The Violin (TEMPORARILY ON HOLD BECAUSE MAN, THIS BOOK SUCKS.)

Soundless

The clock bongs, halting my tears. My sadness is half-gone now, and I feel Dad smiling down on me, proud of me for smiling through the sadness.

I pick up my violin from my lap and carefully set it into my case, blowing it a little kiss as I walk out of the door. I chuckle at my silly attempt to lighten my mood.

I have to pick up a lot of things. The competition is tomorrow, and I still have not collected my performance dress.

I brush a remaining tear from my cheek, take my wallet from the dining table and pile into dad's car. I hope you won't mind me driving your car, Dad, I think.

I stick the key into the engine and turn it once. The engine purrs softly, and I rest my hands on the cool leather of the steering wheel. I give a deep breath, remembering the time Dad taught me how to drive. 

"Violet, this is the brake, this is the gear," Dad explained, his patient voice warming me up from the inside even though it was the coldest winter I had ever experienced.

"Okay, Dad," I said, putting my feet on the pedals.

"Try driving down the road, to the stop sign," he encourages me.

I reopen my eyes. Though I was never that skilled at driving, I can drive a considerably long stretch of road before smacking into a tree.

I put my hand on the gear and pull out of the driveway, trying my best to let my thoughts drift off to anything but Dad. Food, boys, music... Anything is better.

The rain starts falling again. The noisy, frequent thumps that resonate in the car as they drop onto the windshield and windows. It irritates me to think that somewhere out there, children are playing in the rain while Dad is gone.

The world should be colorless and grey with Dad gone.

Stop it, Violet! I mentally reprimand myself. I close my eyes, willing the thoughts to leave as quickly as they came. My fingers tremble on the steering wheel. 

"Shut up!" I tell myself. Surprisingly, it works, and I keep driving.

The neon sign inscribed with 'La Foutue Boutique De Robes Francaise' flashes in front of me, as if to notify me I have arrived at the dress shop. I pull over on the sidewalk, hoping I won't get a parking ticket. 

I slam the car door behind me and lock it. My wallet in hand, I run over to the dress shop.

"God damn rain," I mumble, picking up my pace as the raindrops increase.

A raindrop lands on my nose. I look up.

"Dad! Look!" I hold out my hand as the tiny slivers of rain fall.

"Yes, it's raining, Vi," he laughs.

A sudden wetness falls onto the bridge of my nose.

"Look, Vi, there's a raindrop on your nose," my dad says.

The flashback ends. I really have to stop thinking about things that cast me down the memory lane.

"Mademoiselle?" I poke my head into the clothing store. The owner is a French lady called Adelaide.

"Ah, Violet, I see you are here for ze dress?" Her voice is slightly tinged with a French accent.

"Yep," I reply, popping the p.

She nods and pushes her red glasses up her pointy nose. She adjusts her lilac suit and walks to the back of the shop, heels clopping like horse's hooves.

She returns thirty seconds later with a soft bundle in her arms. "Here, dah-ling," she says, giving me my dress. I accept it and hug it to my chest. "Thanks, madmoiselle," I say, putting the cash on the counter. 

"Pas de probleme, cherie," she absently replies in French. I chuckle and step out of the store. The rain has fallen and the sky looks clean again. I feel hopeful, like nothing has gone wrong.

The air seems cleansed of all dust. I take a deep breath. Nothing will go wrong, at least for today, I think. Then a smile spreads across my face, and I skip over to Dad's car. 

I get in and shut the car door firmly behind me. To distract myself from Dad's passing, I put on some loud music and begin to drive.

A song comes on. 

It might seem crazy what I'm about to say

Sunshine, she's here, you can take a break,

I'm a hot air balloon that could go to space,

With air, like I don't care, baby, by the way...

I identify the song as Happy. It was my favourite song to dance to.

I instinctively hum the lyrics under my breath, swaying slightly and tapping my fingers on the leather steering wheel along with the beat.

And my vision blackens for a second, then fading into another scene which is definitely not the inside of Dad's car,

It's a summer afternoon.

Dad and I are listening to the radio, when Happy comes on.

The upbeat tune is nothing compared to Dad's violin music, but I immediately jump up and begin to dance along, whirling around the living room as Dad watches me with amusement.

The chorus comes on.

I dance back over to Dad and hold out my hand. 

His grin matches mine.

He takes his cue, and puts his hand in mine, and we begin to do a weird half-waltz-half-modern dance.

We dance all afternoon to every song on the radio.

"Snap out of it! You're driving!" I yell at myself, slapping myself on the face.

And I do snap out of it. But I am one moment too late.

The car jolts with a sickening thud, the impact throws me forward, pulling me out of the security of my seat. The windshield shatters into a billion shards of glass, and the impact of the crash throws me sideways, avoiding the glass that explodes all over the car, in a tinkling sound which is in no way magical. I crash into the door and tumble out of my seat, out of the car, onto the sidewalk.

A sharp pain throbs in the back of my head- no, everywhere in my head, and a sticky liquid pools underneath me. I reach out.

Blood.

And everything goes black.