Between Worlds (The Wall Series #1)

Chapter 3

As soon as I stepped inside, my insides tickled with the warm, cozy feeling of home. We passed through the gallery, and every time I came here I stopped to admire the intricate, beautiful designs on both walls that brought the simple gallery to life. Both walls had the same pattern: a simple, cream-white background with innumerable, dark green stems emerging from the bottom corner, spreading as they advanced throughout the expanse of the wall. On each stem were dozens of pretty flowers, of different colours and shapes.

The designs stretched to all the corners where the stems finally converged, ending their adventurous journey across the gallery. It was the bona fide work of Mrs Janet. I usually loved losing myself in the vivid colours, but right now I could barely contain my thoughts.

My muddled head throbbed with panic, desperation, angst and those repetitive, haunting things: my father missing, my mother fighting for her life on a hospital bed. I still didn't know what fragments meant, if it even meant something. And should I even consider what's going to happen to me?

My eyebrows furrowed. Painful thought after painful thought. There was nothing I could do to stop my inner turmoil.

Nothing but wait.

I knew, down in my panic stricken gut, that I was going to have to acknowledge all my questions at some point, no matter how much I tried to push them away.

And no matter how much I brooded, everything seemed to cease at the same statement: All you can do is wait.

Though it seemed unconvincing, I came back to my senses and we moved to the dining room.

The dining table covered most of the room. My eyes lingered from the glass cupboards holding utensils to the food placed on the dining table, all but with little enthusiasm. I was indebted to Mrs Janet for her help, but I knew I was only here because she had insisted. I, myself, had lost any trace of appetite as soon as I'd entered the hospital.

Still, I didn't want to disappoint her, so I pulled out one of the dark-wood chairs and sat down.

I stared at my empty, white plate, and Mrs Janet placed a hand on my shoulder. I finally looked at the other dishes in front of me. I spotted steak, which under normal circumstances would've completely lifted my spirits, but then again, I'd already lost my appetite.

We ate in silence. I could hardly swallow my food, as if I was attempting to eat plastic. My mind was stuck on the same things, the same thoughts, going over and over in my head. My father. Fragments. The wall. Hospital. Mom.

After an eternity, I gulped the last of my steak, relieved of the burden that lumps of food constantly getting stuck in my throat gave. I wiped my hands on the white napkins and wrapped my hand around the glass of water that Mrs Janet—who was waiting for me to finish—had poured out for me. She had finished long before I had. I felt my cheeks burn a little. You're such a slow eater, Amy. Can't you eat at the right pace for once?

I exhaled softly. My father would always crack jokes on how I'd finish dinner the next morning, and my mother would threaten me with no hamburgers for six months, but I just couldn't eat faster.

I brought it slowly to my lips and took a sip, then another. Mrs Janet was clearing the table. If only I was in the right state of mind to help her.

I need to see my mother.

I gulped down the rest of the water and got up. Mrs Janet appeared at the kitchen doorway. "Thank you." I croaked. My throat felt dry despite the water. "I really appreciate it."