Author's note: haha I know this chapter was long overdue but TADA! its here... enjoy and review

Chapter 2

Amelia's bedroom provided no reprieve from the anger of her mother. The many shattered pieces were proportional to the magnitude of anger that exuded from her mother. As hard as Amelia had tried to mask the damage, little ever escaped the objective eye. Hard as she tried to argue her way out of trouble, her presence in the room itself invalidated her argument. Amelia's mother would have none of her excuses and duly went about punishing her. As usual, the punishment was more of a mental torture than anything physical. Her mother had locked up the room, this time for a week. The door was a glass one and everyday Amelia had to pass by it to the hallway. It was inevitable that her gaze would be drawn unto the piano. The physical castration from the piano was taxing on her weak emotional frame.

Everyday she would hide in her bedroom, trying her best to escape from the harshness of reality. She hated how she had to give in to her mother. There was no loophole to exploit this time. She could not refer the argument to her father in hope of him standing on her side. Ultimately it was her who had broken the vase and there was no other way to it. As hard as she had tired to fight back the tears, the pain was too overbearing to remain stoic. Images flooded her thoughts as she flipped through Seventeen Magazine for the umpteenth time. Unlike typical girls who were caught up in the fashion rat race, Amelia had little interest in spending hours on making herself look good, instead she envisioned herself spending hours preparing for that big performance. The images that flooded her thoughts were reflective of that. Nothing was more desirable to her than being allowed to play music with freedom. The oppressed nature of her Mother only served to build this insatiable thirst. Yet despite her strong desire, her dreams were far from being realized.

In any story there would be a protagonist and antagonist. In the story of Amelia's life, the antagonist was undoubtedly her mother. Yet that was another factor that was keeping Amelia from realizing her dreams – her father. Although he had not publicly opposed his daughter's aspiration, he had a great detest for her ambition. Amelia’s father, Jacob, had many skeletons in the closet that Amelia knew nothing about. Although Amelia believed Sherry, her mother, to be her biological mother, the truth was further from reality. Jacob had met Amelia's biological mother Melissa in the summer of 87 at a summer bash. While Melissa took no notice of Jacob, the same could not be said for Jacob. He was immediately attracted to her grace and style on the piano. Her performance exuded an aura of sexiness that was unparallel in the music world. Jacob was not much of a musical buff but he knew that what he saw that day was on the boarders of grandeur. He was captivated by the way her fingers graced across the pearl white marble keys. The melodies produced were incomparable at that era. No one had reached the pinnacle of the music industry like Melissa.





Dead like me

Chapter 1

The silent ambience of the house provided a certain serenity that was clearly lacking in Amelia's life. It was rare that the house would harbour the guest of peace in its docks. Yet on this particular day it had, leaving Amelia with plenty of time to practice on her piano. Her mother had forbidden her to use the piano when she was home. Her initial rejection to allow Amelia to learn the piano was overturned by her father, but with much reluctance. She has tried her utmost best since than to deprive Amelia of any musical growth. Any budding talent she had was suppressed by her mother. Ever opportunity she had to practice, Amelia grasped it with both hands, like a beggar being offered gold.

With both hands on the keyboard, she started to play with finesse and panache worthy of a world class pianist. Talent overflowed with abundance in this petite young girl. Not only was she blessed with strong musical awareness, she was also bestowed the voice of an angel. Her singing could soothe even the seething soul and clam the savage beast. Her ability to sing coupled with her mastery of the piano allowed her to stand out amongst her peers. She had everything going for her, a scholarship in the School of Arts and Music and a promising career as a young pianist. Yet her misfortune was to be born into a family where music was an advocate of the devil. Her mother rejected everything, wanting her to become the perfect child with scholastic achievements. She wanted Amelia to become a career woman, something that would earn the millions and someone that would feature in the top 20 most successful women. She wanted Amelia to be her perfect child. Music was something that would only distract Amelia from satisfying her goals for her. It was almost as if she wanted to live Amelia's life for her, to make every decision for her

Amelia finished playing the musical piece, within her a sense of satisfaction was building. It had been weeks since she last touched the pearl white keys of her grand piano. The sensation of touching the piano was both exhilarating and saturating at the same time. She felt as if the dread of suppression has been replaced with the joy of expression. Amelia felt as if for that few hours, she had been granted freedom from her cage. The urge to play reflected the amount of time she was kept off the piano. It had built such a strong desire that Amelia lusted for the opportunity every night. The piano was almost like the forbidden fruit, tempting but untouchable. She feared that her mother would find out that she had used the piano. The consequences were endearing to only the most sadistic of minds. Her mom caught her on the piano once and the ramification of her actions was dire. The piano room was locked up for a month. The isolation from it was both compounding on her misery and despairing. She stole a glace at the majestic grandfather clock in the corner. It was almost five in the afternoon and her mother would be home soon. She scurried to put everything back into the state of origin. Her mother was a meticulous person and demanded that everything was in order. Anything misplaced would be sported by the objective eye of her mother. Amelia had learnt this lesson from the ramification of her carelessness. Yet some old habits die hard.

In her scurry to replace everything, she fortuitously knocked over the flower vase by the piano. The shattering of the vase sounded like the wraith of Zeus. The repercussions would be mortifying to Amelia. She could almost imagine the infuriated guise on her mother's face. The vase was a treasured antique that her mother bought years ago. Not only was she in trouble for breaking the vase, her mother would surely find out about her “adventure”. The castigation would be tenfold the usual as the misdeed she has committed speaks for itself. The piercing eyes of her mother would bear the mark of her anger, the anger which would be handled out with no respite.