Sweetener

Whitney

Jabbing the key in the hole, I walked inside our home. The silence was deafening. The only thing I could hear was my heart rapidly beating. I dropped the keys on the flat, round glass container that my father placed to put all the keys in.

I exhaled heavily, my c.h.e.s.t falling flat. I swallowed the lump that had formed and proceeded to the kitchen to drink a glass of water. The cold liquid relieved my dry throat, and my eyes shut to relish the feeling. My hand tightly gripped the glass when I was done, staying that way for a few minutes before I put it in the sink. 

What happened in the choir room left me hazy. Making my way to my bedroom, I plopped down on the bed and clenched my eyes shut.

The whole day I had been avoiding Blair and her friends, yet not too long ago I sat next to her and played the piano, which was something I had never done with anyone before. Not even with my own parents.

My uncle saw me eyeing the thing at his house when I was seven. He and I had never been close until then. My uncle Richard was a rich man who my father never really liked, although they were grew up together.

"Do you wanna learn how to play?" he had asked me, holding up a cigarette with his right hand. If my father saw him smoking near me, I was sure that he would have dragged my mother and I out of his place that instant.

Not waiting for my answer, he led me near the piano and he started playing some classic piece by Chopin. I fell in a trance by the way his fingers moved and the music that filled my ears. Seven year old me stood enchanted as he played and that was the day I discovered my love for music.

Afterward, he persuaded my father into allowing me for piano lessons. When uncle Richard passed away that same year, I continued to play, with the hope of making him proud wherever he was.

My mother saw the way my uncle was with me when I played with him. He didn't have a wife nor did he have any children, and she told me that he probably saw me as a child of his own. Thinking about it, I realized just how sad his life actually was.

When Blair asked me to play, I had no idea know what to say. It was my first time playing for someone, and out of fear, I only did what she asked.

I sighed, rolling over to face the ceiling. Next time, she told me. There was going to be a next time? I shook my head, a yawn slipping out. My eyelids started to droop and the exhaustion rolled up, coaxing me into slumber.

About an hour later my phone rung, waking me up from my sleep. I g.r.o.a.n.e.d, frustrated at the sudden interruption. I grabbed the phone from my nightstand, only to see 'Dad' on the the caller ID.

"Yeah, dad?" I grumbled, rubbing the sleep out my eyes. To my surprise, it wasn't my father's voice that greeted me, but a woman's. That made me sit up.

"Is this Whitney Montgomery? This is Susan from St. Peters Hospital, I'm sorry to inform you this but your father's been in an accident."

"What?" my mouth hung open in shock. I felt all nerves in my body shoot up, and I got up from my bed right away. "Is he gonna be okay?"

"Yes, there's a high chance that he'll be fine. His girlfriend is here staying with him right now." I chose to ignore the girlfriend part, only focusing on the fact that he was alright.

"Okay um- I'll be on my way then." my words were rushed when I hung up the call. Snatching the car keys, I slipped on some slippers and ran to the car.

My hands were shaking as I drove to the hospital. I was afraid that he could have been seriously hurt, and I couldn't stand the thought of losing another family member. I silently prayed to God in my head, begging Him not to take my dad too.

I let out a shaky breath, forcing myself to calm down. When I arrived, I asked the nurses where he was and they showed me the way to his room.

The door opened to reveal my father hooked up on tubes, covered in scars and bruises. I felt my heart drop at the sight. Conflicted, I failed to notice the woman that sat in the corner, clutching her purse and staring at me cautiously.

Tears welled in my eyes and I took a seat next to the bed he was on, distraught. The woman then walked up to where I was with a strong expression. She looked familiar, I thought.

"You must be Whitney. Your father has mentioned you a couple times, " she started. There was something iffy in her tone. I nodded. "I'm Stephanie Westwood, the woman he's currently seeing."