After a month of not touching me in any way shape or form, Father sat me down and said
“Spielen das Cello;” his in German, his accent was normally noticeable, but using his language at me showed me he had slight respect for me. I took the Cello out of his case for the very first time since Joshua gave it to me.
As I rest him against me, for a split moment of joy overwhelmed me. I could feel the essence of Joshua as soon I picked up the bow. I felt guided towards the notes; instinctively I know how to play.
Father pulled the Cello off me.
“You’re finished!” His tone was angry, and hard to understand. I carefully lowered the Cello into his home with great care, this only irritated Father further. He knew I belonged to the Cello and with Joshua and not with him and his family.
Over the next few weeks, I became very sick... I already knew why...
Eventually Mother took me to Doctor as if she did not know what was already wrong from all the expulsion of my stomach content every few moments.
YOU ARE READING
Short Story: Cello
Short StoryA story about a young lady who is emotionally and physically abused by her so called "Father." This is the Short Story of Tarja's life...
