Rough hands plucked at the strings of a red fender guitar. Those hands fell into the familiar fingering of Musetta's waltz. The melody hung in the air of the loft, penetrating the paper thin walls and reaching the ears of the two other occupants. On a thin mattress, in a freezing bedroom, a thin, frail woman laid quietly, awake, though her eyes were closed and her breathing was steady. Drops of cold sweat dripped achingly slowly down her pale forehead. Images flashed passed her eyes like scenes flashed across a movie screen.
A small girl… six or seven years old cowered in a corner of the living room, hidden behind a ratty old couch. A sickening crack, and then she heard a scream, and salty tears burst from her eyes, running silently down her cheeks. Tiny arms wrapped around her small head, warding off blows not directed at her.
And then the tiny girl was older. Her face was more mature, changed from angelic and childlike, to sexy and teenaged. A smile could make you melt, but now her lips were straight, and her face was contorted with fear. Music was pounding into her ears, throughout her entire body, shaking her hand as it clutched the needle. Then with a deep breath she pressed it to her arm and felt the short bearable pain that gave into the unbelievable and unnatural bliss.
And then more and more images flashed through her mind, faster and blurrier and nondescript. Many, many people flashed by… a couple making out, a young girl passed out on the hardwood floor, a guy maybe two or three years older than her handing her a drink. A vague notion of being pushed up against a wall and having her dress ripped off. And then he was gone, and she couldn't recall anything about him. Not his face or his clothes or his voice. And he disappeared into the crowd of drinking, dancing teens. Her mind flashed more images… useless memories of people she once knew, and then stopped at the image of a young teenage boy… thirteen or fourteen years old. He gathered the small Latina body in his arms and carried her away from the music and the smoke and the heat of the party, outside into the cool autumn air. He held her and wiped away her tears and wrapped the ripped, slinky dress around her shivering body. And slowly the feeling returned, and the girl could remember pain… and exhaustion, and hurt, and love. And her mind saw a single flash, a silhouette of two figures walking down a sidewalk at some ungodly hour, with one's arms wrapped protectively around the other's small body. And then it faded out, and she saw no more…
Six years later, she lay on her thin mattress and she could still feel the warmth of an arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders, guiding and supporting her. And she could hear the haunting melody of Musetta's waltz echoing through the loft, ringing in her ears.