She shut her eyes and seated herself on the cherry wood bench, resting her slender fingers on the keys.  Drawing a deep breath, she placed those fingers on the appropriate keys and pressed down.  A beautiful G chord resonated through the room.  The woman looked in the direction of the door, verifying it was closed and locked.  Not that she was worried that someone was going to come in, seeing that it was past lights out in Balamb Garden.  But one could never be too careful.  Especially with anal Garden Faculty patrolling the facility.  Luckily, the music room was well enough away from the main building that any occupation should go unnoticed.  Stretching her arm up, she flipped the record button on and began to play.  Then Quistis Trepe sang.

 

Look what you’ve done, you gigolo

You know that I

Loved ya, hon

And I didn’t want to know

That your cool, seductive serenade

Was a tool of your trade

You gigolo.

 

     He left me.

     The words “I don’t want to you see anymore.  I found someone else” reverberated in Quistis’ head and her shut eyes tightened even more, attempting to block it out.  She couldn’t believe it.  They were so happy.  Or so she thought.  Hyne was she wrong.  And I gave everything to him, she thought.  EVERYTHING.  He threw it all back at me once he got what he wanted.

 

Of all the riches

You’ve surveyed

And all that you can lift

I’m just another dollar

That you’ve made in your long, long grift.

 

     Quistis gritted her teeth and continued singing, willing the tears to leave.  She wasn’t going to waste tears on that two-timing bastard.  Well, she didn’t want to.  Her pride didn’t want to.  What she wanted to do was curl up in a corner and die.  Not that anyone would notice.  I hope this adds something to your resume, Eric, she thought bitterly.

 

Look what you’ve done you've gigolo

Another hustle has been run

But now you oughta know

That this fool can no longer be swayed

By the tools of your trade

You gigolo

 

     It wasn’t going to happen to her again.  Not ever.  Eric’s type of smooth talking and lies were never going to work on her again.  No man’s would.  She was sick of being used and abused, just so some moron could claim that he’d laid Quistis Trepe.  I’m going to be celibate for the rest of my life, she decided, pressing harder on the ivory beneath her hands.  Besides, at least, I wasn’t in love with him.

 

I’m just another Joan you gypped

Another sucker stiffed

I'm not in the script

To your long, long grift

 

     Who am I fooling?  Of course I loved him.  He was the only man who paid attention to me, but didn’t worship me like the Trepies, Quistis told herself.  He treated me like a woman, listened to what I had to say, and offered me the one thing I wanted most.  Or I guess the one thing he wanted most, because he certainly didn’t offer love.  But I was so desperate for it, I found it anywhere I could, even in his barely disguised insults and eagerness for sex.  Vaguely, she wondered what other women Eric treated like…objects.  Not that it mattered.  He was no longer a part of her life.

 

The love had me in your grip

Was just a long, long grift

 

     She couldn’t take it anymore.  Her hands fell to her lap and her head dropped to the top of the piano, as she let out a sob of despair.  First he plays with my heart, and now I found no solace in music, which soothed me even during our relationship.  Another sob came out and she pushed up from the bench, the movement creating a loud scraping noise.  She ran, albeit quietly, to the door and let herself out to return to her dorm.

     Sometime later, the recorder clicked off.

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A/N:  I’m not sure I’ll continue this, it all depends on the response I get, so PLEASE

REVIEW! ^_^   By the way, this song is called “The Long Grift” by Stephen Trask.  

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