Author's Note: If this is too realistic, let me know. It was from a realistic situation. Even the title is a little changed. But it was me trying to get down the emotions to a piece of music I received. It is known to me as "Tormented Soul". What I call it anyway.

Some of it is fictious. Some of it is real. But I did this to get out what I kept thinking in my head.

Is there an inspirational source? Yes. EPR, which is one of the most heart wrenching things I ever head. It's very good and reflects the soul.

He slaved away at the keyboard, trying to think of something to do other then feel the horrible guilt that was making him want to yank the keyboard off his lap. Ian had just about done everything possible to make Anna want to not talk to him. Even now, she hardly said three words without getting angry. And that made him feel like he should have just grabbed something and bashed himself in the head with it.

Not that he had not done that.

In fact, he locked himself in his room all day as he received the nasty instant message she had sent to him. The last line made him cry. The whole thing made him cry, in all actuality. But the way she put it . . . it just made him cry.

"You have one day to change my mind, or else it's over. And I'm not going out of my way to see you. If you care, you'll find a way. If not . . . we know how that goes."

Ian had stopped working on the newest music piece he had tried so hard to make. None of it seemed right to him, the chords all flat and down, like someone drowning in water. Or someone who was dying. Moving his hair from his face, he found another fresh set of tears were starting from his eyes. How can there be tears left? Ian thought as he slammed his fingers down on the keys. Haven't I cried enough for one weekend? And how can she just say that and go to work, feeling perfectly fine? I bet she doesn't. How can she?

A sigh escaped from him as he heard someone calling for him. Wiping the tears away from his face he heard the door slam open, and someone stepped in. "You've been in here all day, you know. Mum's been calling you. Didn't you hear her?"

One more time I have to hear that and I'll scream. "No, I didn't. I've been working." At that, Ian did not lie. He was thinking on how to end the problem he started. "Why, what does she want this time that we haven't done already?"

"She wants you to run out to the store. Apparently she ran out of sugar again."

What? She just bought some three days ago. I know she's like . . . just doing it to get me out of the house. Watch them like, cut off my internet connection. As if I need that right now. "Alright." Ian sighed as he swung his legs off the bed and stood, putting the keyboard down. "I'll be out in a minute. Let me get dressed." At this Ian went to a dresser and pulled out some clothes. They were just random things. Not really caring what it was he was putting on, the other looked at him.

"You sure everything's all right, Ian?" There was concern in his dark eyes as he watched Ian.

"No. I'm not sure it will be again. But don't tell them that, okay? I'll be fine soon enough." If only I could tell someone, I would surely get advice on what to do. But isn't that what got me in this mess in the first place? Asking for advice because I was afraid?

"Well, okay. I won't." Then he turned and walked out of the room, only to have a small lady come into the doorway, frowning at him. Ian sighed softly. He did not need to be interrupted when he had only half a day left to finish what he was doing.

"Ian, whatever are you thinking, dear? You look horrid in that."

The outfit in question was a bright red shirt with blue jeans, with the red shirt being an old homemade sweater. It was full of holes and Ian looked down and laughed. "Sorry, Mum. Just grabbed a shirt cause I heard footsteps." Some excuse.

"Well, get out of it." Her voice was dark as she overlooked him. "And change. I feel like I'm looking at a reject out of a horror movie. Or a bum on the street." She started walking away and then stopped, turning her head around. "I need some sugar from the store. I'll give you the money. Go get some for me."

Ian could not help but keep the irritation in his voice as he asked, "Didn't you just get some?" His chameleon eyes glared at her. "You do this to me all the time. To be your little errand boy. Make Justin do it."

"Don't talk to me like that, Ian. And I need brown sugar." She turned back and slapped some money in his hand. "Get dressed and do it. I don't need you to be flippant with me." Then she walked off again, screaming for his brother.

Feeling lost, Ian shoved the money into his pants and threw off the shirt, trying to remember which shirt it was he wanted to wear. Finally grabbing a short black t-shirt, Ian threw it on, trying to compose himself the best he could as he walked out into the hallway and look at his family. No one seemed to care about his looks now as he walked to the door and slammed it shut, trying to vent his frustration.

He came back a while later, walking around and lost in his thoughts. Ian did not remember the brown sugar and ended up going back to the store to exchange the powdered sugar for that one. He received a weird look from his mother when he came in but he handed it to her, along with the change, and hid back in his room.

The keyboard was back on his lap as he tried to figure out the rest of the piece that he would write. And at that, he got called again. Growling, he threw the keyboard on his bed and screamed. "What the hell do you want?!" The door was closed, but he yelled quite loudly.

"Ian! Don't you do that! Some girl's on the phone for you!" A pissy scream. He knew he would hear it when he got off the phone.

Only one guess as to who that is . . . but why? He grabbed the bed and pushed himself up. I lost. It's over . . . isn't it? Slowly he trudged to the door, throwing it back and nearly breaking it. "I'm coming." Subdued as he saw his mother glare at him. "Where?"

"Where it always is, Ian."

A nod from him, followed by the start of a few tears. "Alright." Still walking slowly he trudged to the phone, and took it in his hand. "H--hello?"

"Hi." The voice sounded angry as she said it. "I--I just thought I'd see how you're doing."

"It's a little late for you to ring, isn't it?"

"I want to finish this." Her voice was hard. "I think we should finish this now instead of making it wait, don't you?" A sigh escaped her as she then said, "Honestly, I wasn't going to call. But I made myself sick at work just thinking about it. I nearly passed out at the register and I got sick again. And really, I was worried. I was so angry when I talked to you that I think I was a bit harsh."

A bit? No, you damn well nearly broke me, Anna, but yeah . . . "Well, maybe you were. Just a little." He looked at someone who passed by him and glared at them. "I mean, you damn well killed me here."

"Why?"

Ian was confused as he furrowed his eyebrows, holding the phone closer, as if it was his only salvation. "Well, why what?"

"Why did you do it?"

Oh that. I was just too much of a fucking coward . . . I never wanted both, you see . . . what am I supposed to tell her? The truth. Just the truth, even if she doesn't like it. You have to tell it. That'll start to fix it, you know. "Well, I was afraid. You know, of rejection and all that. I mean, really."

"You still had no right." The sound of carts on the other line. "Hold on."

"Where are you at?" he asked her. "It sounds like you're outside."

"I'm on break. I didn't go home."

Well, damn, she must really care to call me . . . "Oh. So, what did you want?"

"Wanted to know what you wanted."

Leaving it up to me, Anna? Well, that's how I got in this mess in the first place. Why do it again?

"What I want?" Ian was just ecstatic. "I want you. Why would you think I wanted another girl in the first place? I mean, I can't think of not being with you. It's killing me. It's making me die. Slowly, but surely. And if I died, knowing you were still here and I wasn't with you . . . well, I don't know what the hell I would do when I saw you online. Or how to talk to you without going in my head and hitting myself because I was a damn fool for not wanting to make things right again."

"So you won't do this to me again?" Her voice lost some of the harshness it had when she had first called. "Because I don't want to do this again, Ian. I won't do it again."

He shook his head, glad that Anna was not going to be lost to him. Hope suddenly flooded his being as he said, "Trust me, I won't. I know that's hard to do, but you have to. For your sake as well as mine."

"I know." A pause as her voice changed. "I was miserable, you know."

"So was I."

"You have to straighten your shit out, though."

Ian nodded. "I'm well aware of that, Anna." His grip on the phone loosened, now that it was not his last remaining lifeline. "But you know that that is going to take time to do."

"Well, at least don't lie to me anymore. Please."

A smile came to his face. "I won't.”

"Good. Now I have to go, I'm late."

"Alright. Remember, I love you. I love you so much."

He knew she smiled as her voice was soft. Open. Like it was normally when they talked. "I know. I love you too." And the phone clicked off and Ian stood there with the phone in his hand, just staring at it. How fast it was all solved . . . somewhat. I have a lot I need to do yet.

And then a shriek from the kitchen for him to come in.

Ian sighed. Another day of this . . . it's a wonder I haven't lost my mind. But they know about her now. Might as well face the music. And slowly, he walked into the kitchen to face his parents, with a look of apathy on his face.