The Glass Harmonica (Custos Trilogy, Book 1)

Chapter One-Lexie

J.S Marie

All right reserved. Copyright 2015 ©

"I hate him." A frustrated sigh swirls out in a breath as I enter the building. Frigid with moist drops clinging to my soaked clothing, I reluctantly climb the stairs to my flat.

Once inside the safe, warm confines of my home, I unleash the mighty rage I hold deep inside, a fury of screams and profanities. I'm sure my neighbors can hear my thunderous roar, but I don't care. Let my agony pierce their ears. Ever since leaving school grounds, I desperately tried to contain my searing temper like a hot iron waiting to brand the next soul I encounter. There is now nothing to stop me from letting loose.

As my rampage dies down, an icy shiver convulses my body already chilled by my soaking uniform. Breathing heavily, my tear stricken face looks around the deserted family room. I wish Robert will just die.

The deafening silence in the empty flat brings back the events of the day. Music is my only haven on earth where my soul can be away from the likes of the jerk, Prince Robert. Today, they took my only solace and flushed it straight down the toilet, completely losing grasp on my Eden. Practicing piano like any other day straight after classes, I was suddenly bombarded by a downpour of ice water. Robert's top henchman, Peter and James, sheepishly held an empty bucket over my drenched, black hair. It only got worst from there, it is raining and I had no bloody umbrella.

I flinch at the poisonous memory trying hard not release another tantrum. Without prolonging any further at the entrance, I strip out of my soaking blazer and slump on the welcoming sofa. I am so tired and body aches, visiting the very pit of hell.

Music. It's my escape from reality. The melodies and rapid motion of fingers calm all the marrow in my bones and makes the world right again like so many years ago. With music, an embrace of notes wrap around me as strong, sturdy arms, protecting me from dark thoughts. For a millisecond lost in the music, my father holds me close, looking down with cherishing eyes. His smile floats into the air evaporating as the music sadly always ends. It's been over twelve years since his death, but I can still live in the wake of his strong scent of spice and Irish. His knightly smile still burns a crisp, fresh-off-printing image in my head. Music makes me his princess again even though he is buried deep beneath the earth.

Unconscious tears almost choke me, making me gag in surprise. I stretch out my long, agile fingers as if preparing to play the piano, imagining my father's hand is guiding my movement like forever ago. I instantly clench my hands into a tight fist, baring a snarl of teeth at the memory of Robert. They can all go to hell.

Instead of letting another tidal wave control my thoughts, I move towards my room to trade uniform for pajamas before heading to the kitchen to make a cup of tea The steam emanating from the boiling kettle smacks my face making the crusty trail of mascara down my cheek more prominent, a mixture of tears, rain, and ass-hole. I don't care that I clearly look like rubbish. With my brewed mug, I sit back down on the snug sofa, letting out a heavy exhale of air. I spend minutes in silence, sipping the scalding beverage. Cup now empty, my tired gaze wanders to a few picture frames settled on the end table. Like some male model flawless and perfect, my father squints with a jovial smile, baring straight white teeth. His face is practically identical to mine with my same blue eyes. His blonde tufts of hair like combed straw barely reaches past his ears. In the photo, he is holding the three-year-old version of me in his lap. My eyes are still the marvelous cerulean blue, but in place of my current jet, black hair, I was Goldilocks blonde.