Sleep hadn't even occurred to Adam as he looked at the small – perfectly formed – gold button in his hand. Since he had left Joan in the hospital most of his time had been spent outside in his shed forcing pieces of metal to fit together, whether or not they wanted to. The force exhibited in his latest work would have scared someone like Helen who might have been able to understand them but his father figured that all Adam needed was some space. After all, his girlfriend was sick.
What Adam's father didn't know – what nobody else knew – was just how sick Joan was. And the fact that Adam would never tell anyone about her confession in the hospital cut him up just a little inside.
He knew that the sensible thing would be to mention it to someone like Helen – who would probably dismiss away his fears with a smile and say that it was just fever-dreaming – but somehow Adam just could not bring himself to betray Joan's confidence. Even if what she said were really the words of drugs that had been pumped through her blood. He hoped that they were just words fuelled by the drugs.
Whatever had caused her to tell him that exact thing at that exact moment didn't really matter in the end, what mattered was the way he reacted. And Adam had been mentally kicking himself since he uttered the words: "I believe you believe it."
At the time he thought it best not to placate her by simply giving Joan the answers she wanted – usually that's what she would want – but he had never really factored in how long she had been sick. How connected she was to the 'visions' she had been seeing.
Sighing he rolled the small, round button through his gloved fingers and placed it onto the almost-completed sculpture. Sparks from the welding caught in the moonlight – which filtered more sharply than it should – cutting through the doorway of his shed, causing the ache behind Adam's eyes to grow. As he watched the button succumbed to the heat and began to melt, deforming into something completely different because of the pressure. The intensity.
The button made him think of Joan, and how different she might be after her ordeal. After all, he had never really known the 'real' Joan, only one who was ill. And that scared him more than a little. In the short time he had known her Adam had managed to fall in love with the girl that he knew as 'Jane', no doubt aided by the part she had played in helping him come to terms – just a little – with his Mother's death.
Adam had feared that falling for Joan would end up being a bad thing and he was beginning to think that maybe this was the consequence of all the good times she had brought him. She had momentarily stopped the downward spiral of his life, and now she was sick. Just like everyone he loved.
Taking a deep breath he placed the welding equipment down, removed his gloves and took one last look at the remains of the button deciding it looked all wrong now. Trying not to let the bitter look he knew was coating his face seep into his veins Adam swallowed hard and turned out the light, heading inside to try and find some solace in unconsciousness.
What Adam's father didn't know – what nobody else knew – was just how sick Joan was. And the fact that Adam would never tell anyone about her confession in the hospital cut him up just a little inside.
He knew that the sensible thing would be to mention it to someone like Helen – who would probably dismiss away his fears with a smile and say that it was just fever-dreaming – but somehow Adam just could not bring himself to betray Joan's confidence. Even if what she said were really the words of drugs that had been pumped through her blood. He hoped that they were just words fuelled by the drugs.
Whatever had caused her to tell him that exact thing at that exact moment didn't really matter in the end, what mattered was the way he reacted. And Adam had been mentally kicking himself since he uttered the words: "I believe you believe it."
At the time he thought it best not to placate her by simply giving Joan the answers she wanted – usually that's what she would want – but he had never really factored in how long she had been sick. How connected she was to the 'visions' she had been seeing.
Sighing he rolled the small, round button through his gloved fingers and placed it onto the almost-completed sculpture. Sparks from the welding caught in the moonlight – which filtered more sharply than it should – cutting through the doorway of his shed, causing the ache behind Adam's eyes to grow. As he watched the button succumbed to the heat and began to melt, deforming into something completely different because of the pressure. The intensity.
The button made him think of Joan, and how different she might be after her ordeal. After all, he had never really known the 'real' Joan, only one who was ill. And that scared him more than a little. In the short time he had known her Adam had managed to fall in love with the girl that he knew as 'Jane', no doubt aided by the part she had played in helping him come to terms – just a little – with his Mother's death.
Adam had feared that falling for Joan would end up being a bad thing and he was beginning to think that maybe this was the consequence of all the good times she had brought him. She had momentarily stopped the downward spiral of his life, and now she was sick. Just like everyone he loved.
Taking a deep breath he placed the welding equipment down, removed his gloves and took one last look at the remains of the button deciding it looked all wrong now. Trying not to let the bitter look he knew was coating his face seep into his veins Adam swallowed hard and turned out the light, heading inside to try and find some solace in unconsciousness.