“Why? Why do things have to happen the way they do? WHY!” I screamed, as loud as humanly possible. My tears had now turned into completely out of my control sobs. I kicked the walls at least 10 times, screaming the same painful word over, and over. “Why?” My legs finally gave up and I started using my fists, ignoring the bruises that were already starting to form. In matter of seconds it seemed my whole body had died out. I hit my head against the boring, gray wall in front of me, breathing heavily, and my vision soon turned black.

I didn’t dream that night, and I probably should’ve. I was aching on every inch of my body, especially around my big brown eyes. My 2 hours passed out in the hallway felt almost like I had died, but only for a couple seconds. The world was black; I couldn’t even seem to pick out the inside of my eye lids. But I liked it that way. There was no one, not even me. I had no thoughts, no emotion, and no pain. I wondered if that is what death is really like, though I knew I wasn't ready for it.

I stared at the window on my ceiling, counting the rain drops that fell, and trying to decide the logical time. My guess was around midnight, but I really could’ve been wrong. I forced enough strength out of myself to sit up. While doing so, I could feel the tangles in my long blonde hair, and I was grateful that I was the only person present in the house. I slowly looked around the room, until my eyes had found the dents in the walls. I stood up, feeling excruciating pain, and stared at it.

My fingers moved across each one, four from my feet, six from my hands, and one from my head. I looked intensely at my arms, and matched each bruise with the dents. I wished so much that it would’ve been one of those things where you’d wake up, and the agonizing memories would’ve left your brain, but it wasn’t. And there was nothing I could do.

I strolled, little by little, down the hall, meeting every picture’s eyes. I felt like they were out to get me. I could just see the disappointment in each of their eyes, and I was glad there were no tears left in me. Every person was like a punch right in the stomach, my grandmother, grandfather, my brother, my aunt, my mom and dad, and then there was me.

Looking into your own eyes is a strange thing, sometimes you just see you, but sometimes you see the complete opposite. This girl wore a smile, while I did not. She was beautiful, while I was not. She was talented, while I was not. And she was intelligent, and I was not. She was also, sitting at the most perfect black, grand piano ever to have been built, the place where she had belonged.


I looked to the right, seeing an identical piano. I made me way over, at the pace of a snail. I felt my bruised fingers across its striking keys, going from black to white. I could feel my bruises healing. I smiled my first smile in what seemed like a lifetime. I sat on the seat, and started to create a song. My fingers had not felt so much joy in years. I eventually got some words out of me. While singing my heart out, i could feel my headache disappear, and the horrible memories that had come with it.


I got up and started to dance. I twirled, pirouetted, and anything you could possibly think of. My legs were repaired. I leaped back to the hall, feeling all the smiles of my ancestors, and knowing every single one was meant for me. When I made my way back to myself, I finally recognized that girl again. And she looked a heck of a lot like me.