I freeze up and just stare at her grave. It still doesn’t feel real. Just like the day she was buried. I lean forward and trace the letters across the tombstone.
In loving memory of Sarah Kingsley
Daughter of Craig and Lillian, brother of Hamish Kingsley and Angel of God.
There’s a fresh bunch of flowers below her tombstone. Tulips. The flowers my dad gives my mom. He’s been here.
I drop my hand and my head. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. I feel a drop of water on the back of my neck. I reach out and rest my hand on her grave. “I’m so sorry.” Tears cling to my cheeks, and invade my mouth as the words that plague my mind on a daily basis explode out of me. “I–I didn’t mean to.” I break down, resting my head against her tombstone. “I didn’t mean to. I never thought this was going to happen. I was just a stupid little kid that wanted attention. I didn’t mean to . . .” My shoulders are moving erratically, and I feel another drop of water on my neck. I look up, and the clouds have darkened. A crack of thunder enhances the droplets into heavy thick beads and I know it’s her. “I wish you were here, sis. I miss you.”
The sky opens up and it pours down.
Kingsley
What the fuck does he want now? I make my way down the hallway, towards his office. I rest my hand on the doorknob, inhaling and exhaling, trying to muster up the courage I need to face him. I pull my shoulders back and push open the door.
“You wanted me?”
My dad sits at his desk at the back of the room. One hand is clasping a glass of what looks like whiskey, while he leans on the other, reading a piece of paper. I sit on the seat in front of him and clear my throat. He doesn’t do anything to acknowledge me. I shake my head, and lean back. Dick.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and go on Instagram. I don’t know how long I’m aimlessly flicking through photos when he finally shifts. His hand falls from his head and he looks at me. I shove my phone back into my pocket, and wait for it.
He leans back in his seat, takes a swig of his whiskey, and sighs loudly through his teeth. We stare at each other for a few seconds before he speaks. “You better not have anything to do with this.”
Fuck. I clench my jaw and look away.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!”
I keep my gaze fixed on the back wall. My heart rate rises, while I listen to his heavy breathing.
“Fuck!” He bangs his desk, and I jolt in my seat, but I still don’t look at him. “I’m not going to keep bailing you out, Hamish. Face me, you coward. Did you hear me? Get your fucking life together.”
I hear his glass touch the table, and I turn back to face him. His dark eyes are piercing mine, and every muscle in his face looks tense. I don’t have anything to say. So I just sit there, which only angers him more. “If you don’t sort your shit out, I’m cutting you off.”
I grip the arms of the sofa. “Is that it?”
He smirks and there’s a pang of fear amongst the anger bubbling inside me. “If you so much as think about having a party here when we’re gone, you’ll be the one who ends up dead, not your druggie friends.”
I grit my teeth and narrow my eyes on his. There’s nothing more I want to do than leap across this table and punch him in the face. He shakes his head, picks up the paper and waves me off. I push myself up out of the seat. “Asshole,” I mutter, as I storm out of the room.
My mom leans against the wall, wine glass in hand. “Honey.”
I glance at her, her drink, then turn in the opposite direction, balling my hands into fists.
“Wait!” She grabs me by the arm, pulling me back, and I slam my fist into the wall punching a hole, and she gasps.
I wince and shake away the sharp spasms shooting down my hand from my knuckles. “I didn’t mean for Sarah to die!”
She’s trembling. Her wine is now on the floor, and both her hands are on my shoulders as she hushes me. “Shh, shhh. It’s okay.” She pulls me into her, and I rest my head on her shoulder.
“I didn’t know. I didn’t know, Mom.”
She holds my neck and rubs her other hand against my back. “Shhh—”
“I’m so sorry.”
We stand there for a few minutes until I get myself together. Thankfully, my dad doesn’t come out.
I step back from her embrace. That was the first time in years I had brought it up. She brushes her finger over my forehead before she wipes my cheeks.
“It’s not your fault.” She forces a smile. “I love you, honey.”
I run my hand through my hair, shake my head, then turn around and pace down the hall.
Maddison
I don’t know what to expect. I know Mr. Barner would have had the room cleaned up, but still, facing him is more daunting than anything I’ve ever done. I feel like I really let him down. With every step I take, my breathing becomes more erratic. The hallways are crowded with people and each person I pass is staring, and not just staring, but looking at me in disgust. Usually, I’m ignored. I didn’t even know so many people knew who I was. Clearly, they had heard what happened. Maybe my face was plastered on the lockers. With the letters: WANTED—Report to Mr. Barner. Oh, God. My stomach clenches.
The window on the door is covered with a rubbish bag.
I rest my hand on the doorknob, and with all the strength I have, push the door open.
Mr. Barner looks up from his chair, and the expression on his face is not at all what I expected. I expected disappointment, anger. Not this. Not concern. His eyebrows knit together, then his eyes widen. He stands from his chair and rushes towards me. I stop in place, and as he reaches me, I look up, and he meets my gaze and says, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
I burst into tears. I thought I’d cried out all the tears I had for the rest of my life, but here I was, at it again. He steps forward and holds me in his arms. The warmth is comforting, but he’s not the comfort I want.
“Thank you for rescheduling my audition,” I mumble.
He squeezes my shoulder. “It’s a week and a half away, Maddy, that’s all the time they would give me.” He looks down at me with sorry eyes. “Will your hand be okay?”
I nod and step back, wiping my face. It has to be okay.
He scowls, and doesn’t move his gaze from mine. “Maddison.”
“I’ll be fine, sir.”
He stares at me for a little longer. When his gaze softens, I let out a breath. He turns and moves back to his desk, pausing in front of the cupboard that used to hold my cello. The hole expands. I destroyed it.
What am I going to use now? I know this school is rich, but I also know Mr. Barner pulled a lot of strings to get that ten thousand dollar cello. I’m sure they wouldn’t agree to let him get another one for me.
“I’m so sorry, sir—”
He holds up his hand, and I can feel the build-up of tears in my eyes again.
He turns back to the cupboard, opens the door, and I’m on the verge of fainting. I blink repeatedly. But what is in front of me, is only getting brighter—or newer; if possible.
I fall forward, stumbling over myself until I reach it.
It’s a brand new cello. It looks a lot more expensive than my previous one. I run my hand down the wood. It’s beautiful.
My mouth opens in shock, and I shake my head. I turn to him, and he furrows his eyebrows.
“Where did you get this from?” he asks.
My mouth shuts, and I stare at him dumbfounded. “You didn’t get this?”
He laughs. “You have to be kidding me. I might work at this school, but I’m not a bloody millionaire.” He folds his arms across his chest. “Did you steal it?” he asks abruptly, and I’m sure my face pales. I don’t know why I’m embarrassed by my extracurricular activities in front of him. I stutter, and he pushes on. “Maddison—”
I quickly cut him off. I don’t want him to think of me in that way. I wouldn’t be that stupid, reckless, and bad. “I didn’t steal it,” I say sharply. How the fuck could I steal a cell
o anyway? It wouldn’t even fit through a window.
“Well, then where the hell did a thirty thousand dollar cello magically appear from?”
Thirty thousand dollars? “I–I . . . I don’t know.”
Then it hits me. The only person who knows about all of this. The person who found me, the person who could probably afford something like this. Kingsley. I turn on my heel and run out the door.
Kingsley
Man up. Dick. Man up.
I push open the music room door to see Mr. Barner sitting at his desk with his head in his hands. My eyes dart to her seat, but it’s bare. “Have you seen Maddy?” I ask quickly.
His eyebrows are pulled together in a permanent frown. “She just left.”
“Do you know where she went?”
“She didn’t say. Why haven’t you—”
“I have to go.”
Where the hell could she be going? I still don’t know where she really lives, but I do know she wouldn’t have gone there. The thought of her going to Cynthia’s crosses my mind, but that’d probably be the last place she’d want to go. I shove open the door, letting it smack against the wall, and pace down the corridor, knocking into people that don’t move out of my way.
I pull out my phone, and my thumb hovers over the call button. I haven’t spoken to her since it happened, and the guilt is eating away inside me. I bite my bottom lip and push the button. I bring it to my ear, as I scan the crowd. It just rings. Fuck.
I should have been there for her. I have to tell her everything, tell her the truth, and I’ll be there for her as long as she’ll let me. I don’t want to think about her ending it, because I know that’s exactly what’s going to happen when she finds out it’s my fault. I jump in my car and start driving. I’m definitely living up to my stalker name now.
It’s getting dark, and I’ve been everywhere. Where the fuck are you, Maddison? I smack the steering wheel, pull over, and listen to the lull of the piano seeping through my speakers. I have no idea where else to look. All I can do is start from the beginning and pray I find her. I swing the car around and head back to school.
I push open the door to the second floor desperately wanting to hear that cello, but what I hear instead tears me apart. I break into a sprint, and as soon as I turn the corner, I see her. She’s leaning against her locker, crying.
As soon as I reach her, I pull her into me. “Baby. Baby, shhh.” She’s shaking.
To touch her, hold her, be near her, feels like my home. I hold her tight. I can’t tell her. If I do, it will ruin this. I know it’s selfish, but I can’t help it. It will destroy her. It will destroy me. It will destroy us, and to protect that, I have to protect her. I stroke her hair, letting her cry into me, and I hum a song I play on the piano.
We slide down the lockers until we’re sitting on the floor, I pull her into my lap, cradling her into my chest. We stay there until the lights flicker out and her crying dissipates to just heavy breathing. When she pulls her head back, everything inside me falls apart. Her eyes are filled with so much pain, it kills me. I scoop her up off the ground, hold her against my chest and walk out of the school just as the cleaners lock up.
I turn on the stereo, letting the sound of the piano blare out over the speaker, and start driving.
She hasn’t said a word. She hasn’t even looked me in the eye since the hallway.
I’m so fucking glad my parents aren’t home because there is no way I’m leaving her. I feel her irregular breathing against my chest as I carry her to my room. I kick open the door and walk her straight to my bed. Before I set her down, I look at her, but her head is tucked into my chest. I close my eyes for a brief second, then slowly lean forward, and she slides out of my arms and onto the bed.
“Do you want to take a shower?”
She still doesn’t make eye contact with me, but shakes her head.
I stay there for a moment, unsure of what I should do. I want to lean forward and kiss her, hold her tight, but I have a feeling that isn’t what she wants me to do. I stand up, grab a bottled water from my bar then place it on the bedside table and make my way to the bathroom. I need to clear my head. I need to get my shit together or I’m going to ruin it.
When I open the bathroom door with my towel in one hand drying my hair, I stop mid-movement when I see her. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed looking like she’s about to make an escape from my balcony, and I can’t let her do that. I can’t let her out of my sight. I drop the towel and walk straight to her. She looks up, and I’m startled when she makes direct eye contact with me. I wish she didn’t because it only makes all those things I was feeling earlier intensify. Her eyes are wide, red and pleading. Pleading for an answer but I don’t have one. What I am going to say to her? How am I going to lie to her?
“Why did you leave me at the hospital?”
I kneel down in front of her, and my gaze is on the floor. I think I’m shaking, but I’m not sure. I know my chest is hurting, and I know when I look up and lie to her it’s going to reciprocate my actions.
“Why haven’t you been there for me?”
I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I can’t lie.
“Where were you when I needed you?” Her voice is louder, shakier.
I squeeze my eyes shut, and then she shoves me backwards.
“Where were you?” she screams as she hits me on the chest. I fall back, and I let her hit me. I let her hit me as much as she can because I deserve so much worse.
When she finally stops, my chest aches but I don’t say anything, and then she falls onto me sobbing. I’m frozen for a moment, but then her sobs shake my bones, and I can’t bear it. I pull myself up and cradle her in my arms. “I’m so sorry, baby,” I murmur against her head. I have to tell her something. I hold her tight as I do something that I know I’ll one day regret. I lie. “My dad took my phone off me and didn’t let me go to school. I’m sorry. I should have been there for you.”
She’s shaking her head, and I wonder if she can see right through it because I know it was the most bullshit excuse ever. “I saw you at the hospital,” she mumbles.
“I couldn’t bear to see you like that.”
“You can’t do that to me again. Kingsley. I need you.”
I hold her tighter. Fuck. I scoop her up and lay her down on the bed, and I slip in beside her. I pull the blankets up and over us both then hold her against me. “I’m here, baby, and I’ll be here for as long as you let me.”
No words are spoken for the rest of the night, and I wonder if she has drifted off to sleep. I hope she has, because if she is wide awake like I am, there is a chance she did see the truth for what it was, and I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.
Maddison
I sit in my seat, the cello resting between my legs, staring off into nothing. It’s been a week since I lost my best friend. My only friend. I lift my bandaged hand to the neck of my cello, wincing as I straighten my fingers and hold them to the strings. I pull up my bow, and with all the strength I have left, I play.
My eyes open to Kingsley sitting in that same spot, across the room, his legs stretched out and that smile across his face. I don’t know what I would have done without him. He jumps to his feet and strides towards me.
“How’s that cello going? They say it’s the best of the best.”
“If I had a working hand, I might actually be able to test that theory.”
“I thought that was pretty good.”
I scoff. “You always say that.”
He takes my cello by the neck, pulls me to my feet and captures my mouth in a kiss. His touch is so tender, I could cry.
The most important thing I realized out of all of this is that each and every person you know will one day be gone, whether they go at their own time, or they are taken far too early. No matter what, life is short. Love whoever loves you, hold onto that love, cherish that love, and don’t give up on that person no matter what. Because every second with them is precious.
I clutch tighter onto Kingsley, and feel him do the same.
“You ready to get that bandage off?” he asks.
“Yes, it’s so fucking annoying.”
He pulls back and snickers. “It’s there to protect you.”
I roll my eyes and groan.
He smiles and slips his hand into my uninjured one. “Come on.”
We walk towards the parking lot, jump in his car and head to the hospital.
Kingsley
The guilt comes again to haunt me. I take a breath. Her bright blue eyes have lightened since Cynthia’s death. Almost as if she is beginning to accept it, but I know they’re not going to stay that way forever. She squeezes me tighter, and my heart feels like it’s about to burst.
God, Maddy, I’m afraid of what’s going to happen to us, I’m so afraid of losing you.
Maddison
“Maddison, how are you feeling?” the nurse asks as we take a seat in her office.
“Fine.”
“She’s still in pain,” Kingsley says, and I scowl at him. I need to be fine for my audition in a few days, and if she says it’s not healed enough, I can’t do it.
The nurse frowns as she takes a look at my hand. Every time she pokes and prods my cuts, I refrain myself from wincing, and as I look up at Kingsley, I know he sees right through it.
“You’re going to have a pretty bad scar.”
“Battle wounds.” I smile, and Kingsley shakes his head. The nurse doesn’t seem to think it’s funny.
“On a scale of one to ten, how’s the pain?”
“About . . .” I pause. Fucking ten! “Three.”
“Three?”
I see Kingsley’s jaw clench, but surprisingly he keeps his mouth shut. “Yup, is that good?”
“That’s amazing. You must have good healing genes.”
Stolen Songs Page 18