Okay, heres my new story. Hope you like it :D
Thanks to my Beta: TheBrightestNight. Youre awesome.
Annnnnd thanks to Victoria, for all your help :) you have amazing patience for my crazy perfectionist tendencies. So thank you. :P And youre a really cool person, just btw.
Amelia gazed out at the crowd and took a deep breath as she raised the violin up to her shoulder. The bright stage lights set her skin on fire, and made it impossible to see farther than the stage pit. Even though she knew it was only a crowd of about thirty people, she still couldn't help but feel nervous. Beads of sweat glistened on the brim of her forehead; her muscles were buzzing with anticipation and her stomach was a swarm of anxious butterflies. She never liked playing for an audience.
With another deep breath, she closed her eyes and raised her bow up to the strings. She imagined she was somewhere else—anywhere else besides this pulsing, claustrophobic club downtown. Somewhere where there was nothing but miles of open space, and a fresh breeze;a place where she could believe in impossibilities, where freedom was just a step away, and there was nothing to hold her back…
Her heart calmed to a steady rhythm as her mind took her elsewhere. She struck the first note, and then the second. The music began to pour out of her; as the notes fell against the ears of those in the club, the crowd silenced. All of their attention was focused on the tall, pale girl with the animated blue eyes. Her long and skinny fingers danced across the strings, seemingly of their own accord. Her lips were pressed thin, eyes fluttering slightly, as her body swayed and moved with the rhythm of the music. She was in a place of eternal beauty and escape, and Amelia wished she could stay in it forever.
Damien loved the way she looked when she played; the way her cheeks smoothed of all their normal tension, and how her breath became soft and steady, as if her soul were centering, her world balancing itself. For those few moments when her soul became entangled with her music, she was at peace.
He had been her best friend since sixth grade, and he had attended every one of her performances over the years. And yet, each performance still left him breathless and vulnerable. He wondered if he would ever become immune to such beauty.
Amelia struck the last note, and Damien watched as her posture stiffened once again, transforming back into her normal, conserved self. She opened her eyes, and locked gazes with Damien from across the room. He lifted his lips into a lopsided grin, and she smiled back. She hopped off the stage, not bothering to use the stairs and began packing up her stuff. The crowd stood stunned for a moment, the remnants of the last note still hanging in the air. Damien watched as they snapped back to reality, the dazed look dissipating from their eyes, as the tinny noise of the club slowly seeped back into their consciousness. As always, the crowd was disappointed to be awakened from Amelia's song. They slowly began to file out of the club, or turn back to their drinks. Damien pushed his way through the crowd and came up behind her.
"Good job," he said. "Is that a new piece?"
"Yeah," Amelia replied. "I wrote it last night, at about one in the morning."
Damien nodded. That wasn't surprising—Amelia usually did her best work in the dead of night. She claimed it was the stars and the cool air that inspired her, but Damien suspected it had more to do with the feeling of loneliness that night brought. All of her songs had a sort of melancholy feeling underlying them, like she had some sort of deep pain blossoming inside her that could only be expressed through her music.
Damien watched as she finished packing up. She was wearing a pair of dark washed, ripped jeans, and a black band tee shirt. Her dark, straight, shoulder-length brown hair fell in choppy layers around her delicate heart shaped face.
It's no wonder she had all these admirers after her all the time, Damien thought, momentarily stunned by her image, she's beautiful.
"Ready?" Amelia asked.
"Yeah," Damien said distractedly, his eyes lingering on her face. He loved the way she looked after a performance, the way her cheeks flushed and her hair was slightly ruffled.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her eyes narrowed with suspicion, as if she could read his thoughts.
Damien broke his gaze, and his eyes snapped to the ground. "Let's go," he said, somewhat curtly.
Amelia sighed, and ignored his moodiness. She hoisted a messenger bag filled with music sheets and a few school books over her shoulder, one hand clasping her violin case. She nodded towards the door, motioning for him to go first.
They had barely taken two steps before Amelia felt a hand on her shoulder. She whipped around, alarmed. She never liked being touched.
"Sorry to startle you, Miss," said a man who looked about nineteen years of age. He smiled charmingly, and removed his hand from her shoulder. Amelia tried not to squirm under his gaze. She looked him over slowly; she determined he was the type of guy most girls would find attractive, with his long, curling golden blonde hair, boyish features, and thickly lashed brown eyes. He was tall and thin too, with a cocky smile and expensive clothes.
"Nice performance," he said, flashing another charming smile.
"Thanks," Amelia replied frostily. She didn't like conversing with strangers. Damien took a step closer to her. There was something off about this man.
The man kept on smiling, seemingly oblivious to the tension between him and Amelia.
"You want another gig?" He asked.
Amelia shrugged. She was almost always up for more playing time, but her gut was telling her to play it cool.
"I work at this club. It's called the Black Dahlia, you heard of it?" The man arched an eyebrow.
"No," Amelia replied curtly, "what about it?"
"My manger and I want you to play there tomorrow. We think you'd be a great addition to the club, and really enhance the atmosphere," he said.
Amelia didn't like the way his eyes glimmered with a sort of superiority, the egotistical tone of his voice. She never had much patience for people who raised themselves up on a pedestal. "No thanks," Amelia said brusquely, turning to leave. Damien followed her lead.
"We're willing to pay you very well," the man promised, his voice cutting through the din of the club.
Those words stopped Amelia in her tracks. She slowly pivoted around, facing him again, interest piqued. "How much?" she asked, her bright blue eyes fixed on him.
"Two thousand dollars," he replied with a smirk, as if he knew how much she needed the money.
Amelia hesitantly took a step closer. "Would I get it in cash?"
"Right after the performance," the man assured.
Amelia looked at him skeptically. "Let me see it," she demanded.
The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick stash of bills, and held one up to the light to prove its authenticity.
Amelia chewed on her bottom lip, thinking for a moment. Finally she announced, "We'll be there. What time?"
"Seven o'clock," the man said. His eyes glinted with something Amelia couldn't quite put her finger on. "Don't be late."
Amelia nodded. The man brushed past her, bumping her shoulder in the process, and exited the shop.
"Well, he was sketchy," Damien commented once the man was out of earshot, staring after him suspiciously.
"Yeah," Amelia agreed, heading towards the door. Damien hurried to keep up with her brisk pace.
"Maybe we shouldn't do the gig," Damien said after a moment of silence, holding open the door for Amelia.
"Damien," she said, with a sigh, pausing in the doorway. She adjusted the messenger bag she had slung over her shoulder. "We need the money. Two thousand dollars…. that would easily pay for our plane tickets."
Damien ran his fingers through his short black hair agitatedly. "I know," he admitted, "But I'm worried about you. I don't want you going to that club alone." His coal black eyes looked down at her.
"We don't really have any other options, Damien. We're trapped," She reminded him gently. "We need that money. Besides, I have a black belt, remember?" Amelia reminded him loftily.
Damien rolled his eyes. He hated how casual Amelia sounded, how she didn't even seem to care about her own welfare; as long as it was for the 'greater good', she was willing to do whatever she had to—even if it meant harming herself.
"He's a lot bigger than you, Amelia," he reminded her tightly. "And stronger."
Amelia turned to look at him. She studied him for a moment, and then came to a conclusion. "He's not much bigger than you."
"So?" Damien asked. "What's that got to do with anything?"
"I've kicked your ass before," Amelia reminded him, flashing a lopsided grin. "I can kick his."
"That's different," Damien argued. "What if he has back up?"
"He probably does," Amelia admitted, her face becoming serious once again. "We should bring some too."
"Who?" Damien asked, curious.
"I was thinking Matt and Ryan," Amelia said slowly. "I know you don't like them very much, but they owe me one."
Damien stiffened, but he knew she was right. He could put up with those two jerks for one night if it meant Amelia would be safe. "Alright."
She exited the club, goose bumps pricking her skin as cool autumn air rushed by, and made her way over to her dented Honda Civic.
Damien helped her load the equipment into the truck.
Amelia got in the driver's seat and started the engine. Damien slide in beside her. Amelia looked out on the road, and smiled softly to herself. If everything went as planned, they would be free by this time tomorrow. The thought sent sparks of hope zinging through her body, and she whispered the word softly to herself. Free. She couldn't wait.
Reviews are greatly appreciated :) hope you liked it.