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Mirrored Cuts
Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Sitting in a practice room with my cello, everything felt foreign. I ran my fingers down the side, trying to keep my instrument and myself below the lowering bar of chaos. I picked up my bow and I slid it across the strings, feeling it screech in protest. I begged it to let me play the Moldau. I began again feeling the simple melody rush over me like the river it was supposed to embody the spirit of.

I let my fingers do the work, keeping my mind from interfering. Freed from providing the entertainment, my homunculus wandered, settling itself amongst the couch cushions of memory and flipping on the internal screen. My brother’s face gazed up at me, red and blotchy from crying. It was still present from my last guilt trip. Take me with you, he had said. I didn’t have an answer to his real question. What will happen when you go? I couldn’t stomach it. I wanted to tell him that I had tried.

“He could go to a school nearby,” I had offered, after bargaining for an hour to get him into a boarding school. “We could live together. He wouldn’t be alone.”

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“Your father won’t pay for it.” She had refused.

I felt my heart wither. Money isn’t power, but it sure does seem like it some days. “We’ll run away. You won’t be able to find us.”

“I’d like to see you try,” she said. “If you stop bringing this up now, I won’t tell your father. But the law is on our side.”

The song grew through the low notes, rising to the tension with a grace that only water could embody. The next face was Flint’s, and then John’s. Flint’s grin was just that while John’s smile could put the clinically depressed at ease. I could feel their smiles melt away as they understood who I was. They walked away. You’re not worth it. We knew it the whole time. I know that, I said, my fingers working the strings faster, sliding my bow harder, splitting some of the hairs in half. I dragged my bow across the last notes, holding them for longer than I should have, hoping that by prolonging the song, I would keep them with me for just a bit longer. The last note hung in the air. When I exhaled, it blew away like mist.

I tried some of my scales. I didn’t need any more memories.