Summary: For the past five years, Mackenzie Holt has been abused by her drunk of a father. While he found solace in causing her physical anguish, she found sit in Bellpree Theatre. Abandoned and hard to spot, she was sure no one had been there in decades. That is, until Dylan Ryland walked in, causing her to be torn between making her first friend and pushing him away. Not that he's making the choice easy for her. On top of pretending that nothing is going on at home, trying to not upset her father, work, do well in school, and learn piano, Mackenzie has to make sure that the ever persistent Dylan never finds out her dirty little secret. (Warning- this has a fair bit of violence in it.)
I rose my head slowly from the carpet as I watched my father lumber unsteadily toward the basement stairs with a bottle of vodka in his hands. Until I was certain he was all the way downstairs, I waited to push myself off the dirty off-white carpet. If he saw that I was fine, he may have wanted to come and finish the job.
Once the basement door slammed loudly, I hopped up and piratically jetted my way out of my house. It was always a relief to leave the house. I did feel a bit lightheaded, though, but it was so common for me I didn't even bother to let it slow me down.
I arrived at my destination soon enough. I knew the pathway so well I could have walked it with my eyes closed. The familiar wired fence that caged in the theater was old and rusted, but I bent over a bit and squeezed myself through a hole, which probably once was a functioning gate, albeit many, many years ago. Once I got in, the feeling of home rushed over me.
Bellpree Theatre, when I first saw it, completely took my breath away. About two hundred seats faced a large stage in a 'U' shape and the hardwood floor was surprisingly shiny, but looked old at the same time. But, there, sitting on top of that large stage was what really kept drawing me in: a beautiful, black, six-foot grand piano.
I remembered the first time my fingers trailed on those piano keys: a slightly off key 'C' note rang throughout the theatre. I had never touched a piano before, but I instantly fell in love with the way my finger hit that note.
Now, a year later, I was opening the piano bench, pulling out a book that contained the newest song I learned. Just yesterday I was able to get myself through the whole song with absolutely no mistakes. It sounded pretty cool, in spite of the fact that the piano was way out of tune.
My fingers danced on the piano with a graceful ease as I played Ellmenreich's "The Spinning Song." However, when I got to the middle of the song, I stopped abruptly and dropped my hands into my lap.
There was a silence in the theater, except for the faint sound of the breeze blowing through the tree leaves outside. I could have sworn I had heard footsteps!
I didn't want to take a chance, so I dashed behind the curtains. At that exact moment, the rusty door opened with a soft groan. I didn't hear anything for about ten seconds, but I wasn't dumb enough to dismiss the door opening as the wind.
As if confirming my suspicions, a voice spoke. "Hello, is anybody here?" someone asked tentatively. He was obviously a male. He sounded like he was in his late teenage years, since his voice was kind of deep and didn't crack every few words.
"Okay..." he whispered to himself, and then talked out to the theatre... well, me, I guess. "I know I wasn't just imagining you playing, so I'm just going to say you're pretty good." Despite myself, I smiled.
I could hear his voice getting closer to the stage, which meant he was getting closer to me. I backed up farther behind the curtain so I could hide behind curtain perpendicular to the previous one.
The guy stood in front of the piano and his fingers trailed across the keys. It was obvious he knew how to play piano from the few complicated measures he played.
"Damn, this piano is really out of tune," he thought out loud, blowing out a low whistle. "You should really get that fixed. But seeing as we're in an abandoned theater, maybe not.
"You can't hear the piano from very far— I heard a very small sound and it sounded like it was coming from here, and I kept walking toward it. The doors keep most of the sound in, so no one can hear you playing. I should get going, I'm probably creeping us both out, so..." he explained, trailing off lamely.
Cautiously, I inched my eye out past the curtain so I could get a look at him. It wasn't my brightest idea, but I needed to see who I was dealing with. He seemed vaguely familiar with obviously messy chestnut brown hair hanging down to the middle of his neck and his completely relaxed stance. He hopped off of the stage and walked to the door closing it softly. I had a feeling that this wouldn't be the last time he stepped through those doors.
A/N: I'm going to be updating this story every five days. It's almost done, but I feel like a bit of pressure would make me write it faster. Thanks for reading :)