Skye
The rest of the night was a complete blur. The lights, the noise, screaming, the music. It was all too much. Too much of a reminder why I loved being on stage. I felt like I was ready to break out of this hard shell of protection and give myself away, so I could be free again. But there was nothing I could do to help myself accomplish that. I'd have to stay in this state until I could break out.
Until that person takes me under the madness, and opens my eyes again, I have no idea how I'll cope with this searing pain that tears through my body every single day.
Once again, all I remember were the lights blacking out and I stirred to find myself in a different hotel, similar layout, but different all the same.
A day later, we were in a semi-permanent house in L.A. Apparently, or that's what I thought I heard.
The guest room was neutral coloured, with a shiny black piano in the corner next to the dressing table. That's the first thing I noticed as I walked in.
"Here you are." Denise Jonas smiled warmly at me as she stretched out her arm to the vacant room.
I mumbled a murmur of a nor disagreeing or agreeing sound and started to place my things in the room.
That night after sharing a quiet dinner with the Jonas family, I slipped into my grey sweatpants and white tee and laid on top of the bed sheets. Twisting and turning over, just thinking.
Thinking about how life had changed so drastically.
My mother and father had died when I was ten. In a house fire at my grandparents house. The only people who came out alive were myself and my brother, Casper. We vowed to take care of me. Never to let me get hurt.
But now, I felt some angst and rage towards my deceased brother.
Why would he kill himself? Leave me to fend life on my own? To teach me a lesson? To help me understand my way of living more?
I didn't know. And I guess I never will.
We were at the very peak of breaking into the entertainment industry. My demos were being heard and Casper was producing and helping me write my songs and everything was just perfect.
Until he decided to end his life.
I'll never know why.
I turned over to look at the clock. It was nearly 10PM.
The house was so huge that if you set off a bomb you would only hear a faint bang seconds later.
I shuffled myself to the edge of the bed. I glanced over at the sleek black shiny piano. The way the light hit it was beautiful, and the shimmering black and white keys glistened silently. Waiting for someone to start to play a melody.
I dared myself.
I slowly walked over to the stool. Sat down.
My fingers spread across the keys, carefully placing my fingers on the right notes.
The song I'd written by myself. Without Casper. I was going to play it to him the day he died.
I hit the first few chords, and my heart jolted. I had the feeling back again. My whole mind, body and soul were suddenly resurrected and I could feel the power I was about to behold.
Music.
I gently played the song, and the lyrics slipped out of my mouth so easily. Why did I think it was so hard, it felt incredible.
"I’m not used to these feelings,
I’m used to being alone,
But every time you smile,
I feel right at home..."
The words seeped through me, I wrote this about Casper, in a way to thank him for all he's done for me. Helping my light shine and my love for music to be put on show.
"Without even touching me,
You caught me in your hands,
You should have warned me,
About your flutterby plans..."
Suddenly, I realised. This song wasn't just about my brother anymore.
"You opened my eyes,
I looked to the skies,
I can feel my wings,
And out comes butterflies..."
I stopped and breathed. I suddenly pounded on the keys and my voice grew louder and more intense.
"y skin burnt in winter,
And froze in the sun,
It’s no use fighting,
You’ve already won,
Me over,
Why don’t you come over,
We could have such fun,
Burning in winter,
And freezing in the sun..."
I wasn't taking in anything but the song, everything ele meant nothing to me anymore.
"You opened my eyes,
I looked to the skies,
I can feel my wings,
And out comes butterflies,
It’s like I’ve already taken flight,
Into the night,
No one sees what you can see,
I never knew I could just be,
A butterfly,
Ooh, I can flutterby,
Ooh, I’m a butterfly,
Burning in winter,
And freezing in the sun,
You opened my eyes,
I looked to the skies,
I can feel my wings,
And out comes butterflies..."
I softly came to an end. My heart beating steadily as I brought my hands into my lap.
My mouth was dry, and my mind felt numb.
I knew why I wanted to be a performer, I'd always known why.
I just never wanted to admit it to anyone in public.
You know, I thought they'd laugh. Because if you never did make it, then people would always think you're a dreamer, and I'd be heartbroken and disappointed in myself. I'd be ashamed.
But now I knew what I could be. I'd always known.
I'm just not sure if the public were ready for me yet.
I don't think I'm ready.
_________________________________________________________________________
Nick
Frankie was the one to awake me and inform me there was something playing down the hall.
A CD was on or something he said.
He pulled my hand and led me to the noise.
It was coming from Skye's room.
Gently, I held the door as to not make any noise.
I peeked my head through the crack.
There she was. Sitting at the piano. Again.
Her hands dancing fluently across the keys, playing an enchanting melody and singing.
That voice, that beautiful voice.
I couldn't believe she was singing. Something must have struck a chord with her. It was her own song, I hadn't heard it before.
Then she finished, almost moulding back into her old self, curling back into her body. She shouldn't have to feel that way.
She was amazing.
Skye was amazing.
Skye Singer was amazing.
I stepped in the room.
I heard her body twitch.
She flinched upright, trying to disregard the fact I'd entered the room.
"Skye?" I whispered, almost like Skye herself, who was barely heard if and when she spoke.
"Mmm?" Her mumble was quiet, but sounded sad.
"You're... amazing. Do you seriously know how incredible and talented you are?" I walked over to the piano and bent beside her.
Frankie wondered in behind me, placing himself on the bed, watching us both.
I saw a tear well in her eyes.
"Please don't cry." I begged her, my voice softly breathing into her ear.
She shot her head round. Her brown eyes sparkling with a mixture of confusion and worry.
I don't why, but I felt like I could easily become friends with her if she started to speak again, and become engaged in life once more.
"I'm sorry." She said. Her voice abnormally loud, and it was barely a hush either.
"What are you sorry for?" I asked hesitantly, half-knowing the answer already.
"I. I...I'm sorry I'm not talking. I'm sorry that I'm ignoring most of my life, and I'm sorry for not being able to see how much you've done for me. And be grateful for it." Her voice was pure and honest. And there's no way I couldn't forgive her.
A tear fell from her eyes and it painted her rosy cheeks a slightly darker shade of pink as she bent her head.
I put my hand underneath her chin, and lifted her weary head upwards so that she was looking straight at me.
Her eyes glittering at mine.
She was so beautiful.
"Skye. You needn't be sorry for anything. We're going to take care of you now, ok?"
She blubbered a sniff, "You should hate me. I've been such a nasty bitch to you, all of you." She cringed at her sentence as an after thought, glancing at Frankie but he seemed to be un-alarmed and hadn't taken notice of her curse word, not that it mattered.
"I don't hate you. I could never hate you. I'm going to take you under my wing."
She blinked.
"I don't think you ever had a choice whether you were going to be a superstar or not. The world had too much noise for you to handle, but we'll get by that. I promise, everything is going to be fine."
She coiled away slightly, her eyes searching my own.
I reached to her head, putting my fingers through her hair, stroking her face.
She brought her frail hand up and wrapped it around my wrist. A few of her tears dripping into my palm.
All at once, we both leant forward, wanting to be in each other's company.
She fell into my arms, she slipped carefully off the stool and we sat there in silence, holding each other.
She smelt delicate and pretty, her skin soft and her body thin.
I rubbed small circles on her back, comforting her. She needed someone right now, and I was going to help her get through it.
As we pulled away from each other, and I got the feeling that neither of us really wanted to. Our hands intertwined.
"Thank you." She said, louder than a whisper.
"My pleasure." I whispered in reply.
"But thank you." I said, almsot as an after-thought.
She gazed up at me.
"What for?"
"For being you. And showing me something I'd never thought I'd see. Now can we stop this mute business and can you please start to talk young lady?" I said, trying to get her playful and see if she had any humour.
She giggled quietly, and the sound was gorgeous.
She nodded, her hair swaying with her movement.
"Good." I nodded at her, and rubbed her shoulders.
I got up and smiled at Frankie and tilted my head towards the door.
"Goodnight Skye." Frankie said softly and walked out the door.
"Goodnight Frankie." She spoke back, in the same tone as my younger brother.
I pulled her up and smiled.
She smiled back.
"Wow." I said, in awe of her sparkling white teeth spreading across her face.
"What?" She craned neck to the side.
"You." I said quietly. Oh god did I really just say that? Cheesy or what?
But she grinned back at me.
"Goodnight Skye Singer." I smiled down at her. I kissed her gently on the forehead.
I felt like I should protect her, and care for her and be all big-brotherly like.
She didn't mind, and she tip-toed up and pecked me on the cheek with her soft round pink lips.
"Goodnight Nick Jonas." She gave me a weak smile and she slipped into her bed as I walked proudly out of the room.
I was going to make her a star.
End of.
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