The colour of my room is black, “noir” as the French would say. To me, it represents a sense of style that is characterised by gloom and the supernatural. It’s beautiful. The walls used to be colourful and bright with rays of light dashing in through the window but that was before I covered the windows with black, opaque card and stripped the room of colour. I hate colour. The room’s dark and bewildered now with the four walls painted finely in black except the centre wall which I pin my memories upon. There’s absolutely nothing in the room that doesn’t blend in. Everything is black and any wood is varnished in an oak finish. My bed sits in the centre of the room so I have full view of the room. Opposite my bed sits the hi-fi and TV and on the right is my varnished 2-door wardrobe that is regularly tidied. I’ve blocked out any light as I do not intend to see the world outside these four walls except the shimmering stars that fire up the midnight sky which I allow myself to view through the skylight. My doors are bolted shut with Hammersmith locks and any holes or passages are closed by tape.-Black tape that is. I have also cut off the wires of the TV, so the only electrical device I use is my hi-fi system to listen to my favourite bands. The room is enlightened by a small, half melted wax candle which sits on top of my bedside table which is stained with dried wax left from last night candle.
As I rest against this cold, hard wall, I gaze upon the skylight and search endlessly for answers. Answers to why I’m here, living this empty life and she’s not. In my hand lays her diary. Her diary which includes her special, cherished memories and secrets from her past life. A life which was once sound and appreciated by her as well as everyone surrounding her. All her secrets are buried beneath the hard blanket of shield to prevent anything from escaping out of these four walls. Her diary is also black although it has pink hearts and stars at the bottom corner. I read a page off it everyday and try to relive the memory but it’s not the same. It’s as if something’s missing but I can’t seem to figure out what that is. She writes about happy, cheerful, joyful things and important things. She writes with passion and emotion and all of her feelings and thoughts are absorbed within the pages. I read each page and fill my head with guilt and grief. I blame myself for taking her privileges from her. Her thoughts, her feelings and her emotions are all gone. She’s gone. I took her life into my hands and turned it all around. That day was my fault. Now all I can do is grieve for her fatal accident. I can’t believe I was blind all along to finally realise what I had done. I pushed away someone who knew how I felt inside and reached out to lend a helping hand and I destroyed her. They’re right. They’re all right. All of them outside these walls. They always treated me as an outcast because I never fitted in and she took me in and showed them that I was no different to them, but now I guess I am. They treated me like I was a charity case. They pitied me, hurt me and shattered my world but she… Jane didn’t. She treated me equally and led me a new way into a new life.
I still have those torments of that day gathered in my head and I can still view the scene in my head over and over again. It was an accident and now everyone thinks that I did it on purpose. Only Jane knows what happened but she’s not here to help me get out of this desperate, hard, struggling situation. She was the best thing that ever happened to me and I pushed her away from me. I look at her old monuments on top of the shelf and it reminds me of the good times we had. If I could, I’d put myself in her position right now. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t been stupid that day maybe she would’ve been here today, side by side with me. I’m so tired of being here and feeling sorry for myself. I hate myself for losing her. Her presence still lingers here but it doesn’t feel the same. Something’s missing. My wounds don’t seem to heal and the pain is just too real and I know that there’s too much that time cannot erase but I can’t face the world on my own. I need her here. Now, all the company I seek is misery all around. There are times when I feel as if I can’t breathe and as I’m stuck. Stuck on an orbit of pandemonium. I used to let myself cause my heart so much misery that I used to break down so easily but you came along and lent me a shoulder to cry on.
I remember when you used to look out for me and protect me. You were the only one that really understood me. Although the others thought I had no one, it felt good to know that they were wrong. I had her. She was there when I needed someone; she was there to fight my fears and kept the rain from falling down into my life. She took my darkest night and made it bright for me and always showed up to lend a shoulder to cry on and a helping hand for when this world turned so cold. I miss her so much. I love her more everyday and nothing will take that away. I thank god that I have this diary to prove that I had someone to talk to. She wrote about how we both made ourselves laugh and lived everyday to the full. She wrote about me, her family and other memories that she cherished. I promised her that I’d be there for her, I’d be that resonating light but that’s a promise that I never kept. If I could turn the clocks back and change what happened that day, I would I’d give anything to see her again.- Face to face. She made everything simple in this crazy world. She made everything ok by just being there and her faith in me was all I needed but right now, I need a little help. A little help off someone who understands me like she could but no one can replace her. No one. It was only last week she was here, but I guess that’s how life is. Obviously there’s so much more to say if she was here today but I guess her memories are the only way to get close to her and relive those special moments, though it’s not the same.
I open her diary and read on from where I left off- but it’s a change of subject! She’s talking about the others. Where am I? She goes on about her life with them but why doesn’t she talk or mention me? I turn over the page, nothing. She doesn’t write about me. I read on, wondering what she’s writing about. I return to the start where she mentioned the day we spent together. I skim through each line, paragraph, chapter. What’s happening? Why hasn’t she mentioned me? I flick through and search for the picture of me and her. I have to find it. We had a lot of memories in pictures but where are they? I pray to god that the others are not correct on the fact that I was an outcast. This diary was the only evidence that I had found someone who let me in. I turn each page and try to find my place in the diary of Jane something’s not right here. Something’s getting in he way. I am in this, but where? I am in her diary. I must be. Tears flood in my eyes and whirlwinds take place in my head as I rip another page and rummage through her memories. I grow desperate. I throw the book and head up towards the pin-up wall and search for the memento’s I pinned earlier but all I see are reappearing words of hate written in red which instantly mutilate me. NO. I HATE RED. I HATE RED! I HATE COLOUR! I rub my hand across the wall to rub off the marker but it just reappears over again and again. I hear a clash of thunder outside but not through the skylight as I’d imagined but the window. The opaque pieces of card. Where have they gone? Who took them off? I see red and grey clouds emerge above the horizons. No, this can’t be happening. As I stare out in to the open sky and colourful land below, I run back. Back to the spot I was sat in but as I turn around I feel something fall and just as I turn I see a glistening blaze. The candle-it’s fallen. I grab my blanket and throw it over the flame to try and prevent it but only add to the rising flame. I look the other way to face my wardrobe and glance over the diary that lays there. I pick it up and skim through it again. I keep telling myself that I will find my place in the diary of Jane but I can’t seem to find out the truth. I hear my favourite band’ Breaking Benjamin’ play in the background as I tear pages from the diary and into the blaze.
I keep telling myself that, it’s just a dream. Nothing else, just a stupid old dream but it felt so surreal at the moment that I was driven in deeper into the wild, vivid nightmare. I just couldn’t wake up! I didn’t know what was going on.
The whole atmosphere within the four walls was tense. I couldn’t see anything. The blaze had grown so much that it had forced itself upon half of the room, creating a crater of ashes behind. I wonder why this is happening and many questions reappear over and over again yet no answers. I feel as if I’m not myself and as if I’m lost. Stranded, in this big, big world. Alone.

















Jane spent memories with me and I remember her writing them in this diary but where are they? The days we used to keep ourselves in each others company, they were too special for her to forget, so she made a note of them. I remember her doing that. Her elegant script sprawled across the pages, line after line, yet now, they’ve magically erased. Why? Is it because of the accident? Are they trying to get their revenge on me? Revenge for what happened that afternoon? Revenge for what I did to my sister? Why? Don’t they know the truth?-That it was an accident?

















I tried to change, after the accident. I know I was going through a rough phase but it was only because I was mourning her. I only acted that way because I needed to. I needed to let all the anger and hurt ease one way or another. But, i changed. That’s the only thing that matters, right?









I guess it wasn’t enough for them. The others.
As I burn another phase, balls of sweat reach my forehead and role down my melting face. I’ve got to get out of here, but how? I promised myself time and time again, that, once I got out if here-whether or not it would happen-I’d start afresh. A new me. But I didn’t think that time would come so soon.



I couldn’t find a way out. Everywhere I turned, the blaze seemed to have taken over. It reached up high, to flicker the ceiling. As I rip off the last page of her page less diary, I begin to wonder-again- why I wasn’t in it. I look across from where I kneeled and catch a smear of the door that hasn’t been attacked by the growing flame. I occurred to me then, in an instance, that should I choose to live a new life and put the past where it belongs0in the past- then I should be able to enter that new dimension I’ve been longing to enter. A place outside of these four walls. A place far, far away from all this hurt and endless misery. A part of me hesitates to go yet I know that deep down, buried beneath all the unsealing pain, I’ve always wanted to do this. As I glance over the remains of my room, I notice that on my pin-up wall, surrounded by all the hurtful words lies a passionate feeling full of emotion reads out the word ‘love’. The word beckons me.
Love. Why is that there, between all the other words of hate and deceive. As I gaze upon the word, i feel a strong gush of wind force its speed against my body. I suddenly feel a sensational emotion within my renewed soul and feel a kindred spirit awaken inside me. I feel content. Something tells me that outside this room, there’s a place with no more hurt or struggling, free of all atrocities and suffering and someone special, like Jane, who could erase all my burdens. I didn’t know that a soundless word could mean so much. I’m suddenly distracted by the strange, yet amazing feeling caused by the blaze that has now surrounded me. It’s all around me. All except a little path quickly disappearing near the stereo. I leap over and onto the other side and glare at the tall, dark rectangle in my wall with revulsion as i swore to myself that i would never break the mould and see what lies behind the door and outside the walls. I hesitate at first and look back, glancing at what’s left of my room through the leaves of the flame. I try to think and relive a memory that Jane and I shared but I can see nothing but a lonely girl with a dark cloud constantly over her head. I open my soar eyes to realise that, that wasn’t just any girl; that was me. I look out the window-with shreds of the black card around the foundation of the window, defining it- to see grey clouds mount up in the sky, covering the colourful horizon. The blaze has now parted me from the pin-up wall but i can still see the red letters. I constantly repeat her name in my head. I look down at the floor. It’s full of dust and mountains of ashes. I know it’s now time to turn back and escape while there’s a way and escape out of the dark tunnel and find a place where there’s nothing harder than it seems. I know there’s something in store for me behind the door. I evoke up Jane as I see the ashes of her torn diary feed into the flame.
I take a deep breath and start stripping off the black tape. It’s hard to take off but I manage ok. I can feel the heat from the flames beat against my back but I know I can make it. I feel my hands go soar and sweaty as I tear down the tape. I strip off the last piece and just as I sigh as a sign of relief, I grab hold of the steel handle with a strong, firm grip. A smile starts to appear on my long face. I take a deep breath and pull the handle with all my strength bearing in mind that I can finally build up my life again and find the truth about Jane. But the door slams shut and my smile disappears into the dark. The bolts prevent the door from releasing out of the frame. As I struggle to open it, I look back and forth and pull the door over and over again. The heat feels as if my entire back is burning and the flesh itself is open to the flames to feed on. I try not to give up. Is this it, I think to myself? Maybe I’m not supposed to get out. Maybe I’ll just end my life here and go to that place up above along with Jane. I feel my muscles tense up as I try not to give up. I see everything around me come down in flames and tell myself to try once again and then let God decide. I build up a few seconds of strength and lean over the door and pull. Within moments, I’m enlightened with a light. A bright light. A soothing light. A white light.
My blurred vision somehow sketches out a stretched corridor. I step into the bright footpath that lies before me. I hear a series of crackling and hear my door slam shut behind me. I turn back and try to open it but I just won’t open. I hear a voice. Jane. It sounded like Jane. I turn back and try to force myself and my energy onto the door. I turn around to expect an image but all that faces me is a reappearing corridor with no-one there. A sudden sense fulfils my soul and I feel as if I have finally found my answers to those questions. Though I didn’t know where I was, I knew there’d be some answers. I hear a soft, slow tune play as I walk up the corridor. I have flashbacks of events. Events that I shared. I see myself in a car accident. She was there. I was behind the wheel. We were at the traffic lights. Everything seemed okay. But all of a sudden, the image turned drastically. I lost concentration and the next thing i knew, Jane was burning alive. Her soft, pale skin shimmering within the hot icicles of the flames. I couldn’t do anything. I was frozen on the pavement, unable to move, unable to help her. I wake up in a dark room and hear words of hate from behind the walls. As if someone’s yelling them at me. I recall myself painting big, bold words in crimson on the wall. I remember a diary. Black diary with hearts and stars on the bottom corner. Inside it...inside it, there was nothing written apart from a previous trip with her family. I remember tearing the pages into the fire, and then...and then i see a black rectangle standing out of the bright wilderness. I notice the door handle and hesitate for a short while to open it, but do so. My vision is full of colour. Red, white, green, blue, black...I step into the path before me which is covered in moss and weeds. I feel exhausted as I gaze upon the skyscrapers and large buildings before me. I pace down the cobbled stairway and view the reappearing faces with various emotions. Some with happiness, some with guilt, some with excitement, some with remorse. I see cars. People, animals. I turn around to see the building I had just come out of. The sign reads ‘Honeywell Foster Centre’. I look in deeper and try to figure out the reason to why I was there.
I look at the ground I stand on and think about the past and still question myself about the fact that I wasn’t in Jane’s. I try to think about the room I was in and what happened there and why it felt as if though I had been there before. Even though I can’t go back to the past, I still have questions about Jane and the fact that she’s gone. I never knew I could hurt like this and now that I’ve got another chance in life, I know that she’s reached a better place. I look forward at the path that is illuminated by the rays of sunlight. I walk down. This is the part when I search for a new life, elsewhere. Though I’m never going to be reunited with Jane, her memories will live on with me. Always. I guess there are some things in life you can never let go of but I know she would’ve wanted me to do this-move on. I carry on walking down with the sun hitting my face. I know I will find happiness again and thank the one above for giving me this chance. The horizons light up as the sun sets. I gaze up for a while then keep on walking.