Author's Note:
Sorry about the short chapters! I'm pressed for time; Chanukah is in two or three days, and it'll be hard to work on this story with the holiday, so I'm trying to get as much done as possible.
Yours Truly,
Fifteen Noodles
Jacob Black.
My only evidence that somebody had ever been in my room, that I'd ever even had the keyboard. If he didn't remember anything about a keyboard, I wouldn't bring it up again. If he did...
Suddenly, I was horrified of who else might have been in my room.
Victoria.
I abruptly felt woozy and sat back down. I almost left the house for La Push. If Victoria had been in my room, who knows what would become of me soon enough? I'd be dead, or worse. I didn't allow myself to consider what the "or worse" part might mean as I walked out the door into my car. The door slammed on my finger, making it throb. I bit my lip and waited a few minutes for the pain to die down, started the car, and backed out of the driveway.
I finally arrived at the reservation and asked to see Jacob. He walked up to me and finally spoke.
"So, am I gonna get to see your piano today, or what?"
So I hadn't been dreaming. That narrowed the options down to two. Someone had been in my room, no doubt about it, but I still didn't know who.
"Oh, I can't show you today. Sorry," I answered him after a moment of consideration.
"Why not? Is there a problem?"
"Well, sort of. You see, it got... stolen."
"You were robbed? Bells, I'm so sorry."
"It's odd. They only took the keyboard. Nothing else. I don't know why." Of course I knew why Mr. or Ms. whoever-it-was had only taken only that item, but I kept a straight face as I attempted to lie to Jake.
"That's really weird. I'll look into it."
"No," I yelped a bit too loud, "don't. Whoever it was got away."
"I'm really sorry."
"It's fine. The keyboard was free, anyway."
Jacob nodded as we walked into his house.
* * *
I finally arrived home hours later. The same shuffling noise came from upstairs, but I wouldn't let the theif get away this time. I crept up the stairs, being very careful not to trip or make a sound, and quickly shoved the door open.
Nobody.
There was something different, though.
The keyboard was back.
There it was, the same one as before. This time, however, it looked like new. Polished and clean, the keyboard looked perfect. I leaned down and pressed one of the keys. The vibrant sound echoed throughout the room, bouncing off the walls, flowing around every object in the room. I sat down at the bench and played a few chords. Imitating everything I ever observed from the years when my mother played the piano, I attempted my lullaby again. The sound was still terrible, clunky and off, but the beauty of the keyboard's tone eased the notes into what actually resembled a song.
Suddenly, I was full of grief. This had to stop now. I sat down on my bed and did whatever I could to keep from losing it.
* * *
That night, I had trouble sleeping. Restlessness overwhelmed me, and my eyes fluttered open. It was about 2:00 a.m.
I reached for the cup of water at my side, but it dropped to the ground, clanking and rolling. I gasped, hyperventilating. I couldn't tell what I was feeling. I was numb. My heart began to pound as I stared at the dark outline of my visitor.