"I'm going!" I yelled as I put my sneakers on.

"Take care, honey," I heard Hunter replied, imagining the snicker on his face as he tried to imitate our mom.

Rolling my eyes, I headed to my car. Twirling the keys on my fingers before igniting the engine. My jeep roared into life, and I drove away from home.

The sun was already high up in the sky, although the heat radiating off it made me warm, but not enough for me to shriek and hide back at the house. The cold wind blew and I hugged myself a bit. Memories ran through my head like a rolling movie clip, and I inhaled deeply, the scent of morning dew filled my nostrils.

I could get used to this.

But I knew I couldn't. Though, I didn't let that fact ruin my day. Instead, I enjoyed every last bit of sunlight until I arrived at the familiar three-story house.

The house was surrounded by white metal fences, with a Victorian-aged iron gate intimidatingly positioned in the middle. Through the gaps, I could clearly see the well-tended lawn; greens and reds and yellows and pinks swayed as another rush of wind blew.

I pressed my horn, and an old man in a suit came seconds later. Seeing me, he smiled and opened the automatic gates. He bowed and greeted me, and I felt the need to greet back, so I nodded my head and grinned. I drove inside, parking in the driveway like I usually did, and got out of the car.

I walked towards the doorstep. I was about to ring the doorbell when I caught my reflection on the glass wall.

"Fuck!" I muttered as I combed my hair down with my hands. When I was done taming, or at least trying to tame, my wild hair, I pressed the doorbell.

It rang throughout the whole mansion, and I cringed as the sound hit me head first. I was a little sensitive to loud noise, so I ended up backing away from the door. My eyes automatically closed, and my hands were up against my ears.

That was when I heard a chuckle. It was livelier than the chimes of the bells, and I instinctively smiled. I was welcomed with a familiar sight of a woman who, at first glance, looked utterly sophisticated. She was clothed in a baby blue tube dress. It had a plunging heart neckline, and ruffles that started on her thin waist, and ended just an inch above her knees. Her hair was in its usual bun, and she was wearing the diamond rose necklace that the woman inherited from her great-grandmother.

For an onlooker, she would have looked like a 20-something-year-old. A compliment that any 38-year-old mother with three kids would be ecstatic to hear. At least that was what she told me the first time I said, "Oh my God! You could have passed to be 20!"

Claudia welcomed me with a warm hug, which I returned as enthusiastic as I could.

"Glad to see you, Autumn!" she said and ushered me inside.

Laughing, I replied, "You just saw me yesterday, Claudia."

"So? That was so yesterday."

I shook my head as she held open the door to the music room. She excused herself, told me that she would fetch Darla and to make yourself at home.

Without idling too much, I walked towards the grand piano that was strategically placed in the centre of the room. I sat on the black bench and ran my fingers lightly over the keys. And as my hands landed on top, I pressed a key. And the key turned into a sequence of melodies. Until I was playing the full Moonlight Sonata. My fingers flew in a quick manner that, even if I opened my eyes, I wouldn't catch the direction where they were going.

Notes after notes came, and with a deep exhale, my hands rested on top of the keys. I looked around, a bit uncomfortable with the possibility of someone hearing my anger-playing. Even in my ears, I sounded mad. The soft, sad song became a wild, angry woman who was screaming her lungs off. And maybe, that was I at that moment.

Until someone broke my trance.

He walked inside with an awfully arrogant aura around him. My eyebrow raised as I took in his attire. He was sporting a pair of pyjamas-- with cute teddy bears in print!

He might have noticed the incredulous look that I had on since he could not help but say, "Hold that comment on your tongue."

I raised my hands in surrender. He strode in and did I mention that he still looked smoking hot with those ridiculous bunny slippers?

"Sup?" I said.

He smirked as he took note of my calm composure. He always had that look as if he knew what was going on in my head.

"Seems like my charm still has no effect on you, huh," he commented, and I could not help but roll my eyes.

"Finn, I don't think those PJ's are appealing in the first place," I replied and chuckled.

He feigned hurt, and with an overly-shrill voice, he said, "What is wrong with these overly cute and pink PJ's? The effort I put into this is endless!"

"Yeah right, girly. I think weird is more appropriate than cute."

His put his hand on his hip whilst giving me a pointed look. "You just don't have any fashion sense."

"Uh huh." I started to press the keys again, trying to decipher whether it was in tune. "What are you doing here anyway?"

He was only about to open his mouth when the door burst open and closed with a loud thud. Standing there, in her all pink glory, was Darla herself. She was dressed in a light pink tube top with glittery sequins, pink leggings from her waist down to her knees, and to complete the look, a pink tutu.

She was scowling at me as usual, and I sighed. I turned to look at Finn, and he waved goodbye as he slipped past the door and left me with the little reincarnation of Lucifer. Now that I thought about it, She and Hunter would be a perfect match.

"Good morning," I greeted and forced an enthusiastic smile, which she returned with a glare. Ignoring her evil looks, I clapped my hands and said, "Shall we start?"

"Yeah, whatever." She strutted towards my way and sat down beside me. "Let's just get this over with."

One thing about Darla was that she hated the piano. Why? Because she, quote-unquote, had little fingers. It made it harder for her to press the keys, or so she claimed. However, I never tell her this so shut your tramp; she played beautifully. Like the jaw-droppingly beautiful kind of music that could make you stop what you were doing and blatantly stare.

Sometimes, I asked myself if she was deaf. I mean, how could you scrutinize yourself when you play like that?

"God! Why can't I get this part right?!" She screamed in frustration. Her little hands slammed the keys and created a loud noise. Automatically, I winced.

Covering my ears as she continued to recklessly punch the keys, I tried to soothe her nerves. "But you got it right. You just have to linger a bit longer on the last note." I explained. And no, I was not lying when I said that she got it right. This was what I meant when I said that she was hard on herself. Always, and I mean always, looking for flaws for everything she had done. And I didn't know why.

I played the part again, this time more slowly. She eyed my fingers and watched me like a hawk. I made her do it twice, but she pushed herself for several more tries.

Finally, she was satisfied with how she played. She stood up from the bench, thanked me like she was Her Highness herself, and exited the room without a second glance.

♬ ♫ ♪♬ ♫ ♪

Edited by iElzMC