Blair O'Connor was the life of every party-popular, fearless, and always the center of attention. But behind the perfect image was an abusive boyfriend who slowly stripped away the girl she used to be.
After finally breaking free, Blair transfers...
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I loved music.
I hadn't played piano in ages. Connor ruined that for me.
But sitting here in the music room at school, surrounded by the quiet hum of instruments waiting to be played, I realized just how much I'd missed it. The polished keys of the old upright piano gleamed under the soft light, almost calling to me. My fingers itched to touch them, to let muscle memory take over and bring melodies to life again.
I hesitated, though. Just the thought of playing stirred up an uncomfortable weight in my chest. Connor's voice echoed in my mind, sharp and dismissive, like it always did when I tried to do something for myself.
"You're wasting your time," he'd sneered once, leaning against the doorframe as I practiced. His voice was full of that cold, mocking tone that made every note I played feel wrong. "No one wants to listen to you plonk away at that thing. You're embarrassing yourself."
He'd said it so many times that eventually, I stopped. Closed the lid, walked away, and told myself it didn't matter. That I didn't need music, didn't need the piano. Didn't need anything.
But here I was, staring at the same kind of piano I used to lose myself in, and for the first time in a long time, the thought of playing didn't feel stupid or pointless. It felt like... freedom.
I took a deep breath and slowly sat down on the bench, letting my hands hover over the keys. My fingers twitched, unsure. It had been so long—what if I'd forgotten how?
I pressed a single note, the sound cutting through the stillness of the room. It was quiet, hesitant, but it was mine. I tried another, then another, piecing together a melody I barely remembered, and before I knew it, my hands were moving on their own, coaxing the music back to life.
Each note felt like peeling away another layer of Connor's grip on me, like I was taking back something he'd stolen.
Slowly becoming myown person again.
When the song ended, I sat back, my heart racing, my hands trembling slightly. It wasn't perfect, but it didn't have to be.
For the first time in ages, I felt like me again.
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