The noise in our kitchen is all-encompassing. Upon hearing it, my mind is once again in freeze mode. The kitchen knife in my hand; potato unfinished. It’s like I have paused our little discussion and I see the frequency of your vocal cords reflected in the kitchen wall, which has started to colour deeply yellow from the evening sunshine rays. I can hear myself trying to talk over you from afar, but my voice sounds like it is coming through a pool of water – bubbly and barely noticeable. I look at your mouth; it’s wide open and I can see your front teeth. The noise coming out is so incredibly loud. I try to freeze the sounds, imagine the sound waves on the wall. “It is only some noise, nothing more”, I repeatedly tell myself. Soothe myself. Convince myself. Mindfulness myself. You’re looming over me in the corner of the room – I can’t leave. My feet are suddenly so aware of the cold kitchen tiles. Like a small child I am ducking, with my shoulders up. Your screams are like a broken violin – not out of tune but sneering with intensity. I look at your face while trying to shut out the music. Your mouth is open, your eyes wide, your arms around my bubble of air. Your gaze so full of hatred I avoid looking into it too long. Once again you play me like a violin and I… I am powerless; I have to wait it out. While you continue, I stare at the sunshine wall, imagine the frequency of your vocal cords on it, moving up and down rapidly with high peaks and low lows, telling myself: “It is just noise, girl, nothing more.”

This flash fiction story was written after being inspired by the sound of the violin in the song “Play Me Like A Violin” by Stephen.