Nina Martin was an outsider. An outcast. The victim of bullies no matter how many times she changed schools. Her parents told her that they were jealous of her. She was the best runner in the county, a genius, a play writer in the midst, and an artist. She could do things with colors people had never seen. But above she could sing.
Boy, could she sing.
If you cut open her heart, a melody would pour out. The blood in her veins was filled with notes, and her heartbeat was the rhythm to a harmony that would never end.
"Nina," Annabelle Martin called, entering the room. "Nina, did you do your homework?"
"Yes, mother," Nina, responded shyly.
"And did you practice your singing?"
"Yes, mother," Nina, replied.
"I hope so. The Donaldson's will be over tomorrow, and I don't want you to make a fool of this family, like how you do!" She bent over, and lifted Nina's chin, so her eyes met hers. "Your father and I saved you, when you ruined our lives at eighteen. I'm a mother of a fourteen year old at thirty-two. I don't think that comes across well at job interviews, while I'm trying to get you hot water, electricity and food!" Mrs. Martin stood up, and straightened out her dress. "We'll be back at seven. There's some lasagna in the fridge. Don't eat it all. That's your lunch for school."
Mark Martin skipped down the steps in a hurried way, fixing his tie. "Come on, we don't want to be late." As Mrs. Martin slipped on her coat, Mark kissed his only daughter. "Bye, love."
"Bye, daddy."
The door slammed shut, Nina hummed, ad she headed over to her mail pile. She plowed through; searching for a letter from her school, when she realized that it was all yesterday's mail. Dang it, I must have forgotten it.
Pulling on her coat, she turned her doorknob and then left her house. She was across the street to the mailbox, when she saw a shadow behind her. She turned around, but there was no one there. When she spun around again, there was a woman in a green trench coat, blue leggings, and a pair of red boots, with jet-black hair, in front of her.
Nina fell over, as the woman pulled her hands out of her pockets. The fourteen-year old could now see the black gloves on her fingers, and she got up.
"You probably don't remember me," the strange woman told her. "I was there when you were born. I saw your pretty blue eyes open for the first time, I saw your father leave the room, holding his hand that your mother broke."
At this moment, Nina pulled her keys out of her pocket, her shaking hands fumbling to pull out her pocketknife without the odd woman noticing.
The woman smiled and began speaking, pretending not to see this. But she did. "I think I've waited long enough. I spent fourteen years the burden of your mother's shadow, a year as her closest companion, a year as the forgotten girl and fourteen years waiting for revenge." She came closer, and Nina backed up. "I hear you can sing, girl. As beautiful as your mother used to. Did she tell you what happened?"
"A girl back in her high school caused an accident to her vocal chords. She got it fixed but she can't sing," Nina explained.
"Yes, my sister. Got her locked her in a jail for quite a while too," the woman admitted. "I never told her how much I hated her, but how much I admired her too. She was amazing, but she had secrets and no one bothered to love her." The woman stepped forward, "But I did."
At this, the woman lunged at Nina, and grabbed her wrist, holding her pocketknife in her hand. Nina struggled, grappling the knife, with one hand, pulling, trying to get it out of her grip. Skin broke as the knife cut her fingers, and blood poured out.
Nina screamed, and the woman grabbed the knife. With Nina sprawled on the ground, her hair the color of her worst enemy's and her eyes mirroring those of her love's, the dark woman slashed at Nina's throat, ripping her vocal chords, but allowing her to live.
Nina was crying, gripping at her throat, trying to stop the blood. The woman pulled out a burner phone, and dialed three numbers.
"9-1-1, what is your emergency?" the voice rang through the phone.
"Go ahead, tell her," the trench coat woman commanded told her the blonde girl. "Oh, that's right you can't."
Walking away, Nina mouthed the words that she couldn't speak.
It was you. You destroyed my mother.