Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 124135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
I didn’t want to be dark and empty inside anymore.
I no longer wanted the anger.
I wanted to live.
“I was at another concert,” I said, instantly reliving the past. “I had just walked offstage…and I flipped…”
“Son! That was amazing!” My dad came around the corner of the wings. The audience was still applauding in the theater, but all I felt was anger. Red-hot anger ripping through my veins. I ripped off my bow tie and threw it to the ground. My mobile vibrated in my pocket.
Nick: Can’t believe you bailed again. Missed a great night. My friend was texting me again.
“Son?” my dad said. I closed my eyes and counted to ten.
“I’m done,” I said when the anger didn’t go.
“What?”
I pushed past him and headed to the dressing room. I slammed the door open and reached for my bag. I needed out of this tux before it strangled me.
“Cromwell.” My dad shut the door, keeping out the world. Because that’s all he ever did, kept me locked away creating music. No childhood, hardly any friends, and no fucking life.
“I’m done.” I threw my jacket on the floor. I put on my T-shirt and jeans. My dad watched me, a confused look on his face.
“I…I don’t understand.” His voice shook. It almost made me stop, but I couldn’t. I knew Lewis had been out there tonight. The composer he’d tried to convince to take me under his wing. But I was done. I was so fucking done.
I spread my arms. “I don’t have a life, Dad!” I shouted. “I have no close friends, no hobbies but music, and nothing to do but write symphonies. Play music. Classical music.” I shook my head, and I knew that now I’d started I wouldn’t be able to stop. “You’ve shopped me around to as many concert halls as you could. Enrolled me in more orchestras than I could count and whored me out to any composer that thought he could teach me something. But none of them could.” I laughed, almost faltering when my dad’s face paled. “This is so easy to me, Dad. The music I create just pours from me. And once upon a time I loved it. Lived for it. But now?” I pushed my hands through my hair. “Now I hate it.” I pointed in his face. “You have made me hate it. Pushing me. Always pushing me.” I laughed. “I’m not a damn soldier, Dad. Not one of your squaddies you can bark orders at and I’ll fall in line.” I shook my head. “You’ve taken the one thing I loved from me by taking away my fun. My passion. You’ve ruined it for me. You’ve ruined me!”
The room was thick with tension as I tried to calm down. I eventually lifted my head to see my dad looking at me. He was stricken. Tears were in his eyes. My heart cracked at seeing my dad, my hero, so hurt by my words. But I couldn’t take them back. Anger had me in its hold.
“I…I was just trying to help you, Cromwell,” he said, voice cracking. He stared at the tux discarded on the floor. “I could see your potential, and I just wanted to help.” He shook his head and loosened his tie. My father was always dressed to perfection. Not a thing out of place. “I have no talent, son. I…I can’t understand what lives within you. The colors. The music.” He swallowed. “I was just trying to help.”
“Well you didn’t.” I threw my bag over my shoulder. “You ruined it. You ruined it all.” I pushed past him and threw open the door.
I had just stepped into the corridor when he said, “I love you, Cromwell. I’m sorry.” But I kept walking, not saying anything in return. I never went home that night, for once getting drunk and staying out with people my own age…
“He was gone the next day when I came home. Left for the next tour that would last nine months.” A dagger stabbed in my stomach.
“Cromwell. You don’t have to—”
“It was only four days later when they took him,” I blurted out. Now that I was talking, I was unable to stop. “They took him and his men.” I remembered my mum coming in to tell me. I remembered my heart pounding in my chest, so loud I could hear it in my ears. I remembered my legs shaking so much I didn’t think I’d be able to walk. And remembered my lungs becoming so heavy that I couldn’t breathe. And all I could see was my dad’s face in the dressing room. When I’d struck him in the heart with my words.
“It was months before they were found.” Bonnie shifted closer and pulled my head to her chest. I wrapped my arms around her waist. I held on, distantly noting the odd sound of her heart underneath my ear. “There was a knock at the door one day. When my mum answered, it was a man from the army. Mum sent me to my room. But the minute she walked in the door, I knew. I knew the minute I saw my father’s dog tags in her hand.”