Heartbeat in the Dark

    Thump, thump thump. Willow stared at the guitar in the corner of the room. It was a dark, blurry shape against the light seeping through the windows. She wished she could hear the sound of her guitar. She wished she could hear the crickets chirping out the window. She wished she could hear the sounds of her mother cooking in the kitchen every night. The incident happened months ago, but she still could hear the sound of her heart.

    Willow loved the rain. It was raining that night, driving back from one of the best performances she’s had with one of the biggest audiences she’s performed for and famous sponsors from all around the world. The rain was a calming noise that brought her mind into sharp focus. The rain was an unyielding sound that drowned out all thoughts. The rain was what grounded her; it was what inspired her music. The song performed that night was based on the calming background noise created by the rain. 

    Willow stared out the window, the raindrops falling on the window like the strumming of her guitar strings vibrating against the air. Her breathing was even as she replayed her performance again and again. It was a beautiful piece — calm, reassuring, grounding her audience to the present. A soft smile painted Willow’s lips. Her eyes focused on the reflection in the glass, smiling back at her.

    That was the last thing Willow remembered before the car hit.

    Later, the police explained to her that the road was slippery, it was night, and the driver was drunk. The other side would pay the full amount of their medical bills in addition to the damaged property as an apology. But the damage was irreversible.

    The first thing Willow heard when she woke up was a thump, thump, thump. It was intrusive, taking up all the space in her head, overpowering all her thoughts, numbing her entire body, and demanding her mind to focus on the dull thump, thump, thump of her heart. Before she even gained consciousness, the sound was there. When she groggily opened her heavy eyes, the sound was there. During her surgery, the sound was there. During her physical therapy, the sound was there. The sound never left. No matter what she did, the sound remained like an itch that you can’t reach. Willow imagined carving out her heart just to make the sound stop. Anything to make it stop. The doctors didn’t understand. 

    “It’s the shock,” they said.

    It was always there, different from the soothing sound of the soft rain at night. It was always the same sound, the same note, echoing in her mind.

    Willow sat up on her bed, eyes on the same guitar at the corner of the room she was staring at moments before. The clock read 1:46 AM. She fumbled down the bed, nearly tripping over her strewn clothes as she walked toward the window and opened the curtains. Instantly, the summer moonlight filled the room, and the warm wind floated in, ruffling her hair. She walked over slowly to the guitar, picking it up from its stand. She sat down in the chair she’s sat at so many times before. Only this time, the seat was cold. Thump, thump, thump. Her heart was like a constant reminder of the upcoming deadline of her next big performance in Seattle. She needs practice. She propped up the guitar, running her sweaty hands across the smooth wood.

    Willow frowned. She didn’t remember the wood being so smooth to the touch. Was it always this smooth? The guitar felt strangely larger than she remembered. She shifted the guitar on her lap, strumming the strings once, twice. The familiar sounds snuffed out as soon as they reached the soundproof walls of her room. Thump, thump, thump went her heart. Willow’s head seemed to be pulsing with the beats of her heart. She once again placed her hands on the strings.

    The song started smoothly. She managed to ignore the sound of her heart thumping through her body. The music flowed from her hands, into the guitar, and back out into the world. Willow could’ve sworn her heart skipped a beat as she pushed the song into the climax.

    But then thump, thump, thump her heart beat, a pulse that resounded all the way to her fingertips. Her hand shook, sliding across the strings that made a jarring, screeching sound that made her break out in cold sweat. She snatched her hand away from the strings as if they burned her, breathing heavily. The music stopped. Willow couldn’t help but think it was all just a cruel joke god played on her — getting her hopes up slowly as the song progressed, like how a leaf gets blown off the ground on a light wind.

    Tears filled her eyes. She would not let her heartbeat control her life. She was the one who mastered her body. And her body would do as she willed it. She wiped the sweat from her brow, picked up the guitar, and tried again. Thump, thump, thump. She tried again. Thump, thump, thump. Her breathing grew heavier, her hearing decreased with each attempt, until only the sound of her heartbeat was left. Willow gasped, standing up abruptly, the guitar crashing onto the ground. The ringing in her ears made her clench her fists, nails digging deep enough that blood seeped through and dropped onto the carpet.

    Knock knock knock. “Willow? Are you okay?” 

    The sharp rapping of her mother’s fists on the door slowly pulled her out. 

    “Willow?” Her mom tried again. Willow took a deep breath, her eyes focusing on a little knot in the carpet in front of her.

    She wanted to tell her mom about the constant heartbeat. She wanted to run into her mother’s embrace like she was three, and cry all of her troubles out. But she remembered what her parents whispered when they thought she wasn’t listening.

    “Her heartbeat? I thought the doctors said she didn’t hit her head that hard.”

    “She’s probably faking it. Willow loves the attention.”

    So instead, Willow bit back all of the words she wanted to say, “I’m fine, Mom, I fell off the bed.”

    “Okay, honey, tell me if you need anything,” her mom replied.

    Willow waited until the soft steps of her mother’s feet on the ground faded down the hall. Then she pulled her bleeding hands from behind her. The physical pain brought her a sense of clarity she hadn’t experienced in a while. She bandaged her hands and climbed back in bed. The guitar would lie there on her floor until she could pick it up without her hands shaking again. Or until she was forced to.

    The first few days of school were the worst. Teachers and students asked how she’s been. With a huge amount of homework to make up, Willow was constantly working. Her guitar teacher noticed Willow’s change before anyone else did.

    “Willow, I know the car accident has been hard on you. Are you okay?”

    “I’m fine, Ms. Mason. But I want to take a break from guitar lessons.”

    Ms. Mason sighed, “I really don’t think you should. Music is the one thing that connects everything. I believe that if you continue, it might make you feel better.” Ms. Mason looked at Willow’s avoiding gaze. “Something is bothering you. What is it?”

    “Nothing, Ms. Mason. I just want to…”

    “Tell me.”

    Willow looked up at Ms. Mason’s face. A face she’s known since as long as she can remember. Thump, thump, thump went her heart. She took a breath. “I’ve been… hearing my heartbeat a lot recently.”

    “What do you mean by hearing your heartbeat? Is it bothering you a lot?”

    “Yes, ma’am. The doctors just tell me to rest. But this sound — it’s constant. It’s always there pulsing in my chest and in my head. I can’t focus on anything else but the thumping of my heart.”

    Ms. Mason was silent for so long that Willow looked up hesitantly to find her teacher looking at her thoughtfully. Willow stared at her shoes, noticing the little scuffs and dirt on them.

    “Come with me.” Ms. Mason turned and walked briskly out of the practice room, grabbing her own guitar on the way out. Out of curiosity, Willow kept up. They arrived at another studio, a drum studio. Ms. Mason walked in like she owned the place and directly pushed open the door to the first room.

    “Jack, play something for my student here.”

    Willow glanced around the room. It was bare except for the mirror on one wall and a set of large drums in the middle. A man about Ms. Mason’s age sat in front of it. He had blond hair and startling blue eyes that locked instantly onto Willow’s.

    “Sure. What do you want me to play?” Jack asked, putting away his phone. His voice was calming, like one of those podcast voices that Willow’s dad listens to every morning.

    “The one we practiced,” Ms. Mason replied, pulling up an extra chair next to Jack.

    The song started out slow, like the typical beating of drums. Willow leaned against the mirror, watching Jack’s drumsticks fly across the drums. When Ms. Mason’s guitar came in, Willow heard the tune of the song. It was a steady beating… like the beating of her heart. Thump, thump, thump. Jack’s drum was a steady beat throughout the song, adding its own flares here and there, while Ms. Mason’s guitar was like the dancer atop the stage. Willow felt when the music was slow, felt when the song was loud, and she couldn’t help but marvel at how amazing the song was.

    Dun, dun, dun went Jack’s drums. Thump, thump, thump went Willow’s heart. Willow suddenly jerked off the mirror, concentrating on her heartbeat. Her heartbeat had synced with Jack’s drums. Willow had become one with the song, her heartbeat becoming the rhythm that made the song alive.

    As the last notes of the song faded away, Willow was already moving. She rushed out of the room, her heart racing with each step as she sprinted down the lively street and burst through the door of Ms. Mason’s guitar studio. Eyes locked onto her guitar, she sank into her familiar chair, grabbed her guitar, and shut out the world by closing her eyes.

    Thump, thump, thump. The first pluck of a string echoed like a heartbeat in the silence of the room. Thump, thump, thump. She skillfully strummed the strings, each motion drawing her deeper into the music. Thump, thump, thump. With a flick of her fingers, she created a chord that seemed to come alive. Then she let go, letting the rhythm of her heartbeat fill every note with energy. A smile spread across her face as she reached the thrilling peak of the song, experiencing a moment of pure joy.

    Two months later, Willow found herself on the grand stage of Seattle, surrounded by bright lights and thousands of eager faces. Taking a deep breath, she let the music pour out of her like a flowing river. Thump, thump, thump. The familiar rhythm of her heartbeat resonated in the space, each beat reminding her of the energy that life brings. She closed her eyes, fully giving in to the feeling of her heartbeat syncing with the melody, each pulse adding depth to her music and making it feel more vibrant. The days of playing sad tunes that sounded like the sound of rain on the car windshield were behind her; she now channeled her emotions into songs that celebrated the joy of being alive, each note a reminder of the song of her heartbeat — a true testament to life.