The Secret Songs of D.C. Silverenn

Chapter Ten

I stumble in my heels as loud laughter pours from me. Emi elbows me, though she has an equally large grin on her face.

"Shh, you'll wake the whole apartment complex," she giggles.

My heels make a clanging sound on the metal stairs. I clutch the rail, feeling paint peel back under my palm. The warm night breeze plucks at my hair and refreshes my lungs. It's the perfect evening. I haven't enjoyed myself this much in a long time. I was feeling the music tonight during our performance, and the people around me seemed to like it, too. One even expressed interest in hiring us for an upcoming event, though no offers were formally proposed.

Emi's arm, the one not attached to her violin case, reaches back in a stretch. "Ah, I know I'll sleep well tonight."

I feel the same way. The night's adrenaline is wearing away, and I know I can fall asleep in pure happiness. Maybe this is the turning point in my life. Maybe things are looking up. I really hope so. I've been so tired for so long, and I just want things to stabilize.

The five-story climb ends. Emi's keys jingle as she slides them into the lock and opens the door. I flip the light switch on my way in, scattering the dark from the living room. My viola case and purse drop at the door along with my kicked-off heels. I'll put them away properly in the morning.

"I think I could use some tea," Emi says. "Just to settle me down completely for the night. How about you?"

"Sure." My mind probably should pacify a bit before I can totally fall asleep. I step into my bedroom and start toward my closet door. I'm halfway across the room when I halt. All I can do is blink at the closed door.

Didn't I leave it open? I always leave it open. I'm too lazy to shut it. Did I shut it absentmindedly after getting ready? But that doesn't make sense. Why would I do that?

It's nothing, I tell myself. Just get ready for bed.

My feet are stuck to the ground. They refuse to move any closer to the closet. I inhale a deep breath, trying to expel my anxiety. I'm not one for breathing techniques, but a slow exhale never hurts. For a moment, a sense of calm floods through me. There's nothing to worry about; all I need to do is get ready for bed.

My eyes shift away from my desk, back to the door, and apprehension stiffens me once more. Slowly, my legs unstick enough for me to turn to face the door. Maybe a nice mug of tea will restore my senses.

Rustling air freezes me mid-step. A million eyes bear into my back. I feel an urge to run, to get as far away from my apartment as possible, but I'm paralyzed. So I listen, tuning my ears to the slightest disturbance.

This is nonsense. You're just paranoid. Water whistles in the other room, and it stops a moment later, leaving silence in its absence. The stillness is drawn tighter. I'm acutely aware of the twitches in my fingers and legs, which are bent toward the door. And then I hear it, the softest breaths, in and out, in and out.

Someone's in my room. I'm sure of it. Thoughts tear through my head. Call the police. Tell Emi. Get the heck out of here.

Silverenn.

The music should be the least of my worries. Yet somehow, I can't bear to leave them in here, knowing someone else could find them.

"Cerise, your tea is ready," Emi's muffled voice calls. It snaps me into action, forces my limbs to move. I don't reply, my throat is too dry for that. But I hurry to my desk, opening the top drawer. I sandwich the folder between two Suzuki books and hurry from my room, shutting the door behind me.