Walls Of Hearts

Chapter 104

Narrator's POV

Each day after that was just like the day before. For everyone else, the sun still rose and set, and the moon lit up the night sky in all its' beautiful solitary, but for Jasmine and Harry, the night and day didn't exist anymore as it all merged into one. The world still moved around for everyone else, but for Harry and Jasmine, it was like they were stuck in a depressing painting, hung in a museum but were paid no attention.

Jasmine barely slept, her trance fixed in both shock and despair. And if she did sleep, she'd wake up at various points of the night, sweating from some kind of horrid dream. She didn't speak to a single person, she had nothing to say to anybody - not when words weren't going to change anything. So instead, she curled up within herself and avoided all thoughts trying to enter her mind at a million-mile distance - she wasn't going to risk it because thinking led to feeling and she absolutely didn't want to feel anything at all.

The morning right after the huge revelation made to her, Dr Isaac and Kelsey had both come in to check on her after her sudden silence from the afternoon before, only to realise that the lunch, dinner and breakfast meals since, were cold and stale as they sat lifelessly on top of the over bed food bench. The food hadn't even been glanced at. This feeling of numbness that settled around her heart and brain like the fumes of a factory led to a similar dearth of appetite. Dr Isaac believed it was best to put her back on an IV drip and a feeding tube at mealtimes. Jasmine, who usually would have flinched at the touch of a needle, stared blankly when they stuck it into her skin.

She spent most of the day laying in bed, not a word, nor a thought. She often felt as though she wasn't even present there - as though it wasn't her body. When her Mum or Anne or Gemma spoke to her, it went straight over her head. She'd look at them which made them feel as though they'd grabbed her attention, but her eyes that were usually full of joy and happiness were now empty and dark.

But whilst everybody's attention was on Jasmine, it wasn't like Harry wasn't struggling either. After all, they were the two wings of a butterfly, starkly different but scarily alike, and of the same body. Without one, the other couldn't fly either.

Harry didn't stay at the hospital the same way he did before. The receptionists had gotten used to seeing him go out to get breakfast every morning and return as quick as possible. When Jasmine's mum was back in Australia, Harry wouldn't leave Jasmine's room unless he couldn't help it. The nurses knew him and even some of the patients on the floor had formed acquaintances with him after seeing him around all of the time. He formed a real presence there.

But the evening that Harry left to go back home, the only day he came early just like before was the very next day, in hope that Jasmine would've slept over it and would be ready to talk. When he realised how emotionally detached she was, Harry couldn't bear it and went home again.

Instead, he stayed on the sofa, just as lifeless as his wife. He'd only change out of his clothes if he was going to the hospital but all the other times, he sat there, a stinking sight to any eye. His eyes were mostly red and puffy throughout the day, his cheeks blotched after spending most of the time crying.

"This place reeks of alcohol," Louis had said to himself when he turned up at the house after being worried about Harry's lack of presence lately. Even Louis had gone to the hospital more than Harry in the last few days. "So do you - oh wow - Harry, mate, when was the last time you showered?"

Harry looked up at his friend before answering. "Are you coming from the hospital?" He dodged Louis' question, deeming it not important.

"Yeah, I am. Eleanor's still there. I thought I'd come and see how you were doing."