Remembering Sunday

"Nicolette, you're gorgeous; don't let other people tell you otherwise." The handsome boy with blond and brown hair smiled, brushing the girl he held dearly's hair back behind her ear.

To him and nearly everyone else who saw her, she was the most beautiful girl they ever laid eyes on. Her blonde hair was down to her waist, flowing in effortless waves. Her ice blue eyes seemed to sparkle in the dullest light, and her smile had the power to make a criminal go straight. She was thin, but had the perfect curves, enough to make any boy go wild. To everyone, she was happy and she didn't have a care in the world, except the boy she called her boyfriend.

But to her, she was the exact opposite. To her, her ends were split and her eyes were pale and dull. Her smile was crooked and tried desperately to fix the unbroken problem. To her, she was fat, even though she was a little underweight for her height and age. Her laugh was more of a cackle, and her personality seemed boring. To her, she was just Plain Jane. Her home was like a war zone, her parents being nuclear bombs. Everything she did seemed to set them off time after time: Grades, not talking as often as she should, doing stupid stuff like drinking. She hated home, and desperately tried to be out of there as often as she could. Every week she sported new bruises and scars, to which she expertly covered up; she's had a lot of practice. She hated home; she hated life.

The blonde gave the boy before her a small smile, whispering softly. "Thanks, Al."

The boy took that as an answer, quickly lacing their fingers tightly and leaning down to kiss her delicately. She was left breathless, just like every time she was kissed by this boy. She just prayed he felt the same.


The boy woke with a start, his chest aching from an empty feeling he couldn't even come close to describing. His eyes were met with surrounding darkness, enveloping him in a familiar state of mind. Bags were under his eyes from the sleep he refused to have because every time he closed his eyes for an hour, she seemed to always be there.

In his half drunken state of mind, he felt around for his shoes in the dark, finding them just at the side of his bed where he had taken them off only two hours beforehand. His keys were placed next to them as well, so he grabbed them too and headed outside. Outside was a little brighter from the streetlights and moon, but it didn't seem to lighten his spirits at all. It was two in the morning.

He didn't drive; he knew fully well that he was half drunk still, and he didn't want to have his Final Judgment Day so soon; though, half of him wished he would. His mind drifted off to Memory Lane, and like every moment, her face flashed in his mind, and he dropped to his knees, remembering the last day he saw her beautiful face: Sunday.


"Yeah, I'll have two eggs over medium and a bagel with cream cheese." The head over heels in love boy said, smiling softly at the old waitress. Her brown hair was graying, but her green eyes still held the sparkle that told anyone who looked in them that she was young at heart.

The waitress nodded, smiling at the boy before looking at the girl across the table. She knew this boy was in love with the blond girl; anyone with eyes could see that. "And for you, drear?"

The blonde looked up from her small drawing on her paper placemat, a pink tint coming to her cheeks, making her all the more beautiful. "Oh, um, I'll have what he's having, only one egg and scrambled."

"Okay, it should be right out." The waitress smiled, taking the menus from the two young adults and walking away, but not before looking at them boy with a spark igniting in her that young love was still happening these days.

Nicolette went back to her drawing, scowling at it slightly that it was, yet again, another picture of her dream family: The father was holding hands with his wife, both smiling like they were at their wedding again; and there was a girl next to the mother, grinning from ear to ear because she was happy with her life. Not wanting her boyfriend to see, she ripped it off quickly and shoved it in her pocket before her boyfriend could see.

But, unbeknownst to her, he saw, but didn't say anything. Desperately, he's been trying to get the girl he was in love with to open up to him, but she's never cracked. When he's asked about her family, she's always quick to change the subject. When he sees the faint scars on her thin wrists, she pulls away before he can actually get a good look at them. Never has she ever fully opened up to him, and that saddens him deeply; he just wants to know more about the girl he plans to marry.

"So, you want to go to a party tonight?" He asked softly, not wanting to go any louder, for fear of anyone hearing. Like every party he went to, underage drinking was definitely not unheard of. Hit was the typical party: Drinks all around in red plastic cups that practically screamed 'party,' music blasting rap music to the loudest it could go so the whole house would vibrate to the beat, and couples and non-couples were professing their 'love' for one another in the upstairs bedrooms.

Nicolette never liked going to these parties, but seeing her boyfriend their carefree and having the time of his life ways answered for her. "Sure. Who's hosting?"

"Jack." The boy smiled at the sound of his best friend. Jack Barakat was quite a person; he met the boy he called 'best friend' when he was merely in high school, starting a band just for the fun of it, and the two have been inseparable ever since, bringing along two other friends that were now part of the All Time Low family. Nicolette loved Jack to death, considering him the brother she never got to have.

"Of course." The girl playfully rolled her ice blue eyes, knowing that her best friend was known for having wild parties; but she didn't care because for a night, her troubles were washed away with her best friend: Jack Daniels.

Eight hours later, the two young adults were out of their right minds. The infamous plastic red cups were in their hands as they danced to the beat of a Wiz Khalifa song. Alcohol was swimming in their minds, letting the two forget about their cares for the night and putting in happy thoughts so they could have the time of their lives. Something was different that night though. A spark, maybe? A firework? Or maybe it was just the booze; but whatever it was, it caused the blonde to pull her boyfriend up the stairs, a devilish grin dancing on her lips. She said she never believed in love, the secret to that story safe in her heart, never left to be unlocked. But the boy was determined to call her bluff; he knew this was love; he just knew it. And the boy - deep down - wished this was the night she was going to open up to him.


Alex put his hands to his scruffy face, letting out an immensely loud scream of anger and grief, sobs breaking out soon after. His heart was aching terribly, and he wished the pain would go away just for a moment so he could recover a little. But it wasn't going to come anytime soon. Unbeknownst to him, this pain he was experiencing wasn't going to leave for a very, very long time.


His Converse clad feet smacked the pavement as he walked to the girl's house. His clothes and hair were beginning to get soaked from the on pouring rain that was ensuing from the dark storm clouds, but he didn't care; he was here to see his girl. One day, she had told him not to come to her house, telling him if he did, he was going to regret it. But after the other night's events, he didn't think that ruled applied anymore. He was going to see her no matter what. His knuckles knocked on the door a third time that day, hoping that someone was going to eventually answer the door; he had been standing there for seven minutes and not a sign of anyone home was answering him. He frowned, slumping his shoulders a little as he ran over to the neighbor's house, hoping they would have an idea where the girl he loved was at.

The middle aged man next door didn't know where his neighbor had gone, much to Alex's dismay; he suggested that the family had moved away, hoping that was a little help to the young adult. It didn't help, but Alex thanked the man and walked to the neighbor's on the other side of Nicolette's house.

The elderly couple answered the door after a minute, looking up at the tall boy before them; Alex didn't seem to let their tear stained faces go unnoticed. The boy's face was a little panic stricken, and that worried the two. They knew exactly who he was looking for.

"Hi, u-uh, I'm sorry; I don't mean to be a bother, but have you seen Nicolette Anderson by any chance? Your neighbor? She hasn't answered her door." The boy stuttered out, his mind zipping with imaginary thoughts of what could have happened.

The woman's and man's faces fell for a second, knowing what had happened to the girl. They didn't want to be the bearers of terrible news, but they knew they had to tell him, for fear of him finding out in a way he knew he wouldn't like. They invited him inside, telling him that they needed to tell him something, surprising Alex a little, but he accepted, knowing full well that he could fend for himself if anything bad happened.

The three walked in an old fashioned living room moments after, letting Alex sit on the chair across from them. He denied the cookies and tea they offered, but politely asked if they could tell him where his girlfriend was. The woman whisked away a small tear from the corner of her eye, frightening Alex to the bone. What happened to Nicolette?

"Son, we...we're afraid the we're the bearers of bad news. Nicolette, she, uh..." The man sighed deeply, an aching in his heart because the girl that had come to his home frequently, was now gone. Alex leaned in, his eyes watering quickly; this couldn't be happening. "Nicolette has passed away."

"What?" Alex croaked out, his voice cracking as salty water droplets fell down his clean shaven cheeks; Nicolette had said that she liked him clean shaven, not all scruffy like he liked.

"She was found in her room dead just last night. We're so sorry, son." The woman continued, seeing as her husband was struggling to stay strong.

"H-How? Why?" Alex proceeded, his heart thumping loudly in his ears like his best friend Rian's bass drum did in songs. How could the girl he just made love with be gone? It didn't made any sense.

"She had shot herself with he father's gun; they don't know why. But I suspect it was because of her parents. They were always fighting." The woman sighed, scowling sadly. She, too, was struggling to stay strong in front of the young boy.

Alex was now dashing out of the old couple's home and over to his girlfriend's house. Nearly breaking the door in half, he dashed upstairs through the empty home. Nothing was left behind at all. Furniture and pictures were gone, leaving no trace of anyone living there behind. His feet found their way into a light blue room, and he knew that it was Nicolette's room, seeing as blue was her favorite color. His heart sank. Nothing. She wasn't there to be sitting on her bed, a large smile he went weak at the knees for on her face, shouting out 'Just kidding!' It was all real. She was gone.

Alex raised an eyebrow as his dark brown eyes landed on an off-white envelope taped to the back wall. 'Alex' was written in cursive in her perfect handwriting, sitting there as if it knew he was going to come. Carefully, he pulled off the envelope and ripped it open. His back found the wall, and soon his butt found the floor, his knees not being able to support his weight at the moment.

His hands shook as he unfolded the piece of notebook paper. Her handwriting was written across the paper in purple pen; her favorite pen to be exact. The boy began reading, wiping away his tears so he could see properly.

'My dearest Alexander,

By the time you should be reading this, I'll already be gone. Alex, I'm going to make this short and sweet, but I want to tell you how I've really been feeling for the twenty years I've been living. My entire life, I've been unhappy. My parents have been driving me mad, and I know I don't show it on the outside, but on the inside, I've been wishing I were dead for the past five years. My dad's been abusing me for many reasons, some even unknown to me, but it's been going nonstop; I've just been really good at covering the bruises and scars up. My parents and I fight every night, and every night my wrists seem to be best friends with my razor. My grades are lower than Hell itself, I always want to be by myself, and nothing seems to make me happy except you. But I'm tired of living this life of lies and pretending my life is perfect; it's not, though; it's terrible. I'm tired of living this life of cutting and being abused, mentally and physically.

Alex, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I know I told you I never believed in love, but who knows? Maybe these feelings I've been having are love. But it wasn't enough. The bad things kept outweighing the good things; you and the boys were the only good things in my life.

But, sadly, you weren't enough. Everyone else will be happy once I'm gone, so I'm granting their wishes and having my final Judgment Day sooner than them. Who knows? Maybe life will be great up there. But it will never be perfect until you're there. Alex, you're my heaven, but it's just not enough. I'm so sorry.

I'll make sure to watch over you up in the clouds, or wherever I'm going. Please, don't forget me; I'll never forget you.

Love,
Nicolette'


Alex screamed out in pain and agony once again, no doubt waking up neighbors around him; but he didn't care. He just wanted the girl he loved to come home. Every night he thinks of her and how he knew he should've seen the signs. It all started to make sense. Now that he thinks of it, she did have signs of it, but they were subtle. Nicolette was not your average suicide case. He hated himself for not seeing them sooner, though.

He just wished she could be with the girl he wanted to marry. But, sadly, that day won't come for a very long time.

"Alex?"

The boy turned around quickly, jumping at the sound of a familiar voice; he sighed sadly when it was only Jack, his best friend. Jack was definitely a mess when he had found out the news, and was devastated like the rest of his friends, but no one came close to what Alex felt. Jack looked sadly at his crying best friend, walking over and sitting next to him silently. The blond and brown haired boy let out a sob, falling in his best friend's lap; and the two grieved over the friend they had lost until the sun had risen before going home.

These feelings weren't going to go away soon; Nicolette was forever going to be in their minds, reminding them of the girl they loved, never to return in their lives again.

And Alex Gaskarth will always be remembering Sunday.