I hum to myself as I walk outside, lost in my own head and the music still ringing in my ears. I wander the building in search of a bathroom, but I can't find a single one. I consider turning back to ask for help, but when I do, I realize that I can't see anyone. Crap, they probably already left. I'd better hurry, or Daniel is going to be pissed. I pick up the speed of my walking, my black heels clicking the tile below me and my tutu-like black dress bouncing with my steps. I skip to the time of the tune I still can't get out of my head, laughing at my own foolishness. Good thing no one can see how childlike I look right about now. Finally, after what seems like too long, I find the women's bathroom. "Phew," I breathe, walking inside. I dash in front of the mirror, determined to make Daniel's jaw drop when I come back.
"Stop it," I tell my reflection. "You broke up with him. Why should you care what he thinks of how you look?"
I drum my fingers on the sink in front of me. "Goddammit, you're such an idiot." I bang my head against my palm and try to snap out of it. Whatever happens, happens. I turn on the faucet and splash some cool water on my face before ducking out of the bathroom. Halfway through the hallway, I am stopped by the sound of music. I pause and listen, recognizing the melody as one of the tunes that I'd just heard during the concert. Without even thinking about it, I follow the tune. As I weave through the corridors, the music gets louder and louder. After a minute, I find its source: a narrow, wooden door with a glowing, golden doorknob. I rest my hand on the knob, hesitating a bit. I take a deep breath and open the door, and just as I do, the music abruptly stops. I feel around for a light switch, and a series of electric candles flicker on above me.
"Whoa." In the middle of the room, illuminated by the yellow-orange flickering light is a grand piano similar to the one the man had played earlier. I walk up to it and run my hand gently along the flat, smooth surface at its back. I make my way to the keys, tapping one lightly. I tap another. I take a quick look around, for the first time wondering if I should actually be in this room. Another minute, and I'll leave, I tell myself. There is no way that I am passing up playing this gorgeous piano. I've always loved to play, but never in my life have I seen a piano this elegant up close. I'd be stupid not to try it out. I smooth my dress flat against the back of my thighs before sitting down; a habit my mother had always vehemently enforced. I had to be a "lady," after all. If only I could be. Piano often seemed too elegant for me, like I am not worthy to wield such a beautiful instrument. The two of us are perfectly different: I am rough, edgy, dark… but the piano… everything about it screams royalty. I suppose opposites attract, in the case of our strange love.
I run my hands delicately across the keys, as if to greet the instrument. I pluck one note silently. I play a chord just a bit louder. Then, as it always seems to do, a tune bursts out of me in a series of frantic, random notes. Sometimes the piece is one I have heard before, other times an improvisation. This one was the latter. Still, tonight, my playing is more empowered. My usual hesitance floats away as my fingers dance on the keys. The melody is complex, and my hands nearly freeze up with how surprised I am that I am playing this music. I'd never played like this before. It is… hypnotizing. I feel myself go to another place, until I seem to be floating above the piano.
That is when the lights go out. I freeze, my mind acting like a punch in the face as I abruptly come back to my senses. My heart pounds nervously. I can't see an inch in front of my face.
"He… Hello?" I stutter to no one. The power probably just went out. Still, why do I get the uneasy feeling that I am being watched? "Is anyone in here? Please say something."
"Shh." I jump, and in my surprise hit my knee on the piano. I bite my tongue in pain.
"I didn't know, please –"
"Quiet, or they'll hear you," a man's gentle, yet slightly raspy voice warns me. My stomach ties itself in knots as I prepare myself for the worst. What is he going to do to me…? Either way, I do what he says. I really don't have any other option. After what feels like hours, the voice calls out to me.
"All right. We should be fine now. Can you see enough to stand?"
"Yes," I breathe. "I think so." I clumsily get to my feet and try to shuffle back from my position at the piano, hitting the bench repeatedly in the process. I notice during my frenzied attempts to get away that I am hyperventilating. I feel my chest crush my lungs slowly and painfully. My eyes get heavy.
A hand suddenly clasps mine, startling me. A shriek catches in my throat and turns into a squeak.
"Don't be afraid." The man again. He is in front of me. I panic even more, until I realize that he is guiding me through the room to the door. "Just a bit further," he reassures me. The room might as well have tripled in size. Finally, I hear the knob turn. Light floods into the room, but it isn't bright enough to allow me to see the man's face. "Come with me," the man says. "If they find you now, it won't be pleasant." I nod, and he continues to lead me out of the room. The hallway is lit with electric candles mounted to the wall here and there, but all other lights have been turned off. How long was I in that room? Did everyone leave?
Daniel. I inhale sharply. I wonder if he left, too?
And this man… who is he? I try to get another look at him, but it is still too poorly lit to get my bearings. Against my better judgment, I continue to follow him. He makes me feel strangely at ease, despite his unexplainable, haunting presence.
"Where are we going?" I whisper as quietly and distinctly as I can. He doesn't respond. I open my mouth to ask if he heard me, but I think against it. He did say that we don't want to get caught… even so, I don't like the suspense.
We reach a large pair of ornate wooden doors, each with its own gold-tinted doorknob. The man pulls out a large key and inserts it in the lock while I stand behind him. He opens the doors and takes my hand, leading me inside. His grip is firm, yet gentle at the same time. My heart flutters, and I scold it silently. Only then do I notice the room around me. I gasp.
The space in front of me is much vaster than I'd expected, so much so that I can't see where the room ends. All four walls are made of stone, each one carefully and methodically placed. Where the walls end, stone-tile floors begin, each tile a different shade of grey and brown. Every and any space in the room that could possibly fit a candle welcomes two candles into its territory. Despite this, the room isn't overwhelmingly bright. In fact, darkness still leaks in every so often from different places that don't occupy a candle. I spot a piano on a far end of the room, one somehow even more gorgeous than the one I'd been playing. I walk over to it, stepping lightly over scattered sheet music as I go. I gape at the complexity of the melodies scribbled on them. I barely notice that the man has been silently watching me snoop around. I decide that I should at least ask him more about what is going on.
Whoa. Why am I here? Why did I go with him? Anxiety crowds my head and eats away at me the second I realize I've let my guard down.
He is behind me. Do I dare turn around? I figure I'll have to at some point. So I do.
In front of me stands a tall, dark-haired man. He is dressed in a black suit and armed with piercing brown eyes that both swim in darkness and dance in light… adorned with a mask on one side of his face. The pianist.
He draws near to me slowly. I stay glued to the spot, my mind both screaming at me to move and urging me to stay. My heart beats out of my chest.
He comes so close that I can feel his breath, gazing down at me from our sizable difference in height. I level my face with his. I can't tell if I mean it as a challenge or an invitation. We stand there like that as we let the time fly away. Finally, he takes a step back and bows.
"I'm sorry if I scared you," he says. "My managers are very strict about people wandering the concert hall."
"Oh, uh, I'm sorry… I uh…" Of course, the only time I need to explain myself, I can't seem to form a coherent sentence. The man holds up his hand.
"No, no, it's all right. It's only natural for you to want to explore."
"Who are you?" I ask.
"Ah, no one important enough for a name," he responds. "Here, they call me the 'angel of music.' I think it's ridiculous and pretentious, but it's what I have. Still, it doesn't matter. Call me what you like, and I will answer." He looks me over intently before asking, "And what is your name?"
"Adeline," I say back. "Again, I'm sorry for going where I shouldn't have…"
The "angel" raises an eyebrow. "You are a musician as well?" I shrug timidly.
"I play as best I can," I say, chewing absentmindedly at my thumbnail; a nervous habit. "I'm not professionally taught. I'm, ah –" I sigh, "'amateurly professionally trained.' I taught myself to play, so no, most people in music don't consider me an actual musician."
"If you have the strength to train an instrument to follow your command, then you are a musician by all means," he replies pointedly. I nod.
"Good point."
There is a moment of silence between us, neither one knowing what to say.
"How should I go about getting home?" I blurt out. I regret saying it immediately. "I'm sorry, that sounded rude…"
"No, I understand," the angel smiles. "I'd ask the same thing if I were in your shoes." He frowns. "Unfortunately, I don't think that trying to leave here without my managers seeing you would be entirely possible."
I look at him, stunned. "Are you saying I have to stay here? My parents don't even know why I'm out past curfew! My boyfr–" I cut myself off. "…my friend will be worrying about me."
"I really am sorry, Adeline. I know it's not the perfect scenario, but I'll try my best to make it less worrisome for you. Tomorrow just before the show, the staff will be distracted and I will be able to lead you outside. This late at night, the guards tend to be more skittish."
The word guards sticks out to me like a sore thumb.
"All right," I say reluctantly. "Can I just call my parents and my friend to let them know I'm all right?"
"Of course. Go ahead." The man nods and walks just far enough away to give me privacy enough to make a call. I dial my mother's number, and as usual, I am met with her voicemail.
"Hi, mom," I say when the answer tone beeps. "It's me. The show ran late, so I'm crashing at Vita's tonight," I say, concocting an excuse. Vita is my good friend and lives close by, so it would make sense. Hopefully. "Just didn't want you to wonder where I was. Okay. Bye." I hang up. Next, I call Daniel. He answers on the third ring.
"Heeey, Addie!" he says. "What's goin' on?"
"Daniel. Hey. Something happened with security when I left, so I got held up."
"Ooooh, yeah, that," he laughs, slurring his words. I can hear people in the background yelling and laughing excitedly.
"Daniel," I say a little louder, "Where are you?"
"Ha, no way! I've only had, like, four beers," he says, his voice getting farther away as he addresses someone else.
"Where are you?" I say, getting irritated.
"Well, Trevor said he was having a thing, and I figured since you were taking so long, you'd be cool with it."
"Are you kidding me?"
"Ugh, I knew you'd be all uptight about this!" Daniel yells, the sluggishness in his voice stifling any hint of anger. I know for a fact that he's wasted.
"I'm not. Just don't worry about me, that's all."
I hang up. A person can only take so much of Daniel when he's drunk. Some of that's just Daniel anyway, though… I groan. Is he the jerk, or am I? The little voice of doubt that always rears its ugly head when I'm near Daniel makes her gracious appearance. Usually I'd indulge her and overanalyze until I feel sick. This time, I shut her out.
I turn and start walking towards the man, tears beginning their journey down my cheeks. I make it another five steps before the exhaustion and stress gets to be too much, and I pass out.