The darkest heart.

But try as he might he couldn't find anyone to share it with, wherever he went he was met with resistance and tears. He soon discovered that this longing of his wasn't like everyone else's it was dark. It had something evil to it that kept his desires unattainable. They cried because they knew it was wrong, they left because they couldn't look him in the face any longer. His notes no longer danced as they left the keys, but slipped out, afraid of being discovered, as if the darkness they harboured could never be cleansed. He and the piano bench began to drift apart. The man began to spend less and less time playing his dancing tunes.

The Piano Bench.

The piano bench. It had been there for years. It was chipped and scuffed and the hinges creaked, there was even a place on the seat that had been worn down from years of being sat on. Nobody notices it anymore, they hardly ever did. It simply sits, sometimes in the sun, sometimes in shadow, year after year, until one day somebody picks it up and takes an axe to it and uses its shards as fire wood.
Nobody could ever imagine what it would say after so many years of silent observation. In the beginning when it was shinny and new with a bright young man who would sit upon it for hours playing the piano, making each note dance a spritly jig in the sunlight that poured through the window. Later the young man would sit with a choir, playing his dancing tunes, leading their voices as they rose and dipped in joyful harmony. These were happy times, times where bench and man were almost one, where the worn spot developing on both of their heads was a point of pride and maturity. This young musician who sat on the bench so regularly was getting older, his dancing tunes still filled the heart with joy, but what his heart really desired was another heart to share it with.

A fragile age.

"I'm so sorry." Officer Stephens said, he didn't know what to say, nothing seemed to even come close. He stood in the threshold holding his hat in his hands, wringing the the sides. How could a family suffer so much in one day? It was inconceivable, why was he even here? What help could he possibly be?
Mrs. Meyer and Flora stood their lifeless, staring at the helpless awkward man in front of them. What was he doing here? What help was he to anyone? Dennis, now Martin? Something had died along with them that day, and no amount of detective work would bring it back.
"This doesn't seem like the appropriate time, but when you are ready, could I perhaps ask you some questions?" Officer Stephen's said.
"I'm ready now." Said Flora she hand't said a word until now.
"Please, I-I understand that you'll need time, I-I shouldn't have come, I'll come back another time-"
"I killed him." Flora shouted, interrupting Officer Stephen's, she was completely calm, only shouting to be heard over his stuttering.
"Please dear, don't be guilty, you couldn't have done a thing, what your father did was completely his fault." Her mother said soothingly.
"Not him, Dennis." Flora said, "He thought he was special, he thought he could do things other people couldn't, so I dared him, be like Houdini, prove yourself, but I knew that he was a fake, I drove him to it anyway. I walked away and he struggled and flailed and gasped for breath, but it was done. I left the note and the dog found his body." Flora finished her tirade.
Silence. The all at once Mrs. Meyer screamed and slapped her, the sting was harsh and made her eyes water, Officer Stephens was on her at once and before she knew it, was in the back of a police cruiser.
Everything happened so fast. She had been under arrest for 1 hour when she heard, her mother had killed herself, fastened a hose from the exhaust pipe into the car, and let life drift away. She sat in silence when she heard the news, then the voice spoke, the one who had been with her for a year or so now, it said; "you're next".

The Pier

Schizophrenia according to Merriam-Webster;
: a psychotic disorder characterized by loss of contact with the environment, by noticeable deterioration in the level of functioning in everyday life, and by disintegration of personality expressed as disorder of feeling, thought (as delusions), perception (as hallucinations), and behavior —called also dementia praecox The disorder tends to affect young adult between the ages of 15 and 35.

Martin Meyer was sittin gon the edge of the pier. The empty bottle of Jack Daniels lay forgotten behind him. The wind was blowing and it was beginning to rain but it didn't seem to bother him, nothing could distract him anymore. His son was dead. Joining him was all he wanted. He thought of his wife, his beautiful wife. She would look after Flora, is wonderful daughter. All he needed was to join his son. He didn't want him to be alone, he was lost and it was his job as his father to find him. Tears ran down his face, he didn't even try to disguise them. Then he was falling, nothing was holding him, he was free, when hit the water he opened his mouth and sucked in the piercing cold water. Then he was dead, all the life in him was gone and his body began to return to the surface where it would be unceremoniously washed to the shore for a jogger to find in a few hours.

The phone woke Deborah up with a start, she had been lying on the couch trying to get some sleep after hours of living in the waking coma of grief. "Hello?" She said groggily.
"Mrs. Meyer?"
"Yes, who is this?'
"Officer Stephens-" He was cut off by a scream and the phone going dead.
Deborah had known the moment she had picked up the phone, the same serious tone addressing her with the name only her students used. She had been trying to call him for hours but she'd had no luck, but twice in one day? She thought she was going to be ripped apart, she had tried to remain whole for her family, but now what? She was on the floor weeping when Flora found her. She knew right away. They lay there crying and holding onto each other crying for hours.
The knock on the door was the thing that finally broke them apart. It was Officer Stephens he came to wish them his condolences and ask follow up questions. It had been one hour since the jogger had found Martin Meyer's body washed up on the shoreline bloated and lifeless.

Heat and Liquor

It had now been 12 hours since the body of Dennis Meyer had been discovered. Flora was lying on her back in her room listening to the whir and clink the furnace made while it pumped out heat. Everything was quiet. She heard the phone ring downstairs and her mother go and pick it up. Then muffled voices, her mother was probably talking to another sympathetic neighbour. Then her thoughts were interrupted; "Flora, phone for you." Her mother called. She rose from her bed puzzled and went to the phone.
"Hello?"
"Flora?"
"Yes, who's this?"
"It's Officer Stephens, I was wondering if I could get you to come in to answer some more questions", the tone was cordial.
"Why?"
"Just procedure, follow up, you understand."
"Ok." she said, and hung up.
20 minutes later after having convinced her mother that she was fine and would be back soon, she was waiting in a chair outside Officer Stephens' office. "Why hello sweet heart, thank you for stoping by again today" said Officer Stephens as he opened the door and found her slouched in the chair outside. She shrugged and said nothing, walking past him into his office.

She sat down in the chair facing his desk and he sat down behind his desk. The room was hot and stuffy, Flora didn't like it. They looked at each other for a good while before Officer Stephens said; "Now just to follow up what we spoke about earlier, I'm curious about why you assumed murder when I was asking you about your brother." Flora said nothing, Officer Stephens continued, "Is there something you're not telling us? Because we must do everything we can to make sure your brother is laid to rest in piece if there is." He said fixing her with a serious stare. Flora snivelled in anger and indignation, standing up abruptly and fighting back tears she screamed; "My brother was a fantastic boy and nothing anybody thinks will change that, I did what I could to protect him and nobody can blame me for that, NOBODY!"
Officer Stephens was silenced with his shock and Flora ran out.

Martin Meyer had stopped at the liquor store. He had bought a 40 of Jack Daniels. He had it in a paper bag and was about one third of his was through it. It was beginning to dull the pain, he was still walking but he couldn't feel the blisters anymore and the wind barely bothered him, in fact he couldn't really feel anything at all. He liked this feeling, the feeling of nothing.

The clock ticking.

"Come here" Deborah Meyer said to her daughter, holding her arms open. The two women embraced Flora could feel her mother shaking with sobs while they embraced.
"I'm so sorry" Flora said.
"It wasn't your fault my love" Her mother replied.
"Where is Dad?" Flora asked that she hadn't seen him since she left for her interview.
"He's been out walking since we got the news" Her mother said.

Officer Stevens shook his head, it had now been 5 hours since Dennis Meyer's body had been found. He had just concluded the first interview with Flora and was reviewing the notes. As it was a suicide he wasn't concerned with looking for any suspects but something about the case just didn't sit right. Why would such a good kid end it all? From what he had gleaned from his interview with the next of kin and some of his friends, he didn't seem to have any problems. He just couldn't figure it out. He yawned and stretched his arms above him and leaned back in his chair. The something that was bothering him the most was centred around Flora his sister. Why had she immediately assumed he was hinting at murder? She was definitely hiding something.

The crisp fall wind was cutting and blustery, Martin pulled his jacket collar up tightly up around his neck and ducked his head down. Ever since they had gotten the call from the police, he had been walking. Through the park, down the street, up the street, out of the park. Just thinking. He hated himself. He hated the police who had made the call. he hated the dog that found him. he hated the rope that had taken his son's life. Most of all he was furious at his some for being so fucking selfish. Why did he do that? Didn't he know how much they loved him? Didn't he know how much funeral's cost? His heart was broken he didn't know how he could go on. The clock was still ticking but there was no time passing, he was no longer going towards anything. He stifled the scream he had felt rising inside him for the past 5 hours and walked on.

Questions.

"Alright, now I need to know everything." "Are you ready to continue?"
"Yes."
"Now please state your name." Said Officer Stevens a kindly middle aged police officer who had worked for the force for nearly 20 years. It had now been three hours since Dennis Meyer had committed suicide, and police were trying to piece together the details. This was the first of three interviews that Flora Meyer would have with Officer Stevens.
"Flora M-Marie M-Meyer" She said beween sniffles.
"Thank you Flora, now please can you tell me wether you remember your brother acting strange or out of sorts the last few days, maybe weeks leading up to this morning's events?"
Officer Stevens however kind and caring he chose to act, considered suicide an act of cowardice and a thing of shame and saw very little point in interviewing the bereaved sister just hours after the event.
"N-no I d-didn't." Said Flora mopping her bloodshot eyes.
"There, there" Said Officer Stevens patting her shoulder awkwardly.
"Only a few more questions and you can be on your way." "Now." he said in what he assumed to be a commanding but paternal voice; "Did your brother have any enemies? Anybody he owed money to? Did he do drugs or drink?" Officer Stevens asked, his bright blue eyes boring into her for answers.
Flora stopped sniffling and looked into the officers eyes with her own defiant brown eyes and said with more conviction than she had had all morning; "My b-brother was the kindest and most loving boy I knew and he just this morning threw himself off a balcony with a noose around his neck, and your asking me if anyone murdered him?!" Flora cried out, looking rather wild Officer Stevens thought to himself.