Prologue:

Viola hated the sunlight, she always had. It was as almost its rays sucked the talent from her hands. Leaving her nothing more than a sloppy mumbling mess attempting to create a beautiful melody, but instead recreates the cries of a dying moose. Darn shame really, to be named after a beautiful instrument and only be able to play it a certain time of day. She felt a tinge of resentment towards the burning star in the sky, she felt as though it was mocking her, like the heat radiating from it was solely created to bother her. She tried to pay it no mind and concentrate solely on the sheet of music she was trying to play, but to no avail.

Perhaps, her hatred towards the sun was due to her heritage.

She let out a light sigh and placed her viola gently on her shoulder. At a slow pace, she raised her bow and lightly ran the bow against the G string. Instantly, the beautiful cry of the instrument rang into her ears. The goose bumps of pleasure instantly rose from her skin. A single note was more than enough to send her into ecstasy. However, the pleasure-giving note suddenly let out a hideous squeak.

Snapped from her happy trance, she let out a nasty hiss and practically threw her bow onto the couch. She still held her instrument roughly on her shoulder, despite the pain that the shoulder pad caused her collar bone and the uncomfortable feeling of her chinrest piercing into her jaw. Her hand roughly squeezed the finger board, as if attempting to hurt the wooden object in her hands. She held that position for a while, but suddenly in a jerking motion, she raised the instrument above her head, positioned to throw the viola onto the floor with great force.

Even so, she still held the viola above her head, as if some invisible force is preventing from letting her throw the instrument to the ground and watching it break into billions of little pieces. She tried to fight this force, but resistance proved futile.

Viola lowered her wooden possession, and stared deeply at it, as if attempting to read the mind within it that doesn't exist. This object was too precious to her, it was like her best friend, she was born with it, and planned to die with it. No matter how many times she lost her temper and wanted to smash it, she could never go through with it.

Its black wood made it all the more enchanting. She lightly traced her fingers on the carvings of roses that covered her instrument.

"Creating music takes patience, darling." Viola instantly recognized the voice of her mother. Her mother always had a habit on showing up when people least expected it. Viola turned and instantly saw the scarlet shine that her mother's hair gleamed in the light. Calera's most prominent feature had always been her dark crimson hair. Viola adored its color; it reminded her of the dark color of blood, but in a good way.

Viola twirled her own mocha brown hair in her fingers. Always embarrassed when her temper is witnessed by others, she looked shyly on the ground. "I always play perfectly at night. I try; I really do….why not during the day?"

Calera's bright green eyes stared into her daughter's Sapphire ones. "I am a sure you will surpass this obstacle one way or another." Calera eyes then moved to the instrument in Viola's arms. "When you woke us at the dead of night with your crying, the only thing that would get you to sleep was the sound of a viola. Even when I was pregnant, you only kicked when you heard a viola; the essence of that instrument is in your blood. It is your identity. Have some patience, dear."

Viola trusted her mother down to every fiber of her being. Calera was right, Viola needed to control her temper and be patient.