The Music of Guilt by Zlata Pelykh

The girl was his salvation,

which he would not want to lose even on pain of death. His death. A beautiful girl who, despite her shyness, always danced next to him to the sound of the piano when he practiced. He loved her tenderly and tremulously. 

He was a pianist, who studied at the conservatory, composing at the same time, never really thinking about the fact that he was moved by genius.

“Philippe.”

She looked so attractive that no word could describe her charms, no paint could convey the colours of her silky hair. Except the music.

“Aria, this dress...”, the guy picked up his beloved in his arms, spinning her around the huge hall, “You will be the most beautiful girl of all at the party!”

“Stop it, stop it, you'll ruin your hair!” the laughter echoed through the space as they danced to the melody of their love.

“You are my muse, Aria. My magical muse, thanks to you, I can create, do you understand? I will write an opera in your honour! Only music can convey your beauty...”

That fateful party was organized every year to celebrate the beginning of the semester. The first part was a ball, where everyone had to come in evening suits or dresses, and where solemn speeches were made by teachers and students.

While Philip was masterfully performing, Aria was getting to know the other students of the conservatory. Whether they were boys or girls, Philip watched with jealousy as his girlfriend's attention was taken by others. After his performance, he overheard one of the boys telling another about his interest in Aria. What struck Philip the most was that the violinist from the parallel class was ready to play for her and only for her. The musician could not have imagined that this seed of resentment would eventually take root and lead him down a path of incredible tragedy. A toxic mixture of love, jealousy, and a distorted sense of ownership would push him to the edge, blurring the lines between good and evil, and eventually destroy their world forever.

At night, when the girl was sleeping peacefully next to him, Philip quietly went to the hall. The piano melody, which at first was gentle and tender, rapidly grew into a terrible indignation, waking the girl. Getting up, the sleepy Aria could not understand what was happening, but anxiety warned her, preventing her against what was about to happen. Suddenly, everything became quiet. The girl went to the hall with fear.

“Aria...”

“Philip, are you okay? Why are you playing in the middle of the night? This piece... the melody scares me. Why did you wake me up?” the girl's voice was filled with confusion and resentment.

“Aria, come here. You are my fairy tale muse. Mine. I create only because you're around. You will always be there for me, won't you?”

 They stood in each other's arms, in complete darkness. The curtains in the room did not let in a light, so even the moon did not witness the terrible murder.

Philip's hands were shaking, and his heart was pounding, a mixture of fear, adrenaline, and anxious numbness consuming him in the moments leading up to the murder. His mind balanced on the edge of madness as he tried to cope with the immensity of his actions. Deep inside, the voice of reason whispered, begging him to change his mind, to find another way, but it was drowned out by a surge of anger and despair. A feeling of emptiness swallowed him up as he realized the extent of what he had done. The world around him seemed surreal, detached from the reality he had once known.

The wealthy family was able to rectify the situation by leaving the killer at large, while Aria had no relatives, no one who could care about her death. But it would have been better for Philip to be forever imprisoned in the reality, rather than the ghostly prison of his own actions, and perhaps he would have lived longer.

That night, like many previous nights, he heard a melody. The haunting music he had dedicated to his beloved seemed to linger in the air. The further Philip sank into the abyss of his guilt and hopelessness, the more his shattered reality was permeated by an obsessive presence. The disembodied figure of Aria materialized before him in fleeting glimpses. She appeared with eyes full of sorrow and accusation, as if silently reproaching him for his heinous act. The music seemed to resonate with the depths of his guilt, its gloomy notes echoing in his very soul. But was it the melody of a revengeful spirit, or the creation of a mind balancing on the edge of sanity?

In the middle of the night, he would wake up to the sound of this melody, his heart pounding in his chest, and he would find himself alone in the silence of the world around him. Shadows danced on the periphery of his vision, playing with his vulnerable mind, leaving him unsure of what was real and what was just a figment of his sick imagination.

Two years later, he was found on the floor next to his own piano, the keys of which were covered in blood. The whole house was covered with musical notes. Words of forgiveness and a request to leave him in peace were written on them.