The day… It still haunts me to this day. It still gives me nightmare. It still leaves me with earth shattering tears, images, and thoughts of suicide.
The day… The day everything happened. It was the day that I stopped speaking, the day I shut myself to the world, the day when myself outside died. It was also the day I started living with the one person I trusted with my life; James Owen Sullivan. Or Jimmy.
He was there the day everything happened; he was the only one that knew that I was in bad condition. He could see it in me. So, he took it in me to help me and never to leave my side. He also vowed to never tell anyone I lived with him.
Jimmy is a year older than me, he’s still that goofy kid he was when he was younger, but he knows how to be serious in the right times. I have to admit, I’d rather him know every single bit of information on me than anyone else, especially his band mates. I knew most of them, except the singer, he was told to never come anymore. I had seen him a few times, and he was always in my nightmare, but I don’t remember my past. I remember what happened that day, I know the people who were there, and I know some of their names, but the man that did everything, was still hidden behind my blockage of memories and fear.
Jimmy has always told me that I should just block everything out and move on, try speaking again. The sad part is I want to speak, I want to hear my voice again, but I lost it along with my memories. Jimmy understood this thankfully, and didn’t rush me into speaking, he just kept telling me to keep writing, playing that guitar and piano, and draw out what was on my mind. He knew me well, and I wish I could thank him for being so damn patient with me. I know I can be troublesome, and even terrible company at times because I can’t speak, and I don’t show my emotions very well, and I know I can be annoying, but he’s put up with me the entire time and was always cheerful towards me. I know he knows more about that day than I do, and he doesn’t remind me of what I know that happened that day. He stays quiet, sometimes in deep thought, and when he’s in that deep thought, I hear him mumble out sentences and his eyes prick with tears. I’ve never seen Jimmy full outcry before, or at least I don’t remember it, but I know whatever he’s in deep thought about it’s something that causes him great discomfort and pain, not physically, but in his heart. It brings him to tears because he’s hurting in his heart, and not physically.
I always wonder; is it because of me? Have I caused him this? Have I caused this wonderful person, to be in discomfort in his heart because of something I did? Then I realize it probably is because of me. No, it’s not probably, it IS because of me. To hold this burden on my chest, heaves it down, and puts a great sadness in my chest. What would it be like if I did just jump off that bride, or take that knife and stab it deep into my neck, where my screams would never be heard, because they would be muffled by blood?
Jimmy never mentions the disturbance I know I bring him. He knows I have tried suicide, he knows the depression I have, and he knows me. Sometimes I wish he didn’t, sometimes I wish the whole world didn’t know of my existence. It seemed to me my parents didn’t care, nor did my whole family, but yet they still took the time to give me food, but not much, and not healthy food. No, nothing in my childhood could even be close to the day.
“Cisi, will you come down here?” I heard Jimmy call from the stairs, I bounded down them, in sweats and a baggy shirt, my hair was a mess, and paint was also smeared on my cheek. He automatically knew I had been painting. Jimmy chuckled at my attire.
“It’d be my honor to introduce you to someone from the band. I couldn’t lie to him any longer, and he promised to keep your secret, and he promised me something else. Please don’t be mad at me.” He quickly added at the end. I was a little ticked that he would tell my secret, but I trusted Jimmy with my life, so I trusted his judgment. I nodded slightly in slight approval. He smiled then squealed and pulled me along to the living where I saw Johnny standing there. My eyes widened as he turned around. He smiled widely.
“Elise!” He ran over and hugged me. He was still short, but I was still shorter. I gently wrapped my arms around his torso. It had been so long…
“I promise I won’t tell anyone Elise! I won’t bring it up or anything…” He said, and he hugged me tighter. “I’ve missed you, Elise. I’ve missed you a lot.” He mumbled. I just stared wide eyed at the floor. This man… He… He wasn’t the man I remembered from the day. This man wasn’t there that day, so does that mean he doesn’t know what happened? I looked back at Jimmy; he knew my look and shook his head. I sighed in relief and smiled up at Johnny. He stared at me for a moment, before smiling back. He knew. He knew that these smiles were fake, they didn’t show an emotion in my eyes, and it just showed teeth. Nothing else. Whereas his smile, it showed his eyes, but in his eyes, it showed pain, sadness, fear. He didn’t know me though, he didn’t realize I wasn’t the same Elise I was years ago, and if he thought I was, he needed to learn quickly that I wasn’t.
I quickly backed away from Johnny realizing I was still hugging him. He seemed reluctant to let go of me though. I looked between the two, they were having a silent conversation between them, something I’ve seen between people before, but this silent conversation seemed deep, powerful, and had a strange edge to it. I slowly snuck out of the room and back to mine. I stared at the picture I had started painting. It was a figure from that day. I touched the edges where there was no paint, and I desperately wanted to know who this person was. I wanted to remember, but trauma will make you forget, it blocks the bad out, and for some reason this man, this man, this figure, was dangerously bad.
My eyes narrowed in on the man’s eyes, they were focused on something that wasn’t straight ahead, something off to the side, something off in the distance, and in those eyes, just like my dreams figures eyes, they held rage. Furious, indecisive fury. I opened my mouth to scream, but nothing came out, but I grabbed the painting and tore it to shreds. I hated this! I hated myself! I hated myself, why?
I hated myself because I couldn’t figure out my life anymore, because I didn’t know where this road would take me. I thought life would just take me easy, but that turned me down quickly when I stopped talking, when everything stopped in its place. I stared at the dark room, the torn up fragments of what was left of that picture. My eyes watered and for the first time in a long time, I felt weak, fragile, lost. I walked numbly to the bed, stretched out on it, and fell asleep.

Jimmy’s PoV-

“How often down she do this?” Johnny asked.
“Not often.” I spoke softly, picking up the pieces of a broken painting. I didn’t want to even try to put them back together.
“How bad is she messed up?” He inquired. I looked back at him.
“She’s not messed up. She’s… She’s not here anymore. A different life form has taken her body and sent the real Elise away… Away into a world that we wish to follow her, but we can’t, because she has blocked us out and now her words are invisible to us. She tries to tell us,” I motioned to all the art and writings. “The only thing is that we can’t understand her, for the life of us, we can’t understand her.” I felt the tears come again; Johnny came towards me and gently placed a hand on my back.
“Hey, man, I understand. She’s emotionless, she really is gone, and when we can finally bring her back, we’ll figure it out. Okay?” I heard him whisper to me. He knew how hard this was on me, he knew since the day it happened, what everything was to her now.
Elise didn’t see in color, she saw in black and white. Not the greys, blacks, and whites, but the solid; black and white. As much as we wished to see what she saw, we couldn’t because the black and white she saw was her only two colors. They were her true colors. I stared at Elise for awhile, she looked peaceful in her sleep, and I only wished to know what she was feeling when she tore her painting to shreds.
“Jimmy?” Johnny nudged me. I looked down at him.
“Hmm?”
“Do you think she will ever come back to us? Elise, I mean.” He asked. I looked over at the girl, which brought seriousness into me.
“Yea, I do.” I answered. “There’s only one way though. We need to get the rest of the guys involved, excluding Matt.” Johnny nodded, and I quickly snapped out my phone, shooting a quick text to Zacky and Brian, telling them there was major news including a girl, and to NEVER tell Matt.