The basic premise is that the concert pianist suffering an accident and losing the ability to control one of her arms meaning she can no longer play and how her friend deals with this as they both suffer together.
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It smells... It smells bad... I remember it... Everytime he came back from work he smelled just like this. This strong smell of antiseptic... The stench of someone trying to hard to mask the ugly truth. I thought I was done with this place... I thought I was done with these white wash walls and these grey curtains. That detestable ceiling with a thousand pin prick holes. These fake smiles and all those 'Maybes' and 'very soons'. But here I am again... There's someone out there laughing at my misfortune, I know it. And I can't even bring myself to hate them for it. "Pianist" "I refuse to open my eyes" I whisper in defiance to whoever it is that is laughing. I refuse to see those white wash walls and the grey curtains and that ceiling with a thousand pin prick holes. Thats right! I refuse! "Pianist" "I won't let you take it away!" I shout out into an empty room. I hear my voice echo... In a room too small to fit two beds in, that only has two chairs to compensate. "Pianist" "I won't let you take my arm away too..." My voice begins to fail me as my last words barely make it out of my mouth... ... ...... ......... I slowly begin to realise my own foolishness. I grudgingly open my eyes, The light is so bright... I curse these walls, and these curtains, and that ceiling with the thousand pin prick holes... My cheeks begin to grow wet and warm as the light begins to diminish. the more bearable the light gets, the wetter and warmer my cheeks get. It suddenly crosses my mind that I might be crying. So I tell myself to stop. Many times. "Pianist" "Crying is for people who still have something to live for."
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I'm greeted by the farmiliar smell of home as soon as I open the door. I honestly can't say it feels good But it is a huge improvement over the hospital room. Without further ado I dump my bag into a corner and make myself at home. Obviously. ------------Scene Change Living Room----------- It looks exactly like I left it. ... so (Friend) really did keep the place clean. I seriously doubted whether he would, with his absent mindedness I was sure he would forget. But just to make sure... I swipe my finger across the kitchen table with lightning speed! Which turns out to be a bad idea as I suddenly and violently sneeze. Theres dust everywhere... As I inspect the room closer I notice that all the surfaces have a fine layer of dust on them. Even the Piano... "Pianist" "..." I remember vividly that (Friend) promised to keep this place clean while I was gone. In the hopes of solidifying his treachery I glance at the calender. 23rd Of June... I told him I was getting out on the 24th... ... ...... ......... "Pianist" "I'll give him the full punishment course And if the rest of the house is like this I'll force him to clean up everything for the next week too. That'll show him to be lazy while I'm gone. My body suddenly has the urge to bathe in warm water. Which is a reasonable demand now that I think about it. So I decide run a bath and mull over how to punish (Friend) when he gets back...
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"Friend" "(Pianist) please... there's no... really you don't have to..." She ignores me and flips the lid open anyways. Her face is a hard to read. I can't tell what she's thinking. Is she scared? She raises both of her arms, her left arm moves up sporadically, taking an age to reach the keys. Her right arm is smoother, graceful even. It reaches the keys far quicker than the other and rests casually upon them. "Friend" "(Pianist)..." Once again she ignores me. A great uneasiness wells up deep inside me. I want to grab her and shake her and throw her away from the piano. I want to smash it to splinters before it can hurt her. Because it's going to hurt her. It's already hurting her. *plink* a soft melody begins to flow from the piano. her left arm still waiting to do it's part. I watch in silence, my apprehension grows as she keeps going. Finally she lets her left arm begin. *donk* ... *pon*...*bam*...*brrrriiinnngggg* Her left arm refuses to move properly, it smashes into the keys, rips across them and pushes them all down. This cacaphony of noise goes on as her right arm keeps going with the melody. The soft sound of the piano... Is drowned out by the hard noise of pain. I grimace, both inside and outside and wonder how it is she can keep going. It hurts so much... It hurts me so much that I can't imagine why she can stand it. Then I realise what that emotion on her face really is. It's hate. She hates it. She hates the noise, she hates the sound, she hates herself and she hates the piano... I can even feel the hate extend to me... She hates it so much she can't stop. her mouth moves, it reshapes itself into a smile... a sinister smile. the noise continues, she smiles. the noise gets louder, she raises her head up and opens her mouth. "Pianist" "hmhmhmhm..." Is she...? "Pianist" "hahahahaha..." Laughing? "Pianist" "Hahahahaha!" I can't take it anymore. I rush forward and grip both her arms with my hands. The noise stops. All that's left is this hate... and a growing sadness. She doesn't resist but keeps laughing... "Pianist" "HAHAHAHA!!" ... And I keep hurting... "Friend" "(Pianist)..." Her laughing slowly quiets into giggles... then into sniffs... Before it falls into sobs. I loosen my grip on her. I see her body become slack and she crumples across the piano, *Thump* I stand there, I can't find any words. I can't think of anything to do. As her sobbing becomes wails of pain. And her tears roll down. I can only lean in and hold her in my arms... Her body shaking as I embrace her. We stay like that... As she continues to cry... And I contemplate. Just how broken we really are...