Elise

Did you ever notice how the more things change, the more they stay the same? Take the moon, for example. It waxes and wanes, dances across the sky, and yet it does not change at all. The same light that shone over Bach and Caesar all those years ago, that glimpsed Christie and Orwell before visiting me now barely squeezes between the wooden boards covering my window. Nobody else knows about this little visitor of mine, the boards can be moved ever so slightly to hide away the light when he visits. This light is my friend, my dear companion. Oh, how much it tells me, how fascinating are the stories it offers. Sometimes I can see the lonely student, coughing and barely fitting unruly notes on the piece of paper. Kindly ray even stole some of the smoke from his cigarette and the rustling of the papers, coolness of the night and the harshness of the pen in tightly gripped fingers. Poor fellow tries to write down what he half-remembers from the lectures, straining his memory and eyes in equal manner. Ah, well, better not disturb those who are busy. Or, another story, of a quiet figure scaling down from the low balcony, rushing to the edge of the estate. Sadly, I am never quite able to catch what pushes her to perform such a feat. Was she a defiant daughter, indulging in unbecoming whims? An unwilling killer, leaving behind the body of her personal devil, dropping tears and blood as she runs? Little light was young back then, it could not see the finer details, and poor darling never shared such details, not under the moonlight.

These stories are what keeps me company here; my visitors are few these days. Not like this suffocating room was ever all that crowded. Two people, yes, two is the most faces she had ever seen, and I can wager she is pretty tired of mine. No matter how many times I apologise for those ugly scratches I made during my first months with her, she never talks to me, not like my little light does. You’d think that breaking my nails with her walls would be enough of a penance, but no, she still holds that petty grudge. Well, she will have to accept my companionship, she is certainly not getting anyone new anytime soon. Perhaps she will complain about me to the next poor soul stuck in here, as if the stale air and biting chill of darkness are not enough misery for that fellow, whoever he might be. I’m certainly not going to leave my blanket to him, no matter how prickly and thin it is. I decide the fate of my things, even if all I have is this damp old piece of cloth.

Creaking of the stairs knocks on the door long before the hand opens it. What little brightness is daring enough to follow him up the stairs outlines the stiff figure, but hides the face. If my memory is to be trusted, which I doubt more and more as the time stumbles by, his eyes should be kind and his cries full of rage. Oh no, it’s all messed up again. Hopefully I will remember him properly at some point.

“How uncivilised, the stairs were more polite than you. Who taught you manners? They’ve done a terrible job.”

“Remember Elise?”

Elise, yes, such a darling. Tender and gentle, her joy sparked like the brightest of flames, her laugh delighted better than any feast, her name always hurts so much. My dear Elise, so sorry, I have to not remember you, not now. Perhaps you’ll come back to me when we’re alone, as we so often were, as we should be. No, this unsightly brute does not deserve your company.

“The baker’s wife?”

“Your Elise. Do you remember your Elise?”

My Elise. Of course I do, my Elise is happiness, she is the smell of flowers and the brisk touch of midnight wind. My Elise is so precious, she was from the moment we first met, from the moment I sheltered her, helped her dispose of unsightly red on her dress under the heavy cloak, from the moment I brushed off her tears.

“My Elise? I was never close with anyone who goes by such a name. Perhaps you mistake me for someone. It’s so dark here that it’s impossible to make out any faces.”

He did not reply, but instead pulled something out of his pocket. A locket dangled from his grip, glistening in what little light there was. My locket.

My dash to regain my possession was quickly stopped by his hand, gripping tightly on my throat.

“That always does it, yeah? Your things in my hands make you go nuts.”

Thief, lowly thief! How dare he stand there, with my locket. It is mine, mine alone.

“Return it this moment! Return what rightfully belongs to me!”

“Who gave you this?”

“My Elise, she gave it to me for all the good I’ve done!”

How she blushed back then, how ashamed she was that she had nothing greater to give me. This locket was one of the few things of value she had, the other being her mother’s wedding ring. “This cannot repay for all the kindness you have shown me, but please, accept it.” Oh Elise, your company during my tireless studies was more than enough. Your quiet breath as you tried to read my books, unfamiliar with the many words that were thoroughly described to me during lectures, trying to make sense of what little you could understand.

“So you remember her,” he said, after a pause.

His hand squeezed even tighter around my neck, nails burying into the skin. No matter, I must have my locket back. If only… His knee jerked, taking my breath. Does he always have to steal from me?

“Finally remembered, yeah? Next, who am I?”

A thief and a brute, that’s who. Always taking, always stealing, leaving nothing but burning and pain. My locket, my air, even the ring, glistening so tauntingly. Little flares jumping from the locket’s chain to the ring and back, mingling, like they used to before he got either of them.

“Will, Willy, or whatever those idiots call you when you drink with them. Satisfied?”

I guess he smirked, his face was nigh impossible to see. I knew what was coming. He always did the same thing, breaking and beating. Always the same conversation too. I’ve tried pretending not to remember, I’ve tried talking about other things, I’ve tried things I’ve already forgotten, no doubt, but my mind is no match for his determination. One way or another, he always gets me to remember Elise and him. Perhaps it’s for the better that I don’t remember the pain when he’s not around. Today was no different. His parting gift being the wooden bowl of something that is likely edible, not that it made any difference. I’ll forget it all soon anyway, so what does the taste matter? It has to look gross too, but I wouldn’t know, he stole the light too as he was leaving, and I will not subject my little moonlight to the contents of the bowl.

Oh, Elise, I wish so dearly that he wouldn’t take you with him. Even though thinking of you freshens the wounds, I will endure it for you, my dear Elise. Mind is a tricky place, that’s what they taught us in the university, what I’ve always told you. Do you remember out late night talks about all manner of things, about the moon, about the great men of old, about my studies and your discoveries in the city? Such a child, I swear, you’d be amazed at the most common things. All that simplicity charmed you, my angel, didn’t it? What fool I was, not seeing it sooner. You always chose the simple things to adore.

Mind is a tricky place indeed, but we have all sorts of techniques to alter it, to guide it away from wandering where it should not. I’ve done my best, but you’ve gone too far, truly, your fascination was most unhealthy. What reasonable person would have such an obsession with things that are so banal and commonplace? Your mind has wandered completely off. Isn’t it lucky that dr. Moniz came up with such a wondrous way to eliminate those desires, most unwanted desires, really. It was painful, I know, but all things that are worthwhile require a sacrifice. I sacrificed too, our long talks, my delight in your playfulness, they were all gone, but it had to be done.

Oh, my dear Elise, how I miss you in these brief moments. Worry not, I will find my way out of here and back to you, I promise, perhaps my little friend will tell me how to do it. Now, what did you bring, little light? Your stories help me of so much, I’ll listen to just one more and start planning immediately after. Now tell me, little light, do you ever notice how the more things change, the more they stay the same?