It was another morning, I was drowning. Drowning in in my own darkness, the darkness engulfed the bright sunlight peeping through my curtains. I slithered out of my bed, and then stood blankly in front of my mirror. I grabbed my bottled water that stood on my vanity, angrily I twisted open the cap and poured it down my head. It cascaded down, past my shoulders like a waterfall. My pale face was dripping, and my big glassy black eyes became teary. I licked my full pink lips which were forming an arched frown. My door burst open and in came Bella Lisa Calligardi, my mother.

“What have you done now? Come here quick! Get dry! Violetta Julie Calligardi do you hear me?!” She yanked my arm and threw me into the shower. “You are a curse to our family” She wailed out.

“Mother, why don’t you stop trying to blame me and go back to the casino? Isn’t that old man still paying you? Or did you forget? The one from last nig-“As I almost finished my sentence I had already expected there was a red mark on my cheek from her slap. “Leave my room; I have to get ready for school. Get lost!” I pushed her out slamming the door shut.

I was starting a new school, this was the usual for me, and many schools would kick me out, this time I was reduced from private to public. The uniform consisted of a light blue blouse, navy blazer, navy tie and pleated skirt. It was disgusting.

As I entered through the doors, through the doors, heads turned to me, whispers began to be traded. A bubbly blonde walked towards me.

“Omigosh! Hi! I’m Courtney! You’re so pretty! Wah it’s so cool you’re from a private school!” She said and stuck out her hand.

I wanted to shake it, instead my body did the opposite, and instead I leaned back, tilted my head, and smirked.
“Go to Hell.” I said and walked on by, already knowing the girl’s face would be full of shock and then possibly anger. It was the first day and people had already been avoiding me like a virus. When I entered the buzzing lunch room people would glance at me then quickly look away.
“What? You idiots have something to say? Speak. Stop glancing and whispering like third-rate cowards. If I’m really that interesting, then why don’t you take a bite?” I said, sinking my teeth into an apple as I stood there. I saw jaws drop and eyes widen. I found a near empty table and sat at the end not caring for anyone.

A week later it was known to the school that I was the “Italian Devil”. Rumors surfaced, I addressed them all out publicly. It was the same routine every day for me, the cycle which never died, it was an unbreakable curse. The nice Violetta was trapped inside, where the mean one took control of her.
It was a usual Monday when something odd happened. She was in the music room; no one was inside except her. A grand piano was present in front of her. She always felt close to music, she had a connection to a piano, one she did now know why. Slowly, she began to play, flailing her fingers, I began to play “Moonlight Sonata”, as did she, the Good Violetta. We both kept up, playing almost flawlessly. Suddenly we both hear a ruffling of cloth. Immediately I was broken from my trance the other, the good Violetta faded away.

I glanced up sharply. I scowled seeing the silhouette of a man appear. It was a guy; he was tall, lean, mahogany hair and deep emerald eyes spewing out hatred, and also awe.
“What do you want?” I barked out.
“Nothing, it’s my practice time on the piano, move it.” He barked back and smirked.
I got up; fixing my skirt then looked at him dead in the eye. “The stage is yours please fall on your face and break your finger.” I said gesturing to the piano bench.
He chuckled, flashing me a bright smile with his pearly whites. He flexed his fingers and played the exact same piece I had played.
“Not bad for an idiot.” I said with a smirk.
“You’re not to bad yourself, for an Italian Devil that is.” He said, still playing.
I started tot turn to leave, something stopped me. I looked back at my wrist, he was grasping it. I pulled it away from him.
“What?” I said sharply.
“Wait. Play with me.” He said with pleading eyes. I was taken aback.
“What?!” I exclaimed.
“There’s a showcase coming up, I’ve tried to find the right pianist, but I haven’t been able till I met you.” He said.
“What’s with the sudden attitude change? You think I’ll actually say yes? I don’t think you understand why I’m called the Italian Devil.” I said still pulling my hand away from him.
“I don’t think you understand me” He said with his eyes looking somber.
“There’s nothing left to understand.” I said as he finally let go of my wrist.

“I know you’ve got a gentle side devil. That girl’s struggling inside your soul” He said softly like her was remembering something.

Scowling, I turned to him. “Don’t act like you know what you’re talking about. Stay out of my business punk.” I said then turned away. In the distance I could hear his cold laughter.
A week later, people started whispering about me at lunch again. “What? Someone got anything to say? Ha.” I addressed them.
“Yeah. I do.” I heard his familiar voice at the door.
I turned around to face him, realizing I didn’t know his name. My face twisted into disgust. “What do you want?”
“It’s not ‘you’ it’s Vincent; Vincent Grey.” He said extending his hand. He retreated it back into his pockets when I didn’t grab it.
“So what, you’re Mr. Oh-so-Popular in this town? Like I care, just die please?” I said angrily.
“Hah, see everyone? She’s not even thankful; my piano partner is a devil. Isn’t that sad?” He said to the room with an amused look on his face.
“I refused you!”
“It wasn’t a choice.” He said holding up a flyer, me and him were randomly chosen to play piano along with ten other pairs. My temper flared and I ran out. I grabbed my keys and drove home.
Another dreadful week passed, the whole school knew by then of the showcase. I, wanting to beat and be better than Vincent, tried practicing everyday. As I practiced everyday my connection with the piano grew closer. As the days grew closer so did my determination to beat him. Then came the dreadful day, it was thirty minutes before the showcase and as I got ready, I heard music from the practice room, hesitantly, I walked in. As I expected it was Vincent.
“Well well, you’ve gotten better. Break a leg, literally.” I said to him angrily. As I walked away I heard his soft chuckle in the distance.

Then, came the big moment I had anticipated all these weeks and the truth unfolded slowly in front of my eyes. The Good Violetta flashed between my eyes. As did all her memories. The dead and good Violetta revived inside me, and she was in the embrace of Vincent.
I finished my piece in tears, realizing I had recovered from long term memory loss.





END