All The Right Notes

Chapter 1: The Letter

"Expectation is the root of all heartache" ~ William Shakespeare

I was lying on my bed, the soft hum of my headphones blasting my favorite music, the sound waves swirling around me, hoping to drown out everything beyond the walls of my room. The curtains were drawn tightly, their fabric a shield against any sliver of light that might seep in from the outside world. I preferred it that way—quiet, dark, and contained. No one could see me through the window, and I couldn't see them, which gave me a sense of peace like I was tucked away in a small, private universe all my own.

Lost in the pages of the book I was reading, I let the words pull me deeper into the story. But then, something caught my eye. Out of the corner of my vision, I noticed a figure standing in the doorway. My heart skipped for a second before I realized it was Dad. He stood there, holding a large package in his hands, his gaze fixed on me with a soft, almost reverent expression. There was something warm and unspoken in his eyes—pride, adoration, maybe even a touch of wonder—as he looked at me. It was a moment that felt suspended in time like the world outside of the darkened room had momentarily stopped spinning.

"Hey," I paused my music and took out my earbuds sitting up straight in bed.

"Hey, bee," Dad said softly, his voice warm with affection. He made his way over to the bed, his footsteps muffled against the carpet and sat down beside me. Gently, he reached out and ran his hand through my hair, giving it a playful ruffle that sent a few strands tumbling across my face. I smiled, trying to hide the way his small gestures always seemed to make everything feel just a little more right.

Out of the three of us kids, I was the only girl. I had Blake, my older brother, who was always the practical one, and Bentley, my younger brother, who never seemed to run out of energy. My parents had an interesting way of naming us. Despite neither of them having names that started with a 'B,' they somehow decided that all three of their children should share that theme. Blake, my big brother, was probably the only one who wasn't named after something. Bentley, though, was named after a luxury car, a symbol of elegance and power. As for me? Well, my name wasn't just any name—it came straight from the pages of a fairy tale. I was named Briar, after Briar Rose, the true name of Sleeping Beauty, the princess who pricked her finger and fell into a deep, fateful sleep.

"So what brings you in here?"I questioned wanting to know what was in the package in his hand.

"It was addressed to you, so I am merely delivering it," he handed it to me without question but remained seated at the end of my bed.

"Are you going to stay or leave?" I really needed the support after reading about the place where the package came from.

"Stay. Do you want me to call the rest of them in?" He asked as he pointed to the door. I nodded my head and held the package as though it was a bomb and by opening it I would be disarming it.

"Blake! Bentley! Sally! Come to Briar's room!" Dad shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth, his voice echoing through the house. The command had barely left his lips when we could hear the unmistakable thundering of footsteps—like a small herd of elephants stampeding up the stairs. My room, usually a quiet sanctuary, was quickly invaded by the chaos of my family.

My mom appeared in the doorway first, her hair slightly disheveled and her eyes wide as if she'd just been jolted out of a deep thought. Her hands were still holding onto a half-folded laundry basket, her expression somewhere between frazzled and panicked, as if she had no idea what she was walking into. Blake was next, his face set in a scowl, eyes narrowed with that familiar look he gave when he was on the verge of losing patience. It was the look that could cut through steel, and I could practically feel the tension radiating off him. Finally, Bentley sauntered in, his eyes glued to some unseen drama, his mouth slightly agape as though he was watching the latest episode of his favorite soap opera.