Authors Note: Please read Thankyou xx
Hey Guys its Miss H!!
This is my first story on Inkitt. My stories are all standalone’s for now. Please feel free to comment on anything that doesn’t make sense in the chapters, as I may have made a mistake. I try really hard to upload writing that is my best. I won’t post anything if I’m not truly happy with it. Since I am new to writing on Inkitt your feedback is really important to me.
Please stay positive in the comments Constructive criticism is always welcome.
Copyright © 2020 by MissHstories
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express permission of the author. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author is unlawful piracy and theft.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the authors imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Hope you enjoy the story.
(Eight Years Ago)
Music flowed through the room, and down the halls. My fingers pressed delicately on the keys finding the right rhythm.
At this point the ache in my fingertips had travelled up to my wrists, the hours of playing without rest had caused my muscles to tense in an excruciating way. But I couldn’t stop, I had to keep playing.
Then, I felt it, my lapse in concentration. But I continued to play, hopefully he wouldn’t notice.
Once the song came to an end I waited nervously, perching on the edge of the piano stool.
His tall figure emerged in the doorway, the wooden cane in his hand came into view. He walked towards me, gazing down at the piano keys and then to my fingers.
″Did you make a mistake?″ He asked though he already knew I did. I couldn’t lie.
I nodded, my eyes drooping from exhaustion.
″And what happens when you make a mistake?″ He asked, but already knowing the answer to that as well.
I sighed pointlessly; I couldn’t change the inevitable. Swinging my legs over the side of the stool to face him, I put my hands out, palms pointing downwards.
I braced myself just in time as the hard splintering wood of the cane connected with my knuckles. I didn’t cry or scream, just stared into the eyes of my tormentor.
″You skipped the final repetition and played the wrong chord. I do not tolerate laziness. Continue playing until you have done it correctly. There is no place in life for mistakes.″ He ordered.
I hated him. I hated him. I hated him.
I slowly repositioned myself in front of the piano. The only difference from before was the obvious bruising on my knuckles. My whole body ached but I ignored it.
Just as I was about to begin, a cold finger poked into the base of my spine, a reminder to sit up straight. I complied and began to fill the room with music once more.
The unpleasant memories grasped my mind as I stared at the Grand Piano, it was now covered in a thick layer of dust.
The memories of my father pushing me to my breaking point were still as vivid as ever. I remembered how he’d force me to play for people, selling my talent for money.
My father was a drunk, he could never hold a steady job meaning I was the only source of income for us.
With the money I earned we rented a small house, only able to afford the basic essentials, but once my father took what he needed to buy alcohol and drugs, it left us with next to nothing.
I would get scolded daily for not bringing in enough money, the constant abuse had its effect on me over the years.
What made it worse was that I couldn’t just simply ask for help.
I’d be severely punished if I made a mistake during my performance. I still had scars from some of his brutal administrations.
I didn’t play the Piano anymore, not since my whole life changed a few years ago.
My father kept me hidden away after that, only using me when he wanted something, usually money. The rest of the time I wasn’t needed, and he’d just pretend that I didn’t exist.
When my father discovered my true talents, he took me and moved to the other side of the country. He told everyone we knew that I was dead, killed in a car accident.
It was quite easy since I didn’t have any family other than him, my mother had died when I was very young. I didn’t have any memories of her.
I blocked out the unpleasant memories as best I could. When I thought about them too much, I’d fall into a hole of self-destruction.
I inhaled, then exhaled.
My fathers house now, was a lot different to the one I lived in as a young child. It was very large, though I’d never properly seen it.
I wasn’t allowed to leave the attic. That was where he kept me. Like a madwoman in a Victorian novel.
The house was old, first built in the seventeen hundreds. But most of it had been renovated, equipped with modern furnishings and other ridiculous embellishments that ruined its authenticity.
My attic was the only thing in the house left untouched. The only thing which had maintained its beauty.
It had three rooms. One of them was very small, with barely anything in it, I used that as a bedroom. There was another room, windowless, which held a small makeshift bathroom. The final room being, the old library.
The library was my favourite room, it was by far the largest of the three, and took up most of the attic’s space. I spent most of my time in there reading, un-ironically.
My Piano was there too, but I liked to pretend it wasn’t. It was positioned in the center of the room, as if purposefully trying to torment me. It only brought back painful memories...
There was small narrow hallway that went through a gap in the bookshelves. Back when the Library was first built it would have been used as a secret passageway, a quick escape route in case of an attack on the house.
But now it led to a door which was always locked, the only thing connecting the attic to the rest of the house.
Made out of metal, much like a prison cell door it was practically impossible to break open. It had a small hatch that my father used to pass food to me. He often forgot though, sometimes leaving me without food for days.
Before more unspeakable memories could plague my mind, I looked out of the window, in the hopes of finding a distraction.
It was well into the night by now and my eyelids began to get heavy so I crawled onto my bed, a thin mattress on the floor.
As I lay on it I stared at the ceiling, looking through the skylight window at the clouds. I liked to look at the stars too, and find all the different constellations.
I only had two windows in my attic, both bolted shut. The other window was in the library, it was a large bay window, fitted with a window seat, that was my favourite place to be.
But it was dangerous, if I wasn’t careful, I would start thinking about freedom. The wrong kind.
What can I use to break the glass?
The drop was easily eighty feet, there was no way I’d survive the fall... Just jump, then your free.
I had a few thin blankets and a patch work quilt that I cocooned myself in tightly before the cold could get in.
It worked...... Mostly.
I woke up the next morning to the sound of heavy bolts being unlocked.
Dread enveloped me while I sprinted towards the sound knowing it was my father.
Arriving at the attic door I peered through the hatch, only to be met with his grim face. It peered back at me, it was the first human interaction I’d had in about a month, so I was more grateful than I should’ve been.
My father was a large muscular man, but the years of drug and alcohol abuse had its effect on his body.
I quickly placed my wrists through the hatch allowing him to handcuff them, before he got angry at me for being slow.
I don’t know why he bothered he knew I wasn’t strong enough to fight him. But it was always the same routine with him. I knew it by heart.
He then grabbed my arm harshly, dragging me down the stairs, the house hadn’t changed much since I last saw it. That was around six months ago, I think.
″I need you to get us a hundred thousand this time.″ My father ordered me, before opening the door to his office. Once I was inside, he released the handcuffs.
There was a man, rough looking, tied up to a chair. His eyes widened in both shock and confusion when he saw me.
He looked around fifty with tattoos covering every inch of his skin. I tried not to show my fear.
″What the fuck is this?″ He shouted to my father alarmed, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple, his eyes never leaving mine.
My father stared blankly at the man. He was waiting for me to follow his orders.
I breathed deeply as I walked over to him, placing my palm on his cheek.
Once my skin made contact with his I gained the ability to read his mind, I felt his emotions as if they were my own.
His fear, his anger, his betrayal. The sheer strength of them was almost unbearable but I had no choice but to endure it.
I gained control over every part of him, his every action now under my command. That was when I pulled my hand away so my father could untie him.
The man, with a quick look of approval from me, reached for the laptop in front of him, and transferred one-hundred thousand dollars into my father’s bank account.
By this man’s hacking skills, I could tell he was some sort of computer genius. He’d done this before.
Most of the money I stole was dirty even before my father got his hands on it. The fact that I was stealing money from criminals and not innocents made me feel slightly better. Everyone has to have a moral code.
Anyways, that was our game to my dismay. My father would target hackers that worked illegally, he would lure them to our house, I don’t know how, then I would do the rest.
Once I’d used their skills against them, to get whatever my father wanted, I would erase their memory if the whole thing. That’s how we never got caught.
I glanced at the computer screen; the hacker was loading ten million dollars from an account with the surname O’Connor. I hoped that whoever the victim was, still had some money left after this.
Once he’d completed the task, I scanned his mind once more, this time for his memories, until an image of myself appeared, I was blurry, but still there.
I saw in his mind how my eyes especially, captivated him. Whenever I used my abilities, they turned a bright purple colour. I wasn’t sure why.
Once I found what I was looking for, I placed my palm on his cheek again, taking my other hand and placing it on my own cheek, it made our connection stronger.
Erasing memories was more difficult than controlling his mind, it was my least favourite part of the already horrific ordeal, it always gave me a headache afterwards.
I erased his memory of me first, then of the money transaction. It was hard to explain how I did it, as if I’d clicked the delete button in his mind.
I finally released my mental hold on him, he fell to the floor unconscious, that often happened.
My father would dump his body somewhere, before he woke up.
I remembered the first time I’d used my powers; it was completely by accident.
I’d been caught shoplifting, the cops had been called. I was only twelve at the time, but I remembered it like it was yesterday, I always remembered everything.
My father had sent me out to get groceries but the money he gave me wasn’t enough. If I didn’t come home with everything, he wanted I’d be beaten. What other choice did I have?
When the Cops arrived, I was questioned, they were so scary and mean. I kept praying, hoping that I wouldn’t be taken to jail, scared out of my mind.
I remember closing my eyes in despair and imagining I was invisible.
When I opened them again, to my astonishment, everyone was running around like headless chickens trying to find me, saying I’d disappeared...
I was so confused because I was standing right in front of them, they just couldn’t see me.
I didn’t stick around though to question what was happening, instead I took off running, not stopping until I was back home.
The computer beeped letting me know the money transaction was completed. Breaking me out of my flashback.
I walked over to my father, met with an expression that was the definition of ungrateful. Then, I was locked away again, just how it always was.
Days passed; I was alone again, with only my thoughts to entertain me.
I grabbed one of my favourite books. The Wizard of Oz, it was a children’s book, but I loved it. The corners were torn, and the pages creased, the amount of times I’d read the book were evident.
I could practically recite every word of it.
I closed my eyes and visualized the characters one by one. When I opened them, they stood before me.....
The cowardly lion, the brainless scarecrow and the heartless tin man seemed so real. I had to remind myself that they weren’t, that they only existed in my head.
That was another one of my gifts, I could make people see what I wanted them to. And in turn, make them not see other things.
There was only one person whom my abilities had no affect on. My father.
I wasn’t sure why but my powers didn’t work on him. If they did, I’d have been long gone. Free from his grasp. I’d have erased his memory of me, and possibly done worse.
I hoped to escape him one day, but deep down I knew that only one of us would survive in the end.
I gazed out of the large bay window, it overlooked our garden, which I had never been in. I dreamed about it a lot though. Running through the tall grass barefoot, under the warmth of the bright sunshine, I could see it vividly despite the fact that it was dark outside now.
How long had I been staring out the window for?
The last time I’d been outside was at least three years ago, and it was noticeable. My skin was very pale, and my hair almost white.
Some days were worse than others. Whenever I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore, I’d get lost in my head. Like lucid dreaming, but you’re awake.
I had to be careful that I remembered to come back to reality though, because I feared that I’d drive myself to the point of insanity otherwise.
I started to wonder if I was already going insane, because right at that moment I could feel the presence of someone behind me. I could feel their gaze, it caused unwelcome shiver to travel down my spine, as their eyes burned holes in me.
I didn’t dare turn around.
I knew it wasn’t my father, he would have said something. Made his presence known. I decided to ignore them hoping they’d eventually just go away.
But after what felt like an eternity, I could still feel their eyes on me. I plucked up all the courage I could muster and turned my head towards them...
There you have it Chapter One, I hope you liked it.
Please let me know your thoughts and opinions on the story.