I had the weekend off. Sam and I went to the playground, to the library, to a bookstore. We went to the mall, and to the park. Sunday afternoon we went out to eat, that eveing we found a church to visit, not having found one to our liking yet.
When Monday came, Jasper was back to his 'normal' self, screaming and cursing again. I was as if Friday had never happened. I tried speaking to him, thinking it might help, but he merely responded with a stream of profanity that held a large number of words I had never even heard before.
"A large number of those were arcan swear words." Janice, one of the few people I almost liked out of my coworkers, explained over lunch. "Any attempt at kindness only makes him worse."
"So, what, you torment him instead?" I asked angrily. I felt defensive of this strange, screaming person, or at least, the person he was when he wasn't screaming.
"I ignore him" She replied. "It's better for both of us."
"He was sane Friday." I said.
She wasn't surprised. "Sometimes he is. Less and less frequently as time goes by, but..." She shrugged. She didn't really care.
"He said he's been here for five years." I said.
"He talked to you?" She asked. It was my turn to shrug. "He has." She admitted.
"Why was he admitted?"I asked, hoping someone might know.
"I don't know. None of my business. And none of yours, either. So do your job, keep your nose clean, and you'll keep your job."
I understood what she was saying. I could lose my job over a few questions. Jasper was a dangerous subject around here. I sighed. "They'd fire me over curiousity."
"They'd fire you for asking questions. Scott fired Sandra for asking about him"
"His name is Jasper." I informed her.
Janice choked. "Girl, if you wanna keep your job, you'll keep your mouth shut and forget about what's-his-name. Scott doesn't like people nosing around about it."
"Thanks for the warning." I said dully.
She scoffed. "You don't annoy me. I'd like to keep you around. Don't do anything stupid." She added, and her expression was deadly serious.
Tuesday and Wednesday he was the same. I tried not to think about him, about the things he had said, but it was hopeless. He was still ranting and raving, though, and I was done asking people questions, so I could find out nothing more about him.
Thursday was different. He was huddled in a corner of his cell, the corner farthest from the door. His eyes were tighltly closed, and his jaw was clenched. I let him be until I heard a whimper.
He was shaking, I realized as I turned to examine him. He sat with his head against the wall, soft whimpers and gasps escaping him. "Jasper?" I asked softly. He didn't respond. I wondered if I should do something, or if this were another 'normal,' for lack of a better word, mood swing? I turned to leave, but stopped when I heard him speak.
I could barely make out the words he uttered. "Till death do us part. We never thought-" He said nothing else; he merely sat there and cried silently, tearlessly. I wished there were something I could do to help this young man.
"I'm sorry, Jasper." Was all I could think of to say.
Friday came, and he was lucid again. I was silent, uncertain what to do after yesterday. I had seen his broken heart.
"Mornin'," He said at last, tentatively.
I forced a smile. "Good morning." I mumbled. I had meant to speak clearly and confidently.
He regarded me quizzically. "Is something, the matter?" He asked gently, as if he were worried about upsetting me.
I shook my head. "You seem to be feeling better." I said lightly, and the brief crack in his expressionless mask hurt me.
"I'm sorry you had to see that." He said, and his words were drawn out with an odd southern twang. He had understood what I had been referring to, then.
I didn't know what to say. He was apologizing for being miserable. "Is there anything I can do?" I asked. Stupid question, really, to ask someone in a restraining jacket, but I asked anyway.
He shook his head. "A friendly face is more than I could ask for anyway." I wondered what he meant by that.
"Do you play?" He asked suddenly, and I stopped to look at him.
"What?" I asked.
"An instrument." He clarified. "You play an instrument. Guitar?" He guessed.
"Violin." I corrected. He nodded. "What made you think I played an instrument?" I asked.
"Your fingers." He replied dismissively. "The strings leave their mark. Yours are less defined though, than they would be if you played the guitar. I see that now."
It was odd to be standing here discussin musical instruments with him. "Did you play?" I asked. How else would he have noticed, or known?
"Guitar." He replied. "Though Alice-" His voice broke, and he sighed. He swallowed and continued. "Alice was about the only person I played for. Well, and Esme. Though Carlisle joked that I should have been a rock star when he caught me at it."
"Carlisle?" I asked. Such and unusual name. Then again, so was Jasper.
"My father." He replied. "He was a doctor. At a hospital. Not like-" he hesitated, "here."
"Did he have you brought here?" I asked, trying to find out more about him while I could. The fierce look that spread over his features alarmed me. Abruptly, his expression smoothed back out into a mask.
"No. He's gone too. They all are." He sounded depressed.
I sought for some way to make him feel even a little better. "How do you know?" I asked.
"I saw them fall." He nearly snapped at me. "Besides, they woudn't have left me here."
"Maybe they couldn't find you." I suggested. I so wanted to give him some hope. "Maybe they think you're dead.
He didn't think it even worth considering.
Disclaimer: Twilight, of course, does not belong to me.
