Piano Boy

My neighbor, Ethan, was a piano prodigy. Awards piled up before he even turned sixteen. But then he met Sarah, a girl from my class. He let her sit, giggling, on his beloved Steinway while she kissed him. For her, he ditched practice, trashed the piano, and spiraled. So, I told his parents.

Ethan was shipped off to a music conservatory in Austria. Years later, he became a huge success, a shining star in the entertainment industry. And me? I landed an internship at his company, hoping to break into the music scene myself. He barely glanced up, pointed at me, and said, "Her."

That night, my manager got me drunk and delivered me to the hotel rooms of various investors. Ethan stood in the doorway, a cigarette dangling from his lips, a smirk playing on his face. "Consider this a thank you for your little tip-off all those years ago."

I didn't survive that night. The assault was brutal. I woke up, back in my junior year of high school, before any of it happened.

"Wouldn't it be awesome to bring a guy like that down a peg or two?" Sarah, my best friend, mused, chin resting in her hand. "He’s got such a serious look about him. Wonder what he’s like to kiss?"

Across the street, silhouetted against the window, sat Ethan, all of eighteen years old. My breath hitched. I looked at Sarah, that same look of predatory amusement in her eyes, like she was about to bag herself a prize. Back then, I’d thought she was all talk. Then, that very night, I’d seen her perched on his piano, kissing him.

I was back. I slammed the window shut, my heart pounding against my ribs. "I need to study," I said, trying to sound normal. "You should probably head home."

Sarah pouted. "Aren't you curious? I thought you had a crush on him."

My stomach twisted. Seventeen-year-old me had made two monumental mistakes: crushing hard on Ethan without ever saying a word, and then ratting him out for dating Sarah. He’d hated me for it, for six long years. Hated me enough to destroy me as payback.

The memory of that freezing night flooded back. I clenched my fists, biting my lip hard enough to draw blood.

"No," I said, my voice steady. "I’ve never had a crush on him."

Sarah grinned, a sly, knowing look in her eyes. "Good. 'Cause, you know, Ethan and I are kinda a thing now. Didn’t want to, like, freak you out or anything.”

Déjà vu. Sarah was playing her usual games. She was infamous for it. Every cute guy in school had been through the Sarah cycle. She was loud, rebellious, everything a good girl wasn’t supposed to be. But that kind of girl had a pull on guys like Ethan, the quiet, rule-following type.

I remembered my dying moments, my hand, scarred with cigarette burns, clutching at Ethan's crisp white shirt. "Even if you hate me," I’d choked out, "you shouldn’t do this."

He’d looked down at me, a cruel twist to his lips. "And how should I deal with it, Quinn? If it wasn't for you, Sarah wouldn't have married that loser, wouldn't have died in childbirth. Why should she be dead an...