"I want you to play the piano for me", He said.

At least that what I think he said. And words left me. I stared into those bright green eyes as my face washed blank with confusion, those eyes that were the ones that told of many secrets but held them locked in a strong box so beautiful that you wouldn't dare to open in fear of what you might find within. It was nothing he did precisely; it just looked as if he had a secret you would enjoy hearing about. My brain cogs couldn't turn fast enough to take in the information from my wide eyes. I was thinking he would ask me of something wacky, like him. Heck! I wouldn't be surprised if he threw around oil-covered beans and asked me to pick up every single one of them with a pair of chopsticks. But this? Play him the piano! I was at a loss for words.

"Yo turtle, you there with me? Why are you looking at me like I just told you to go dig up a hole and bury yourself in it?" He raised a brow.

"W-Why are you calling me that? Don't call me that!" I carped in displeasure, my focus totally off the topic.

"Why? What's wrong with it? Do you rather prefer Tink?" He raised his brows in amusement as he eyed my dark green t-shirt with 'I AM AWESOME' engraved in it in murky colors.

"No! I don't, I..."

"Well then it's settled. Turtle it is. I will meet you tonight after dinner in the hall of honors, in front of the picture of that ancestor grandpa of mine." Despite the guy being rude I couldn't deny the perky sense of humor the guy sometimes displayed. I hid a small smile at his choice of words. Until I recalled what he wanted from me. Anxiety unnerved me as he took an about turn to leave.

"Wait! I...I can't!" I said in mere tautness.

"What do you mean you can't?" He turned around to look at me, his brows were knitted together in all grimness, like he was trying to understand a weary piece of puzzle but failing miserably.

"It means I can't play the piano for you", I shook my head in distress.

"Are you telling me that you won't pay me back for my help?" His frown became more prominent as he peered at me in discontent, clearly not happy with my response. It seemed like he was the kind of guy who didn't do well with rejections.

"N-No! Of course not. I ...I'm really grateful to you for helping me just now but... (sigh) why do I have to play the piano for you?" My brain was like an old rusty compass and Eric Warnard was the Bermuda Triangle. Unreadable. I didn't understand what he wanted, what he was thinking or doing half the time. So, I asked the million dollar question, as my wearisome curiosity decided to finally rear its head up.

To describe his facial expression would be like describing a blank sheet of paper. He could have been in a coma for all the life his face showed. But this was the way he greeted my eyes and I knew he didn't want to answer me as he said, "Why do you ask so many questions?"

"Because I want to know what you really want from me."

"That's not important. All you need to do is play me a piece every night until I say we stop, and we are good," His sudden cold deportment shocked me. Like I was nothing more than a mere pawn in his great game of conquest. His mood swings really made my brain cells feel like they have been randomized.

His stare of vexation was so intense I couldn't will my lips to move. As if stuck underwater, everything was slow and warbled as he spoke first, "If you really wanna show your appreciation then be there without further arguments tonight. I will see you later."

"Wa-Wait!" But he was gone like the fickle gust of summer wind.

...••••...

There it goes again, my inner dialogue, but it's not my friend. It whispered to me, "Everything has gone wrong; no way back, disaster..." The world seemed closer to my eyes and the air became soupier. My thoughts scattered like there was an electrical storm in my head, too many short-circuits to make any sense. All the while the only thing that comes through is 'What are you doing? You know you can't play for him. What are you gonna do ...'

I felt the need to move almost without end; if my limbs were moving the anxiety was gone, or at least I could ignore it a while. So I was pacing back and forth my room like a caged tiger.

"What has got you so worried?" Lena couldn't help but ask. But I couldn't really answer her. What was I supposed to say anyway?

"It's nothing. We've got a trig exam tomorrow and I am a bit tensed. Don't worry about it!" I tried to smile at her in reassurance but I doubted I did a decent job at it since she seemed unconvinced, but fortunately decided not to pry any longer.

...••••...

Eric was resting against the stone pillar with a face of utter nonchalance, as if he were merely waiting for a bus on a spring day, apple in hand. He wasn't slumped at all, his body was clearly very muscular for that, yet it was just as relaxed as his face. He was almost smiling - smiling as if something good were about to happen. The world fell through my feet as I watched him hidden from one of the dark corners that existed within the crevices of Verona High. Good for him was likely bad for me. Very bad.

Debating over whether I should go meet him after all or just make a quick escape was a difficult decision to make. But during my dilly dallying I heard Eric's sigh about a hundred times as time passed me by. Before long more than half an hour had passed since the appointed time and now that nonchalant glee was no longer visible in his posture as the guy looked ready to kill. I was still hidden from his sight, however I couldn't gather up the courage to face the guy after making him wait for so long. Maybe because I was half scared that he would come find me in the middle of the night and try to murder me in cold blood for not showing up. He looked that menacing.

While my contemplations kept tussling against each other Eric finally made his way out of the hall, very probably in silent fury. At that moment, I felt something close to guilt because of the guy, but what could I do. I couldn't have really met Eric Warnard's demands anyway.

The next few days...well, they had been pretty perturbing. The constant daunting feeling of anxiety and fear of Eric Warnard capturing me was getting to me. Since I kept escaping each of his attempts to ambush me, the guy was very much like a goaded lion at the moment, and that didn't sit well with me. I was gnawing on my inner cheek again as fear thoughts looped around in my mind until there was no room for anything else. The "loop" played like this. 'If he catches me, he will grill me alive. But what if he can never catch me, then I don't have to worry about a thing, right? But for how long can I run? He will eventually get to me. What do I do then? Go along with my original plan and kick him in his balls and make a run for it? Which will obviously turn him into an avenging demon, or should I submit to him and tell him the truth. What should be the right course of action? What should I ...'

"You seem to be too deep in thoughts," Dilyla Adwell peeked up from behind me.

I jerked away in surprise and almost screamed a heart attack, "Gosh Dilyla! You almost scared me to death."

"Did I?" She passed me a mischievous look as she grinned. "Dear Sara, what has got you so riled up? I'm curious."

"Nothing really. I'm just a bit tired is all." I shrugged.

"Really? So...Eric Warnard's many waylayings is not one of the reasons you look so out of shape?" I widened my flabbergasted eyes and a pirate grin sat on her lips as if to show she knew it all. "What! You didn't think I would notice?" She smirked, "Eric Warnard is one of the many great mysteries of Verona High and I, for one am so going to solve him. Now his sudden interest in you is not only very suspicious but also weird. As far as I know, Eric Warnard has never been interested in any human being on campus. Before you that is. And according to my observations, it's not romantic. Then what is it? What does he want from you Sara?" The girl was too snoopy for her own good.

"It's nothing like what you are thinking," I tried to sway her attention knowing it would do me no good if she pokes her nose into my business anymore than this. Eric might be after my blood if he thought I was spreading rumors about him.

"It's okay if you don't want to share Sara, I will find out eventually." She smiled merrily and left my field of vision leaving behind sour aggravation. I didn't know whether she was trying to infuriate me on purpose or was just being naive, but she really needed to stop being nosy if she wanted to make friends.

...••••...

I really must've crossed Eric Warnard's line of patience, if not he wouldn't be this impetuous and I wouldn't be dragged out of Mr. Miers' classroom like I was a lifeless sack of potatoes.

Mr. Miers' class was one of the few classes I never missed, not only because of the quirky nature of the good old teacher but also I was interested in pursuing a medicine career in the future. I enjoyed the subject. But now I wished I had skipped today's class when Eric Warnard, was seldom showed up for any classes barged in through the door and his eyes were hooked on me as he took his usual seat in the far end of the classroom. I closed my eyes and heaved a long sigh to calm myself down. And I muttered in my head, 'He wouldn't dare do anything with so many spectators around, and much less in a classroom.' When Mr. Miers finally entered the classroom and greeted all of us like usual my fears dissipated and I let out a breath I was holding in. At that time, I had no idea I was in for a very dreadful surprise. But I was about to find out pretty soon.

I was merrily taking notes as Mr. Miers was going through the topics on genetic drift when Warnard, abruptly got up from his seat and suddenly slammed his hands on the desk, surprising everyone in the process and dashed to me in a mad rush. Before I could even comprehend what was going on he seized me by the wrist and the very next minute I was being hauled out of the class and into the empty hallways of Verona High. The loud gasps and buzz we left behind in the classroom was still discernible to my ears.

Fear is a part of being human they say. I think I was feeling pretty human now. "Wha-What are you doing? Where are you taking me?" I asked in panic since I was trying but failing wretchedly to get my wrist freed from his grasp.

"...Somewhere quiet." Was his only response. That was not a good omen.

"Somewhere quiet!" I yelped in dread. I could almost see the doom I was being led to. Would someone come for me if I yelled for help?

Before long we were stocked into a dark damp place, which I figured to be the janitor's room. Darkness came like the thick velvet curtains of the theatre. It was as if the daytime had been one part of a play and the rest was to come after this intermission of night. The place was clouded with dust and I could somehow make out the scenery inside the room due to the little specks of light that seeped in through the clefts of the door and the windows. What was with him and the darkness?

He whirled around to look at me, I could hardly make out his face in the dimness but I saw his eyes. His eyes shone a desolation hard to fathom. There was anger, anguish and recklessness soaking in something close to fear dancing within the atmosphere. His eyes, that were boring into me seemed hungry of something, desperate to fill his own needs that could only be done by trespassing and taking what wasn't his. "Now, what should I do with you?" He nearly growled, making me shudder.

"Wha-What do you mean?" I didn't realize I was shaking until he held me firm against the soggy wall of the room.

"You know very well what I mean. You deserve a fair amount of punishment for breaching our deal. Were you planning on ditching me from the very start?" He narrowed his green eyes at me.

I in turn, shook my head with all my might. "No! Of course not, I ..."

"You what." His eyes overcast in raw fury and all words were stuck to my throat. It seemed like I prodded a provoked beast.

"N-Nothing! I'm sorry." I muttered under my breath.

"You know I don't understand you sometimes turtle. Your words and your actions are so divergent you puzzle me. One moment you stalk me and the next you run away from me." As if he was the one to talk. I mean his words and actions pulled in opposite directions as if his brain's narrator and navigator had entirely different ideas about the world.

"And you don't speak much, so I hardly know what goes on inside that big head of yours?"

As if he was the most talkative fellow on earth. Wait, Big head!

His breath drew closer, as his closeness to me. He smelled nice. "What are you thinking Turtle? Why didn't you come that night?" There was an entreat in his voice that I couldn't overlook.

"I...I can't play the piano for you," I held my head low and squeaked in a small voice.

"...It is not I won't, but can't?" He asked in a prudent manner. His earlier vindictiveness gone with the wind.

"Yes..." I replied.

"Why?"

I sighed deeply as I knew there was no escape to this question. As much as I hated being reminded of the past. The horrors of that night, I had to tell him, else he would never leave me alone. But I was not going to open up my wounds for free. "I'm sure you've heard of equivalent exchange. Tell me your secrets and I will tell you mine."

He eyed me for an split second and groaned in defeat, "Alright. But only one question, what do you want to know?"

"Why do you want me to play the piano for you?"

"Because your music inspires me." He replied in a flat voice.

"Inspires you! Are you an artist?" I frowned in confusion and he hid a small smile, "In a way, yes. I'm a song writer and I am writing the most significant song of my life. My one and only masterpiece, and I want your help to write my piece."

"...A song writer?" It took a second or two for the new information to sink in, amazement didn't quite cover it. I felt like someone just took my spark of wonder and poured kerosene on it.

He laughed at my awed expression. A genuine cheerful laugh. It was like chimes to my ears, something I least expected from the guy in such a situation. He chuckled to himself and said, "Don't look so shocked turtle, I may not look the type but I am a songwriter. I'm not lying." I shook my head in retort as I blushed and muttered, "No, it's not that I don't believe you. It's just that...I was not expecting something like that."

"Oh! What were you expecting then? Please do tell." Amusement returned to his emerald eyes as he questioned me. Now I couldn't tell him that I suspected him to be the immortal devil who was trying to get close to me to seal some death deal with me. Well...I didn't exactly think that, but I expected something out of the ordinary from him.

"N-No. It's nothing really. Don't worry about it." I kept shaking my head vehemently, begging him to drop the topic. He just chuckled again and finally decided to cut me some slack, "Alright. I won't pry anymore. Now, as promised; what is your secret?"

I sucked in a long breath before letting myself be pulled back into the horrors of that night. The night my life took a turn for the worst. I felt the muscles of my chin tremble like a little child and I looked at the darkness past Eric's pretty face, willing it to somehow soothe me. And I started, "My dad...he was an excellent pianist. He was the one who taught me to play the piano. He used to love my music and often dosed off listening to me play. That's how I became obsessed with it. My parents were busy people but my dad always took time out for me. Then we used to go to concerts and plays and we used to argue and discuss about all kinds of music." I laughed at the memory of it, "We were nerds that way and it was fun, it was my way of bonding with my dad. And on one such fun night, I lost him in an accident." My eyes dripped with tears. My walls, the walls that hold me up, make me strong just...collapsed. But yet I willed myself not to cry in front of a stranger. "I was in the car with him. It was late and we were coming back from a concert. We were arguing over some stupid issue about music and I was being obstinate as always. Dad was looking at me and laughing, but he was still not ready to give in. And he didn't see the truck approaching us. I was distracting him, so he didn't see. And it was too late after." I was reliving that moment again, my eyes now focused in the past. There was a static drift in my head, the side effect of this constant stress I lived with. I could hear the sounds and noises of that night again. The screeching of tires, the blowing of horns, the siren of the 911, the pain was raw from the inside. It took something out of me I didn't know I had left to give. That's the way it is when people were hurt. It's like a theft of the spirit, an injury no other person can see. If only I knew what I know now. If only I knew what those numbers meant. If only ..." The next thing I remember, is the grey ceiling of the hospital and mom's grieving cries when I came to my senses. I lost my dad that day and also my ability to play music. I was severely hurt but my hands took the heavy blow. I had to go into eight months of rehabilitation before I could move my hands freely again." I sucked in another hard breath, "But I have never been able to play music since. Not in front of people. I have panic attacks and my fingers tremble in fright whenever someone is watching me."

I looked at him with pleading eyes and said, "I can't play for you Eric. I'm suffering from scopophobia."

TO BE CONTINUED...