Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Sunlight filtered in through the open window, curtain fluttering lightly in the afternoon breeze. The smell of summer wafted through the room, the light orange floating in between the spaces of white in the hospital room. In the middle of the room, on the bed, a girl laid there quietly, soft breaths exiting through as she struggled to breathe through the nose tubes.

Her hands, pale and thin, bore angry red marks from the IV drip that was currently attached to her wrist.

And yet...

Her fingers moved rhythmically, an unheard song played on an invisible instrument, deft, professional coaxing out music that only the sun could hear.

Click.

Her head turned towards the door, slightly ajar as two nurses walked in with a cot. They gave her a smile and then softly, quietly, with voices that were barely audible above the music in her head, they spoke.

“It’s time.”

She nodded, fingers abandoning the invisible instrument as she waited patiently for them to transfer her from the hospital bed to the cot.

And then, she closed her eyes, lights flitting behind her eyelids as they rolled her out.

*

All Wendy wanted was a quiet day at the park, sitting on that one bench she had claimed as hers, underneath that big tree that provide enough shade so that Wendy won’t turn into the colour of cooked lobster by the time she was done transposing the sheet of music she had been paid to.

Years spent within dark auditoriums and air conditioned music rooms have trained her body to be receptive of certain temperatures.

The blinding sun that came with the effervescent spring was not one of them.

But Wendy digressed.

All Wendy wanted was some peace and quiet and as fate would have it, it was ruined.

Ruined.

By a pair of shoes.

She glared at the shoes, obnoxiously purple and deceptively innocent as they sat there on the ground as though they didn’t just make Wendy trip and fall face first into the sandbox. The offender in question, the untied white laces, laid in a mess of knots amidst fallen flower petals, obviously hastily abandoned by their owner.

Wendy continued to glare at the shoes, even as she stood up to dust the sand off her jeans and out of her hair. The grains scraped against her scalp, giving her an unintentional scrubbing and she groaned, thinking about the amount of time she would have to spend in the shower today as well as the inevitable screeching she would subject herself to when the water turned cold. Shaking her head, she gave the shoes a kick, watching as they rolled over without any resistance.

“Stupid shoes.”

She kicked them again and moved away, making her way slowly towards the bench that was solely just for her.

Before she sighed, turning around to pick up the abandoned, trouble making pair of shoes.

(Curse her sense of responsibility.)

She looked at them and once again, started speaking to the shoes.

“Why are you causing me so much trouble?”

The shoes, predictably, did not answer her back, instead choosing to gleam under the sun, the previously muted purple glittering like gold speckles upon a wedding cake. Pulling her face into a ghastly look, Wendy then cast her attention around the park, hoping to catch a glimpse of its wayward owner, letting out an irritated huff when she didn’t spot anyone walking around barefoot.

Sighing and resigning herself to a fate of a not peaceful day at the park, Wendy made her way slowly around the park, keeping an eye out for wayward humans who have decided to leave their shoes behind and become one with nature.

Soft chimes.

Wendy paused, her head tilting towards the sound, her ears twitching slightly.

(And in the midst of the murk and the vacuum that surrounded her ears-)

Music.

Transfixed by the sound, Wendy followed it, her head tilting towards the left so she could hear better, the tug at her heart pulling her forwards and towards the music, soft and magical as though a fairy princess had descended on a warm spring day.

And there, in the midst of the gently falling petals, pink and yellow whirling around the slide, where kids were standing by and completely hypnotised by-

Was that Sadako?!

Wendy’s heart jumped straight to when she noticed the figure producing such a pleasant melody, one that seemed to colour the air around her in the spectrum of rainbows, beautiful enough that even wayward kids were completely mesmerised, was actually a freaking horror story.

Her heart started to race and her mind told her to - get the heck out of there, this is how white people die, Wendy - when the figure turned around, black hair cascading past pale shoulders and oh wow.

If that was Sadako, Wendy can understand how white people died all the time.

The sun, in the background, created a weak halo, not even coming close to the ethereal beauty that stood before Wendy. The white dress blended in perfectly with the image of falling flower petals, as though the girl had walked straight out of a painting, a hallucination dreamt up by Wendy after walking in the heat for so long.

For only a hallucination can look that beautiful, scare the crap out of Wendy whilst simultaneously coaxing such beautiful music from a simple instrument, a melodica no less, lustrous enough that the world seemed to be laughing and crying at the same time, painting Wendy’s monochrome world a momentary rainbow.

She sighed and looked at the girl again, jumping back when she realised the girl on the slide was looking straight at her.

Her gaze was so piercing, it made Wendy feel like she was split open, all the softest, saddest, most terrible parts of her laid bare and she scrambled to tear her eyes away, not wanting this complete stranger to see the innermost part of her.

The girl stopped playing, her eyes widening at the sight of Wendy and then she shouted, causing everyone around her to jolt out of the beauty induced haze she had them in.

“Thief!”

Wendy looked around in surprise, wondering where the thief was when her eyes fell to the stranger’s feet-

Oh.

Oh no.

She was barefooted.

Wendy took a look at the shoes in her hand and cursed at them.

“You’re causing trouble again!”

“Give me my shoes back, thief!”

She looked up just in time to see the girl running at full speed, as though wanting to tackle Wendy.

With every bit of intelligence granted to her by the gods, Wendy threw the shoes at the fuming girl and took off, shouting over her shoulder as she did so.

“I didn’t take them! I found them!”

The girl, like everything that went wrong after Wendy had met with the stupid shoes, did not hear her, instead gaining speed and crashing into Wendy, her melodica thumping Wendy on the head with a solid thunk.

Christ.

All she wanted was some peace.

And those stupid shoes ruined it.

That was Wendy’s last thought before she started seeing stars.

*

“Again!!”

Her back stiffened at the sound of the raspy shout, fingers poised over the instrument yet again as she flipped the pages back to the first one. She took in a breath and started to play, the song at this point merely muscle memory, all notes and no emotion. She ran through the piece like water in a river, without pause or rest, swerving and moving in time with the untapped beat behind the sound of her heart in her ears.

Cough.

Her head tilted slightly, chin furrowed at the sound of a telltale fit.

Cough.

Her legs moved slightly but she continued the piece, her ears strained and poised for another-

Cough.

She abandoned the piece midway, choosing to instead focus her attention on her mother, the frail woman stifling her coughs, wet and sticky, while bracing her body on the wheelchair.

“Mother!”

A sharp slap resonated across the room.

On the musician’s cheek, a red welt formed, the aftermath of the hard slap the sick woman had given to her. She cupped her cheek tenderly and bit her lip hard, willing the tears to stop at the corners of her eyes.

(She was somewhat successful.)

“Did I say you could stop?! Again! From the top!”

She flinched when her mother raised her hand again, meekly going over to her abandoned instrument. She got ready to play again, this time trying hard to ignore the sound of her mother’s cough above the sound of thrumming in her ears.

Her fingers moved mechanically and the music started again.

(Not once did she notice the sound of her mother’s coughing overlapping the sound of music.)

*

The silence of the hall rang loud in her ears. The crowd held their breath as a collective, eyes trained on her as she moved to her position.

A deep intake of breath.

Her fingers, pale under the fluorescent light that lit the stage, curved with poise.

She looked from beneath her eyelashes, watching as the crowd observed her, all waiting for her to start.

Her ears fell deaf to the rush of blood, and the music, instead of being lost, was loud with every thrum of her heartbeat.

At the back of her mind, behind the notes that danced along with the melody of the piece she had long memorised, in the curves and bends of a memory, the image of the girl who had made it possible for her to stand at this very stage, that girl smiled at her.

And then-

*

“Why didn’t you just say?!”

Irene, Sadako’s actual reincarnate - Wendy is thoroughly convinced - laughed and smacked her in the shoulder, somehow loud despite her soft voice and wheezing breaths.

(Wendy was not the only casualty in the saga of the (not) stolen shoes as soon after she was knocked down by a five foot one girl and smacked in the head with a melodica, Irene had collapsed next to her, wheezing and coughing as though she had ran a marathon instead of just a short distance.

Just how out of shape was this girl?

Wendy shouldn’t judge, considering her own physical prowess but still.)

Wendy rubbed her sore shoulder with a pout and murmured dejectedly, the lump on her head throbbing with every word.

“I did. You didn’t listen.”

Irene laughed again, a soft chime that somehow managed to rival the tune she had churned out earlier and shook her head.

“Sorry. I can be quite stubborn and once I get a certain narrative in my head, I just-”

She waved her hand in a circle, which Wendy took to mean that she became a bull who chased down anything and everything, despite her lack of stamina. Shaking her head, Wendy glared at the purple shoes laying by Irene’s feet, once again cursing her lack of peace on an inanimate object.

“But anyways, it’s really nice to meet you, Wendy! I’ve actually been pretty excited to meet with you!”

“What?”

Wendy glanced back up at Irene, her eyebrows reaching sky high, causing Irene to laugh at what must be an extremely comical expression on Wendy’s face. The girl smacked Wendy’s shoulder again and spoke quickly.

“Don’t play coy! You’re kind of famous, you know! Wendy Son, the child prodigy of the classical world! I’ve been looking forward to the next competition just to hear you play!”

Wendy drew back, breaths coming in short as the ocean crashed at the edges of her hearing once again, the rainbow that had coloured her world earlier receding back to black and white. With difficulty, she spoke past clenched teeth, with a tongue that felt more like lead than the gold she should be feeling.

“I’m sorry. But I don’t play anymore.”

Irene’s smile dropped.

“What!?”

And then Wendy’s shoulder exploded in pain once again as the melodica collided with it.

*

“Come on, Wendy!”

Wendy jolted from her seat in fright when she realised Irene had somehow managed to hang herself upside down from the rafters just to convince (threaten) her to play again.

For some reason, though Wendy was thoroughly convinced that the gods were just being terrible and mean (by the way, superbly hashtag R double zero D rude, thank you, Hermes), Irene was actually enrolled into her school.

Which meant the torment that should have ended in the park had somehow turned into haunting her every waking hour.

(Sometimes, Wendy just wanted to shout Sadako at Irene just to see how the other girl would react.

Her throbbing shoulder reminded her that she shouldn’t.)

So far, Wendy has been attacked walking to the toilet, tackled as she was running across the field for her physical education class and most recently, nearly got smacked in the face with a flying kick that would have resulted in her being very dead as it happened on the stairwell.

Though this, Irene finally being the Sadako she was meant to be and haunting Wendy upside down with her hair flying in her face, was extremely new and if Wendy had any sense, she would run away screaming right now. However, Wendy’s common sense seemed to have taken an ill timed holiday at the moment and all she could focus on right now was how Irene’s usually pale face was turning suspiciously purple.

As though she was suffocating-

Her eyes travelled towards the tie that was tangled with Irene’s blazer.

Wendy yelped loudly.

“Oh my god, get down, you idiot! You’re currently cutting off your oxygen supply!!!”

Irene shook her head, her lips turning terrifyingly blue.

“Nuh uh! Not until you agree!!!”

Wendy stared at her in disbelief.

(What even was this girl?)

Irene’s lips turned from blue to black and Wendy answered hastily.

(It was just her luck to be in the vicinity of someone with a death wish.

Today was not the day to be arrested for homicide.

Not today, Satan!)

“Alright! Okay! Just get down from there, you are going to die!”

Irene grinned, looking like literal death and righted herself.

Meaning she fell straight onto Wendy like a pile of bricks, leaving Wendy to flounder to catch her and fail, as they both crashed into the ground with their fellow schoolmates looking on as though they were an act in the circus. Face burning red, Wendy got up quickly and tugged Irene along with her, barely giving the wheezing girl any time to recover from their encounter.

She led them to the music room and pushed Irene in, the wheezing girl stumbling slightly before righting herself. Crossing her arms, Wendy gave her a stare and pointed towards the bookshelf housing the music sheets.

“Pick one. I’ll play.”

Irene returned her stare with a look of her own, her breathing finally slowing down to a normal pace. She dusted her skirt off and flitted over to the shelf, calling out over her shoulder as she flicked through the impressive collection.

“How’s your sight reading?”

Somewhat offended, Wendy opened to retort, only for Irene to dismiss her own question.

“It should be fine, since you’ve been transposing for a part time job.”

Wendy’s eyebrows furrowed in the middle, somewhat disconcerted that Irene knew so much about her life.

“How did you- Are you a stalker?!”

A sheetbook smacked her in the face neatly.

“I saw you transposing stuff when I was trying to climb through your classroom window, idiot.”

Wendy rubbed at her nose gingerly and pouted.

“You didn’t have to hit me...”

Irene quirked an eyebrow and lifted the book up.

“Something from here.”

Wendy took the book and flipped through, her eyes taking in the lines and shapes with a practiced rove.

“How about-”

“I like March Funebre.”

(Why did you even ask me to choose?!)

Wendy pasted on a grin and made her way to the instrument, placing the manuscript onto the sheet stand and took her position. She breathed in deeply, well aware of Irene’s probing eyes at the side of her face, the other girl serious in a manner that unsettled Wendy.

(It was as though she had turned into a different person.)

Brushing the feeling away, Wendy flexed and cracked her knuckles, her eyes darting to the sheet once to refresh her memory on a well loved piece.

And she began to play.

The music room, once Wendy’s home, currently a place to contend with, filled with beautiful music, talented fingers coaxing out the most exquisite of sounds from a mere instrument. The song weaved and darted through the air, carried on by the well wishes of the artist, hope present with every note. Beside her, Irene had started to sway, eyes slipping shut to fully take in the artistry that was Wendy’s playing.

Wendy began to relax, fingers flowing fluidly as she moved on to the second verse, her eyes following the notes easily, moving onto the next stanza.

Where she slipped up for the first time, the wrong note ringing out loudly. Frowning again, Wendy pushed the mistake out of her mind, writing it off as she had lacked practice.

And then she missed her second note.

Her third.

And then she realised.

Silence had come.

Steadily.

Slowly.

As though she was underwater.

Her ears were muted.

She could no longer hear the music.

Instead, she heard-

Listen, Wendy!

No.

A horrible sound, a terrible sound, broke through her haze, her fingers forming fists and her nails dug into her palms. Shaking her head, Wendy lashed out and knocked the music stand, sheets flying through the air and barely missing Irene. The other girl moved forward, hand outstretched and Wendy pushed it away, snarling through gritted teeth as sweat dripped down her forehead.

“I told you! I don’t play anymore! Look at what you did!”

Irene looked stricken, a pale comparison to her usual cheery demeanour.

“Wendy- I’m-”

Wendy pushed her aside, her shoes dirtying the sheetbook and she warned the other girl menacingly, a finger pointed in her face.

“I hope you’re happy! Now stay away from me!”

She stormed out of the room, hearing nothing but the silent breaking of waves from the ocean that was slowly drowning her.

And a soft-

Wendy, I’m sorry.

*

Twang.

The harsh note of the instrument sounded through the quiet room as she threw the manuscript across the room. Her chest heaved with the effort that came from playing earlier, fingers clenched into the material of her skirt, script holder on the ground, the aftermath of her tantrum.

“Stupid.”

She cursed at herself, her weakness, her inability to feel the music and bit on her lip.

“It’s just a simple song.”

A song she cannot hear.

(Can she even play like this?)

*

She stopped coming around.

Wendy noticed it belatedly, missed noticing the presence of the Sadako incarnate amidst her hectic (not really) school hours and her part time job as a transposer.

And she only really noticed it because she saw that she kept ducking at random noises, especially at the sound of footsteps running in her general direction.

And after that, it was as though the floodgates opened, her world suddenly a little dimmer without the added excitement that was Irene fatally injuring her every time she cajoled her into playing a song.

By cajoled, Wendy meant countless hours spent nearly dying of fright whenever the dark haired girl appeared out of nowhere and the attempts on her life whenever Irene started becoming violent.

She will never forget the time the other girl tried swinging a chair at her.

And till this day, she thanked her lucky stars that Irene was that out of shape, as the other girl wobbled to one side almost immediately after lifting the chair above her head.

Actually, scratch that.

Maybe it was a good thing that Irene stopped hanging around.

Wendy looked around the empty classroom, staring at the stream of sunshine coming in through an open window and tugged at her necktie, feeling slightly suffocated.

At the back of her mind, the image of a girl who danced on top of a slide while playing a melodica, eliciting beautiful music from a simple instrument, lingered.

At the forefront of her mind, where oceans broke waves on black sand and lapped at nothing, the harsh words from their previous encounter.

She tugged at her necktie again.

Taking in a deep breath, she tossed her pencil down on the table and stood up abruptly, once again cursing the existence of a pair of purple shoes for her predicament.

“I suppose I should apologise for being rude.”

With that resolution, she walked out of the room.

When not even five minutes later, she was seduced once again by the sound of music.

*

Her feet moved her towards the music room, her head spinning as though she was in a trance. A song, familiar, light, home, filtered through her ears, filling the empty spaces of her heart with colours, filling the gaps of black and white left behind by a broken song. With each step she took, her chest felt light, without the crushing suffocation she carried with herself each day.

(Healing.

That’s the word.)

Her hand reached for the doorknob and she turned, walking into the room to a most wonderful sight.

Irene was in the middle of the room, the light from the sunset framing her body in a soft glow. Her movements, seemed to dance with the rays, as though a fairy had come to life with each note that resounded from the instrument.

In that moment, it seemed as though Irene was manipulating the light with just her music, feelings flowing like a breeze and reaching out to everyone who could hear it.

It’s different and light, unlike other classical musicians she’s seen.

It was original but with an underlying sadness that made her heart wrench.

An in-between.

A place Wendy could never reach.

Her nails scratched against the wooden surface of the door, the scraping sound pulling her away from the hypnotism that was Irene’s music. She took a breath and tried to shake off the tendrils of negativity that was starting to claw at her, her insecurities pulling at the colours that had her heart racing and-

“Wendy? I didn’t see you there!”

Wendy blinked, wondering just when did Irene stop playing.

(Was it when she was so lost within the constraints of her own making?)

The other girl smiled at her, fingers arranging the sheets in a precise manner.

“Did you hear me play?”

The lump in made it hard to speak, so Wendy settled for a nod, watching as Irene’s smile widened into a grin. The older girl waggled a finger at her before tilting her head to one side, curious eyes observing Wendy who was standing as still as a statue at the doorway.

(And forgot all about her original plan of apologising.)

“Then why didn’t you join me?”

Perhaps it was the resonance of the music from earlier.

Or the way Irene’s smile seemed to hide a kiss at the corner of her lips.

Whatever it was, it had Wendy answering truthfully, her tongue - usually leaden with weights of her guilt and her insecurities - light with words, her answer escaping past her lips before she could even form a conscious thought.

“I can’t play.”

She watched as a crinkle formed between Irene’s eyebrows, the other musician making her way towards Wendy and tugging her into the room. She followed easily, knowing from experience that Irene was stubborn and was very willing to use force to get what she want, even though it made her breathless each time.

(Irene’s lack of stamina was somewhat ironic, considering just how energetic she got when she was harassing Wendy or playing her songs with great passion.)

“Why can’t you play?”

Irene sat Wendy down on the piano bench, taking her place next to the younger brunette. Her eyes, previously curious, were now sharp, scanning Wendy with the precision of lasers.

It reminded her of when her mother would observe her as she played, sharp and mindful of any mistakes Wendy might make.

(The song was fading once more.)

Just before the music faded completely, Wendy answered robotically, slipping back into the persona that was easy.

(The persona everyone left alone after she stopped playing beautiful music.)

“I can’t hear the music anymore.”

“What?”

Irene’s surprise was nearly lost with the silence of the room, impossible for Wendy to catch if they weren’t sitting so close together.

(Detach. Detach.

If Wendy detached from her reality then she won’t-)

She answered monotonously, keeping her gaze trained on the piano, her mind drowning in the black in front of her.

“I lost the ability to hear the music when my mother died.”

No.

That wasn’t right.

Everything is for you, Wendy.

Then why won’t you listen to me?!

“No, that’s not right... What I meant was music was lost to me, when my mother was lost to me.”

(Did she truly have her mother even before her death?

No.

She can’t be thinking like this.

She can’t blame her mother for this.

Wendy was the one to blame.)

She focused on Irene’s breathing, refusing to meet the other girl’s eyes.

“When she died, it’s like a shadow passed over me and took my ability to hear music. Which is why I can never play again.”

Without noticing - no - without her ability to hear the music that was lost, Wendy can never play like Irene.

Without forgiveness from her mother, Wendy will never be able to play again.

“I’m sorry about your mother, Wendy.”

Irene pat her hand lightly, a small gesture of comfort that started a fire of warmth under Wendy’s skin, pulling her away from the shell she made. The younger girl opened to reply, a generic, run of the mill comment that she had said one too many times over the course of three years before she closed with a click, her teeth gnashing together uncomfortably when Irene continued to speak.

“But will you always let her shadow hold you back from going for the one thing you love the most?”

No.

I will not forget.

Wendy, you must never forget.

Wendy instinctively drew away, her need to defend her current self (her reason for her loss of music) overriding any logic that Irene might spew. Her escape was hindered when Irene held onto her hand tightly, hidden strength behind bony fingers, forcing Wendy to face the questions that she had avoided from everyone who wanted her to continue music in the past three years.