The Music Box

The young boy scrambled into his room, the sound of his father yelling behind him. He acted quickly, sliding the dining room chair he had against the doorknob, falling back as he heard his father pound on the door. He covered his ears, willing the sound away as he went into his closet, closing the door behind him.

He felt tears pricking his eyes, but pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes. He wasn’t going to cry again, not over this man. Once the yelling calmed, October felt around in the dark until his hands found the wooden music box.

He picked it up, looking it over and sighing. The box had been a gift from his mother, before she had passed away. It was the only thing he had left to remember her, the only thing his father hadn’t gotten rid of yet.

He wound it up, opening the lid and watching the little ballerina inside spin, playing the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. The tears that he thought he’d pushed back now spilled over, running down his cheeks as he hugged the music box close, wishing that he could see her one last time.

The memories of his mother holding him, soothing him played in his head. There were many good memories, the time they went to the zoo and October had found his favorite animal, a lion. The day he went to dance lessons for the first time and found his niche. There were bad memories, too -- the days where his mother would be kneeling in front of him, smearing foundation and concealer on his skin to hide the dark bruises so the teachers wouldn’t question, the days that she would just cry and hug him close.

He wished he could just see her one more time. To tell her he’d be okay, that she didn’t have to worry about him. All he had now, though, was the music box. The most precious gift he’d ever received.