fucking ambulance!” Kingsley shouts. I follow his stare to see Cam standing behind me. His eyes are wide, and his face is almost as pale as Cynth’s. He grabs his phone from his pocket and brings it up to his ear, and I fall back to the floor.

  The voices surrounding me are now just distant echoes. I try to get closer to her but I can’t move. The walls seem to be closing in on me and I’m finding it difficult to breathe. Someone pulls me to my feet as I hyperventilate. The face that hovers before me is distant, vague, and all I seem to see are images of Cynth. Lifeless. I feel like I’m going to be sick. I lurch forward, gripping my waist and vomit.

  “Maddy! Maddy.” His voice is firm, but I can hear the fear. I finally manage to pull myself up and see Cam in front of me.

  “Are you okay?” He pulls me into him. I can’t move from his hold, I can’t do anything except cry as I watch Kingsley above Cynth. He’s pushing on her chest, breathing in her mouth and when she doesn’t respond, he’s shouting, screaming at her to come back.

  The paramedics finally arrive, and take over from Kingsley. He falls back, breathing heavily. His face is red, and sweat beads across his forehead. He stares at me with wide, sorrow-filled eyes.

  I shove out of Cam’s grasp and fall beside Cynth. She looks exactly the same. A paramedic is above her continuing CPR while another is frantically removing something from a bag. I’m leaning over her head when I’m pushed back and the paramedic fixes a breathing mask to her face. I fall to my elbows, watching. They press something to her chest and her body jolts. I scream. I feel Kingsley’s arms wrap around me. He holds me against his chest. It feels like an eternity before the paramedic finally stops, and I’m scared because they’re not doing anything anymore. They’ve stopped. Everything. The paramedic looks up to me and I can see the regret in his eyes.

  “No,” I breathe. Kingsley’s hold on me tightens. I’m shaking. Then everything happens so fast. Police break down the door and flood the room. It’s a frenzy. People scream, and run around, but all I can focus on is Cynth.

  “Kingsley.” I attempt to get out of his hold. “Let me go!” Tears slide down my face. “I need to see her!” I scream. I feel his hold loosen and his arms fall away, and I scramble away from him. I’m on my hands and knees, crawling towards Cynth. I’m sobbing her name. As soon as I reach her, the reality of the situation really settles in. She’s not moving. Not breathing. She’s lifeless.

  Dead.

  I bring my hand up to my head, gripping my hair. “No, no, no . . .”

  “This is now under investigation. You don’t have much time.” I can hear the urgency in the paramedic’s voice. “Say goodbye.” I look back to Cynth. I’m not ready to say goodbye. Panic takes over again. I hesitantly touch her cheek, and lean forward. My tears spill over her. “I love you, Cynth.” I kiss her forehead.

  Kingsley is at my side. “Maddy, we have to go.”

  But I can’t. Not yet. “No.”

  “They won’t let us stay.”

  I look up, confused. There are about five police officers clearing the room, and one is taping the area off with caution tape. I see them moving towards me. I lean back over Cynth, pressing my head to hers.

  “Ma’am, we need you to step away,” a firm voice says from above me, but I don’t move.

  “Come on, baby,” Kingsley whispers in my ear. I feel his hands on my arms. I shake my head, but I’m too weak and he pulls me into him and away from Cynth. His arm is around my waist, holding me up. Each step we take further away from her, the harder the situation hits me. My gaze is glued to her body on the floor, and I stumble and trip, not caring to lift my feet.

  As soon as she’s cut off from my vision, I realize I have to get out of here.

  Now.

  I yank out of Kingsley grasp, and he doesn’t stop me. I look up to meet his gaze, and it’s still the pained look I saw earlier when he stopped CPR. “I can’t,” I whisper. I turn and shove through people and out the door. I’ve never felt pain like this before, it’s so consuming it takes over my very existence. My feet manage to hold me up as I make it out of the house, tears blurring my vision. I run for as long as I can until my chest feels like it’s caving in.

  I decide to go to the only place I can. The music room.

  My breathing is short and sharp. I have to get in there, or I don’t know what I’m going to do. I walk around the school building until I find a slightly ajar window, and pull myself up. The hallway is dark, but as soon as I touch the floor, a blaring siren goes off.

  I run down the hall, my thoughts engulfing my mind, my heart drowning in my sorrow. Why? Why didn’t she stop?

  The tears stream down my face, and it’s becoming difficult to breathe.

  By the time I reach Mr. Barner’s class, I fall onto his door, my shoulders rising and falling quickly. I grip the handle and shove it, but it’s locked.

  I scream. Without thinking, I smash the window centered in the middle of the door. My scream turns into a wail as a sharp pain shoots up my arm and I quickly withdraw my hand into my stomach. I don’t even know where it’s cut, but dark red blood seems to cover every inch of my skin. I shove my hand through the shards of glass, pushing past the pain. I reach the lock and unhook it.

  I’m beginning to feel lightheaded when I reach Mr. Barner’s desk, and it’s not because of the blaring alarm. The throb coming from my hand is slowly starting to numb. I lean against his desk, close my eyes, breathing in and out. I attempt to stop crying, but I can’t. I pull open the cupboard behind his desk with my uninjured hand and retrieve my cello.

  Placing it in its straps, I sit myself down and play.

  The lull of the bass, the pitch of the scream, pulls me back and forth to awareness as I try to stay in this world. It faintly holds me together, like a string thinning . . . and thinning . . . so slowly, it’s about to snap. I close my eyes, letting myself drift off to that world that takes me away from this one.

  The image that pops into my mind isn’t what I expected. It’s a memory, as vivid as the cello in my hands.

  My feet hit the pavement, one step at a time. I want to run. Run away from this wretched place. But my legs are too tired. I’m too tired. I feel a hand tap my shoulder, and I whirl around, eyes wide. But it’s only a girl, like me. Her eyes are sad, like my heart, and she offers me a small smile. “Hey,” she says softly. “You wanna sleep over?”

  She saved me that day we first met. But I didn’t save her.

  The pain is back. I open my eyes and the room around me spins. The neck of my cello is covered in blood, and my fingers are beginning to slip. I grip tighter, and the pain sharpens.

  I play with all that I have left.

  Kingsley

  As soon as I hear the school siren blaring, I know my instincts were right. She’s in there. I run up the steps to the front door, but it’s locked. I have to hurry. I immediately scour the side of the building, until I find a window that is open and I jump inside.

  The siren has offset a bright red flashing light. I run. It doesn’t take me long to reach the music room, but once I do, my heart drops.

  There is blood and glass everywhere.

  I yank open the door, and my chest compresses even more. She’s unconscious on the floor, surrounded by bits and pieces of
her cello, and so much blood.

  I fall to my knees beside her, pulling her up into my arms. I feel her pulse. It’s slow, but it’s there. I cup my hand around her face. It’s hot and wet. Tears? Sweat? My hearts racing. “Maddy! Maddy! Can you hear me?”

  Blood covers her right arm and most of her clothes. “Maddy, I’m here, baby. I’m here.” I say over and over. I pull her against my chest. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry—”

  I call the paramedics and hold her in my arms for what feels like eternity before the door crashes open, and paramedics rush to my side. She’s pulled from my grasp, and delicately placed on her back, and I’m shoved out the way. The siren is still blaring, pieces of her cello are stabbing my legs, and her blood is smeared all over my shirt. What have I done?

  “Sir, we’re going to need you to come with us.” I look up, and a police officer is staring down at me.

  The first thing that pops into my head is that I need to protect her. I move around the paramedic, so I’m near her head. Her eyes are closed, and they place an oxygen mask around her mouth and nose.

  “Sir.”

  I look up, and the firm expression on the officer’s face says he isn’t patient.

  I press my lips against her forehead. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, then stand and follow the officer out to his car.

  I make my statement. I tell them it was all my idea, to break into the school. That none of it was her fault. They believe me, I think. With my record, they don’t really have any reason to doubt it, unless her record is worse, which could be the case.

  I catch a cab home and pass Toby’s house. It’s cautioned off with tape and surrounded by cops, reporters, and people from the party. I pull out my phone to see I have eight missed calls. Flicking through them, I see most of them are from Mom, a couple from Cam. I shut off my phone and shove it back in my pocket. I don’t feel like facing either of them right now.

  I know I wouldn’t go to jail if they found out I was her dealer. My dad had connections with the police department, but that only increases the guilt.

  As soon as the cab pulls up at my gate, I jump out and throw him a hundred dollar bill. I climb the gate, so no one is warned I’m home, and pace towards my car. I pull out my keys from my pocket it, unlock it, jump in and speed out of our driveway and down the street.

  Kingsley

  I grip the flowers in my hands about to turn away when I peer through the window of the door. Her eyes are closed. I have to see her when she’s asleep, because I can’t face her yet. Not after what I’ve done.

  Ever so slowly, I push open the door. A persistent beep sounds from the machine beside her every few seconds, and a fuzzy old television is on in the corner of the room. I frown, flicking it off before I reach her.

  Her face is calm. Her thick dark hair is brushed beside her face. My hands are trembling as I move towards her. This is all my fault.

  I want to throw the flowers at the wall. My hands grip tighter around the stems, and the closer I get, the more constricted my chest is. I place the flowers on the table beside her bed, and as I look around, I finally notice there is nobody here—no family, no friends. She has no flowers, no balloons or get well cards. Nothing. I’m so confused. Surely her foster parents would at least be here. They can’t be that bad, can they? Maybe they just packed it all up. Maybe she’s getting out of here soon.

  I look back down to her, feeling the guilt consume me all over again. I thought I’d felt it all before, but it’s worse now. I’ve been responsible for the deaths of two people in my life.

  “I’m so sorry, Maddy,” I whisper as I brush my lips against her forehead. I delicately run my finger along her cheek. Her skin is so smooth. She’s not wearing any makeup, and the innocence of her features melts my heart.

  A tear escapes and splashes onto her pale cheeks. I jerk back, wiping my face, straightening my shirt, and clearing my throat. I have to get out of here. I stand from the bed, rocking her. I take three long strides before I reach the door. Just as I press my hand to it, I hear her stir and I freeze in place.

  “Kingsley?” she croaks. I look back over my shoulder. Her blue eyes are dull, and she’s struggling to hold them open. My insides tighten. I can’t bear it. The guilt. The pain. The shame. I turn and push through the door.

  What the fuck is wrong with me? I pace through the hospital, my eyes filled with tears. I shove the front door open so hard it smashes against the wall. I press my head into the palms of my hands, then hit the wall. I grimace at the pain. Once that tear breaks free, the rest follow suit. I’m a fucking mess.

  Maddison

  The biggest bunch of bright red roses are sitting on the table beside me. My mind is still groggy. I attempt to lift my hand to rub my eyes when a searing pain shoots up my arm. I wince, pulling it back into my chest. The door opens. My eyes dart up but drop when I realize it’s the nurse.

  “Someone has an admirer.”

  I look back to the bunch of flowers beside my bed. I have never been given flowers in my life. “Who gave them to me?”

  “It was a handsome boy, tall, light brown hair and impeccably dressed.”

  I was right. Kingsley. He was here, and he left. Why?

  “What happened?”

  She stood beside me, checking my vitals. “You cut open an artery in your arm and lost a lot of blood.”

  I look down to my hand wrapped in a thick bandage, and I wince. “Cynthia!”

  She jumps back. “Who?”

  I gulp, feeling the tears brew in my eyes, but I don’t respond. She presses her lips together, then says, “Your parents will be here soon to pick you up.”

  My gaze darts to hers. “No.”

  She frowns. “What do you mean?”

  “How much does this cost?”

  “Well, if it’s on insurance, it’ll be free, but if not, your parents can sort that out, you don’t need to worry. You need to recover, and not smash any more windows.”

  I remember Kingsley’s credit card and I pat myself down, but I’m wearing nothing but a hospital gown. “Where are my clothes?”

  “We threw them out. They were well . . . you know.” She frowns. “Did you want—”

  “Where’s my stuff?”

  “What stuff?”

  “My phone, credit card.”

  “Maddison, you had nothing on you.”

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  As if on cue, Angela bursts through the door. A pathetic attempt at a worried expression is painted across her face as she rushes towards me.

  “Oh, honey, are you okay?” She touches my leg, and I want to kick it off, but I’m too weak.

  “She will be,” the nurse says and helps me to my feet. I groan as the world spins around me. I don’t make out what the nurse is saying to Angela, but I don’t care.

  Just before we leave, I glance at the roses and leave them there.

  We move towards the parking lot. A beat up car with the back window cracked open is parked on the curb. I have no idea whose it is, or how she got it.

  “I’ll get you the money,” I mutter.

  “You better,” she bristles. I realize the kids aren’t there.

  “Where’re the kids?”

  “Tilly’s looking after them. What happened anyway?”

  I rest my hand on the door handle and take a deep breath. I don’t want to talk about it, but I know she’s not going to let it go. I mumble, “Cynthia’s dead.”

  “Hmm, I’m not surprised.”

  I bite my tongue to stop myself from losing it. I bite so hard I taste blood.

  A bang on my door overrides the cello playing in my ears, and then it flies open. “Get those fucking things out of your ears. There’s someone here to see you,” Angela snaps, then turns around and storms back down the stairs.

  I pull my headphones out and shove my iPhone into my pocket. I cradle my bandaged arm into my chest and walk down the stairs to the front door. Cynthia’s little sister, Abby, is standing there with her hands quiverin
g at her side.

  “Hi, Maddy.” She forces a smile. Her eyes are red and puffy. I step forward and wrap my uninjured arm around her, and she sobs. It takes everything inside of me not to break down right here. But I have to be strong for her. Cynth would want that.

  “The funeral’s on Tuesday at ten o’clock. I thought you’d want to know. It’s at the church on Lipton Street.”

  “Thank you for telling me.”

  She pulls back and wipes her eyes. She nods, then turns around and runs away.

  Kingsley

  My vision is blurry and my breathing is irregular. I don’t even realize what I’m doing until I pull up onto the curb. Every muscle in my body tenses and I’m stuck in my seat. I attempt looking out my window but I have to wipe my eyes, and when I do, I see that the parking lot is empty. The last time I saw it, it was full with cars and people dressed in black. The last time I saw it was over ten years ago.

  Images of her smile flash through my mind. The sound of her laugh. Her cry. The sound of her heart beat as I rested my head on her chest. Her small hands gripping onto my fingers. I shake my head, then jump out of the car. A sharp breeze clears my head, and runs down my spine leaving goosebumps over my skin, and a deep hole in my chest. I look up to the sky—to her.

  My hands shake, and my heart pounds. Before I can think, my feet start moving in the direction of the cemetery.

  The late afternoon sun filters over the graves, highlighting the tombstones. I’m relieved to find I’m the only one here. My chest tightens as I stop at the iron gate. I take a deep breath, then take that first step, and I can’t stop as I run to her. The complete opposite to when I was here last. I couldn’t pass these gates. Nick had to carry me kicking and screaming. I shake that memory away.

  The soft green grass comforts my knees as I fall beside one of the smallest graves here. Her life was too short.