Music Mary

A girl who is abused everyday and finally is pushed to her extent, but she lives even in death.

published on April 053 reads 3 readers 0 completed
My last day

My last day

Music Mary

  Mary loved 2 things in her life: her music box and green sour apples.
  The box was a gift from her late mother. It was soft black velvet. Inside was a stain glass rose with a translucent green stem and dark red petals. She had played it so much- especially after her mothers death- the music from 'ring around the rosy' sounded worn down, sluggish, and beat up, but she still kept it. The key stayed around her neck at all times.
  With Raven black hair straight as a board reaching just past her shoulders and bright, twinkling green eyes, her facial features seemed enhanced and gentle, but her father wasn't. He grew bitter after Denyse died. His grief turned into anger, and was directed at Mary. Some nights he'd fall asleep before he attacked her, but on others, he'd beat her black and blue.
  Mary was a shy girl, unable to stand up for herself. Slowly, her own anger built up towards Kevin, who was he to hurt her like she was a punching bag? At first, these thoughts frightened her. But, as time passed, and the beatings got worse, she accepted them, sort of like a comforting pillow.
  After each bought, Mary would unlock her music box and listen to it. Not long into the melody, she'd fall asleep. One day, Kevin had been drinking. Mary was wearing her baggy black, long sleeved ACDC shirt with her black torn leggings. After arriving home from school, she lay on her bed, head hanging off the edge, listening to her music box.
  He father slammed open the door, staggering inside, using her doorframe for support. He held a bottle in one hand. His cloths were rumpled up and messy, and his tie draped around his neck, partially tied. Looking around the room, he grunted.
  "Clean up this damn room."
  She sat up tentatively, not wanting to attract a lot of his attention.
  "But it is clean," she countered quietly.
  "Excuse you?"
  He set the bottle on her dresser and staggered over to her. Mary winced back as he grabbed a handful of her hair. He yanked her off the bed and shoved her against the wall.
  "Did you just back talk me?"
  Shaking her head as best she could she whimpered softly.
  "Oh, no? I think you did. Now your ungrateful and a lair."
  Mary tried to keep the tremble out of her voice. "I-I'm sorry...."
  She winced again, pulling as far as the wall would allow. Her ear drums rang from the sudden loud shout directly in her face. He grabbed her arm hard enough that bruises would form later, throwing her on the floor. Her head bounced off it, blurring her vision as tears threatened to spill out.
  She refused them the chance.
  Before Mary could recover, her dad was standing over her, his shadow as cold as a meat locker. Reaching down, he grabbed her neck, using it to pull her up. Choking, she grasped at his curled fingers, trying to pry them off. He started to squeeze, glaring mirthfully at her. With his free hand, he slapped and punched her. Her face turned red then purple. She made sobbing sounds as well as they'd come out, hitting his arms in feeble attempts to get him to let go.
  On the bed , undisturbed, the music box kept playing it twisted version of the child's song. At that moment, it seemed darker, more sinister than it ever had to Mary's ears. It was almost like it was morning her in her final moments. Feeling an odd sensation from within her core, Mary couldn't take her gaze from the box. It was like her soul was being forced out of her and into it.
  Finally, hot, salty tears poured down her cheeks. The usual spark in her green pools dimmed immensely as they rolled up inside her head. Her face was blotchy with dark purple and red spots, and, in her last moments of consciencness , she heard Kevin whisper "Shhhhh.....Listen to the music, Mary."
  He hadn't stopped between the two words at the end, not indicating a comma was there, his words slurred. To her it sounded like he had called her 'Music Mary'

  Music Mary loved 3 things in her afterlife: her music box, sour green apples and babies, because she couldn't have any if her own.
  Hiding in the shadows of a child's room, she finished her apple and slid her key into lock on her black velvet box. She twisted, and it gave with soft click. Music began to tinkle our slowly, the centerpiece, a rose, twisting in time with the music. This box was her lifeline. Should anything happen to it, she would cease to exist, keeping it pristine and fed was crucial in her survival.
  Sitting it in the window seal, she stood back, waiting. The boy in the bed groaned, rolling over  onto the other side, his sights settled on the box. The melody to 'Ring around the rosy' played in succession. It was sinister sounding because it was serenading his final moments as it had for her. The boys soul would be consumed by it, keeping it from breaking. Which meant shed live on.
  Confusion flashed on the boys face. He would feel a funny tugging sensations from deep inside him.  All her victims had that same look. Mary slipped silently across the dark room. Standing on the opposite side of the bed. She gazed down on the boy, his parents could be abusive or they could love him dearly. It really didn't matter 'cause she didn't know, so it was best not to take the chance.
  She had heard a baby crying in the next room over. She'd visit that one after she was done here. She loved babies. Maybe she'd hold it , rock it back to sleep. She wouldn't kill it, though. Their souls don't fill us the her music box as well as older children's did.
  She slipped out a knife from sleeve, sensing danger somehow, the boy turned to face her. He would only see a shadow among shadows, slightly darker in tone. She raised her arm, taking precise aim. Whispering in her gentle voice, she prepared to bring her blade down.

"Just listen to the music"
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