Songs from Hell

Betrayal. Guilt. Depression. Stress. Fury. Name one negative emotion that Isla Padovesi hasn't felt. After going through the death of her loved Grandfather, Isla feels her father is a guilty traitor - to her. She believes he wants her to forget her Grandfather and, as she grows, their relationship shatters. She grows darker and colder to him. He seems to ignore her altogether. At least, till she finds out the truth behind his ignorace.

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2. Chapter 1

I slowly lifted the blanket off my head. A stream of light shone through the window, illuminating the photograph of my Grandfather on my desk. He is a hero to me; wherever I go, I take him with me. Every day, every morning, every night, I look at his photograph and ask him, "Why was it you who had to leave the face of the earth?" Despite my tremendous feelings, I always tried to keep my emotions to myself. 

After a moment of silence, I decided to get ready for work. The Maller Café, where I worked, is usually busy in the early mornings with both men and women finding a quick coffee and muffin before heading to the office. Being that way, I depart for work around 8 am and arriving back at 3 pm, picking up Jasper from school on the way back.

The Café, however, was unusually empty this morning. What could cause people not to come here? It seemed too quiet. The silence seemed to mimic my grieved thoughts in a queer manner and I shuddered. Sighing quietly, I hunted through my skirt pocket and pulled my harmonica out. My Grandfather gave me the harmonica when I was young, and I never kept it out of sight. It is a symbol of him...it gives me something to remember him, who I have not seen in a time.

It was not too late that people began to come in the café, even though they were not as many as I had expected. I put on my usual, over-cheery face and began serving as was my duty. Time crawled by and not too soon, my co-worker flipped the 'Closed' sign away from us, signalling the end of the work day. I put my harmonica into my dark blue rucksack, swung it over my shoulder and headed out of the door on my way to school to pick Jasper up.

"Hey Jasper, was school okay?" I asked Jasper as I wrapped my arm around his shoulder.

"Yeah, it was pretty okay. Just did the same old work, you know," Jasper sighed. I knew school had bored him out, but it is his last year. I gave me an encouraging smile and we walked through the park, back home. 

As we approached the main door of our house, I heard a sort of thunderous banging. And then someone screamed angrily. I pushed the door open, totally worried as to what was going on. What I saw made me gasp sharply and my eyes felt hot.

At the dining table, my fury-faced father was shouting at my mother in a completely ballistic manner. This act horrified me so rashly and I felt anger drill in my body. I lunged towards my father, grabbed his hand and forcefully pulled him away from my mother. It torments me so much to think he is shouting at my mother; what bad could she do? What wrong could she have done that was more than all the wrong he had done to us?

"Father, stop! Stop!! Stop it!" I commanded him hoarsely. Boiling tears started streaming down my face. "I hate you! You liar! Go away! You traitor!"

"Isla, please!" Mother pulled me away from my father as briskly as she could, afraid that I would hit him. 

"Stop trying to torture everyone like you tortured me," I barked furiously, at my father, trying to control my emotions, and added - in a low, grim voice - "like you tortured the memory of my Grandfather."

My father just stood there, as still as he could be, watching.

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