ayeesa111
|• history shouldn't stop you •|

The burning at the back of his eyes caused the overflow of his tears to thicken. He bit his lower lip to stop himself from screaming, the bottled-up screams swirled into a whirlpool of hate and longing — hate towards his father, Clove Specimen and longing towards his mother, Camilla Specimen. His aunt, Candace, was there for him through his worst times. She cared for him like his mother did which made him wonder how his father and Candace were siblings.

He sat beside his mother's piano, she had loved playing it. When she did, you could feel the sun shine from within her. Something in cusp sprinkled white magic dust which urged her to learn to stretch her wings like Marilyn Monroe in 1951; a woman of success.

He closed his eyes to reminiscence in the soft melody which danced along the keys of the piano whilst his mother's harmonious voice rang through his ears as she sang patched up history, a song written by him. He recalled the lyrics.

I'll chisel my bones to shape,
So you can walk across this lake,
And rest in my arms, which I reach out for you.

Be my history, my past is for you.
Every future is the craft of its past,
Like how you held my heart when it disintegrated to dust,
But you never gave up, you patched it right back up.

Patch up our history so my love could be forever thees,
I have no one in heart, just one who won't look at me no more.

I'll love you like stars do to dreams,
I'll hold to close so you could hear my heart beat,
I'll make you mine and only mine,

Just patch up our past so we could be together.
Just patch up our history —

He abruptly stopped singing. He felt the presence of someone lingering behind him, it was cold and sullen. Croy slowly inched his fingers towards the poker stick which lay neatly at the feet of the piano. Clenching his jaw, he gradually dragged it out, lifting it slightly so it wouldn't make contact with the marble tiles beneath him. The beating of his heart scared him; Croy hadn't imagined it to be so loud. He wondered what Candace would say in this situation.

She'd tell you to calm your raging heart, fear is just a figment of your imagination. You can control it like the brain controls you because it's not truly present; fear is a mere illusion.

He was going to be brave, cowardice had already killed his mother; he wouldn't let it kill him too. He promised his mother he'd always live life to the fullest for her.

"It's only me, son." Grumbled a hoarse voice.

Croy turned around to meet his father's unhappy eyes, "Father?"

He sat beside Croy, his frame unstable and his hands shaking, "You and this piano have something in common. She named you after it." His voice shook as he gestured towards the piano, "I fell in love with her because of you, Croy."

Croy's forehead creased in confusion, "Me? Why me?"

He sniffed, "I met her one day in our college's dark auditorium. I liked sitting in the dark. But that day, there was someone in there. It was a rainy day, she was drenched in water; her skin glistened under the light coming from the one and only window in there." He smiled at the memory, it was a beautiful memory. He missed her, he missed her enough to forget she was gone.

"Then what?" Croy had longed for this moment, the moment where his father would sit beside him and talk, the moment he'd talk about something important — something valuable. Something other than science, something human.

He smiled at his son, he saw the yearning in his eyes, "And then she started playing, she played a song I had written in my notebook and later misplaced. It was called broken futures."

How ironic, a son writes about fixing the past and a father talks about fixing the future, what had happened to the present?

A grin transformed on Croy's lips, he was more like his father than he thought, "And then?" He urged Clove.

Clove sighed, "And then I fell in love with her. She fell for my words and I fell for her voice and rhythm which was produced by her fingers. Do you know what the name of this piano is?"

"Yes, its name is Croy. You just told me." Croy brushed the tips of his fingers over the surface of the piano, he had been named after it, and it filled him with joy but also jealousy. He didn't want to be equated with an object. He wanted to be the one and only Croy in the eyes of his mother, "What about you, what did you want to name me?"

"I wanted to name you Abel, after the greatest scientist in the world. I wanted you to be like him."

"Why?"

Clove stared intently at his now fifteen year old son, "Because I wanted you to be able to explain to me why I mattered, why someone like me matters in this world."

Croy felt a pang of pain, he never knew of the dreams his father had. He felt ashamed, he always set forward to hurt him, never thinking once that Clove only wanted to be a loved father, just like Croy wanted to be a loved son.

"You matter because you are a father, a man who helped humanity remain. I'm sorry dad, I never loved you like I should—"

"No, Croy, don't blame yourself, it is I who should apologise. Please forgive me." He pleaded.

"Father don't, we are family and family always sticks together." He reached over and drowned his father in a hug, "I love you dad and I promise I'll be a better son and I won't fail you."

The hug was warm and loving. Croy's words were muffled in his father's chest, "Father, I have a question."

"What is it son?" He let go of Croy and looked at him with concern.

"Aunt Candace said mum died from a heart attack, but I have a feeling...I don't know, I think that's not the case." He didn't know how to explain what he felt. Something was wrong; he could feel it under his flesh, in his bones.

"You doubt your aunt?" Clove seemed surprised.

"No, I—forget it. It was just a feeling." He smiled at his father, "Let's go and get some ice cream."

"Okay!"

Your doubts were right son, if only you investigated, you would know that your mother never had a heart attack, she was murdered and I knew.

Clove kept his thoughts to himself, he finally had his son to himself, and he wanted to enjoy it.

—

What do you think? So many secrets, sometimes I forget that I'm dealing with twisted people.

Can you betray your family to feel more loved?