Walking In The Shadows

Chapter 1

Ariyah

Imagine waking to an enchanting and mesmerizing tune that rang throughout the house. One that vibrated with a soft beckoning. It was beautiful and familiar, but also foreign. Every now and again there would be certain keys that struck my attention and called to my soul. The melody beckoned out as it did so many times in the past.

By following the sound, I came to a room that hosted a woman playing the piano. The grand beast roared to life as slender fingers danced along the keys. She had a golden ring on her left hand that glimmered in the moonlight. Her black hair tinted a deep blue reminded me of the raven that loved to perch on the old Oak tree outside the window. The white dress that draped lightly on her ivory skin invited the gentle touch of an angel's feather. Just one look at her oceanous eyes had me holding my breath. Such a fragile frame of beauty and grace; yet, a life that has met bitter days and known sorrowful emotion.

Instantly, the beautiful specimen was gone. If it were not for the vibrating chords that continued to give birth to the alluring sound, then I would have believed that my eyes were playing tricks. I racked my mind trying to recall why this woman had such a strong appeal to me, but there was never an answer.

Instinctly, I moved one foot after another closing the distance between the gorgeous sound and myself. With each step, there was an uneasy feeling that caused my stomach to churn and flip. While on the other hand, I could feel every fiber of my being calming down and being left in a state of bliss.

As I stood before the piano with a longing desire to play, there was a debate rampaging my thoughts on whether I fall victim to my desires or turn away from my wants. Without knowing whether to ignore the urge or to succumb, my fingers lingered  above the keys. With one of my weakest virtues, patience, I became prisoner to what I once remembered.

All day, my mind thought back to the beautiful sound that wanted to be remembered. I could not process any lesson that was taught in class. People were just figures that walked the halls. Until after lunch when my patience was tested. There was a student playing music on their phone inbetween class that took me past the breaking point. Immediately, I left the room and walked up stairs to the old abandoned music room. My savior was standing by a window on the far left hand side overlooking the courtyard. As a way to prove how weak my patience truly is, my fingers dragged along the rows tapping one key at a time as they hit their target. Music streamed through the air once more in the room as each chord was born.

When I was a child, I lived for music and piano. It was my purpose for the sun to rise and set within my days. Just like then, the rhythm came naturally, entrancing my mind in a state of memories that I could not escape. Orchastrating each movement was an act of art that allowed emphasis on notes to cry to its audience. As the master, the key was to break the walls and set myself free. When the composer is damaged so is their companion. With each minute that played on, I ignored the signals demanding for classes to change.

Hours came and left and it was late in the evening, way passed school to be let out. Throughout all the keys my fingers touched, it was only now that I realized the music was the same as the mysterious woman from this morning. While clearly puzzled, the coincidence slipped from my thoughts when a loud clapping sound thundered in the silence. Turning to the source, I found that it was none other than Deamon.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in class?"

He shrugged his shoulders as he leaned against the door and rolled his eyes. "Well maybe if someone actually attended, they would know that school ended four hours ago."

Shaking my head in annoyance, I turned back to the piano with a slight smile. Memories resurfaced and showed me that I still had warmth in my life even if it was frozen in ice. I sighed and gathered my bag off of the floor with an ache forming in my right wrist. Thinking it was nothing, I pushed the stole back thinking it was nothing. However, when I stood there was a slight irritation that snaked from my shoulder and coursed its way up to my head. Once again, I pushed the issue to the side. Not having time for disturbances, I walked out the door and into the hallway.

Before I could take any more steps, a hand clasped around my wrist. Turning, I drew back my arm ready to strick, but the rapid movement caused dizziness that was dragging me down fast.

Do it.

The voice that I met when I was alone and afraid was back. Without questioning why the voice had left and chose now to return, I obeyed its command. I stood back on my feet and brought my forearm to his neck. At first, it was just a slight push but the more he struggled and the angrier his face formed, the harder I pressed against his windpipe. This led to Deamon hitting his head against the door he was previously leaning on.

You must do it or he will take you back. Just like all the others, he hates you and will do everything to destroy you.

I smirked to the words. "I am not a fool." My body felt ecstatic with the actions that were being displayed. Faintly, I heard a high pitch that brought a ringing in my ears. Although, the sound was nothing but a nuisance that I disregarded. Moving my arm around, I brought my hand around his throat. I could feel each finger dig into the skin. Squeezing tighter, each swallow Deamon made only increased my excitement.

You're almost there.

"Ari...yah."

I chuckled with his struggling attempt. Yet, for a split second after I heard my name, I relieved pressure.

What are you doing!? He is going to hurt us. Quickly, do the job.

Without any further thought, I once again pressed hard on Deamon's throat. I could see the feaer in his eyes that demanded for it to be quick but at the same time nothing but a nightmare. This alone shook my body with pure happiness. 'They won't get me again.' Raising my arm, I aimed for his heart and shoved my fist through the air.

AN:
Who could the mysterious voice belong to? Why would it have left in the first place? Perhaps it is her conscious.

Who are the people from before and what did she do? Us?

Well, it looks like Deamon is in trouble.

#Edited