In the warm embrace of St. James’s Hospital, the air was filled with the whirring of machines and the muted symphony of beeping monitors. There, two souls danced in the shadows of sorrow and hope.
Desire, her golden hair like rays of sunlight, sat by the window, drawing doodles on the foggy glass with her fingertip. Her laughter, bright and infectious, broke the heavy air of death that surrounded her.
“Look, Despair!” she exclaimed, glancing at the girl slumped in the chair across from her. “It’s a butterfly!” She motioned to the drawing displayed on the window.
Despair, her dark hair cascading like a waterfall of shadows around her pale face, lifted her gaze reluctantly, her lips pursed in a half-hearted attempt at a smile. “It looks more like a potato,” she muttered, her voice a soft whisper that barely carried over the faint hum of the fluorescen
t lighting.
Desire chuckled, the sound like tinkling bells. “You always have to ruin the magic, don’t you?”
Despair rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitched upwards. “Someone has to keep your feet grounded. If you keep dreaming, you might float away.”
The two girls had formed an unlikely bond within the hospital walls. Desire, though confined by her illness, radiated a zest for life that was almost tangible. She was a spark, lighting up the grayness of their shared reality. Despair, on the other hand, wore a heavy fog that wrapped around her like a familiar blanket, suffocating yet comforting.
As the days turned into weeks, their conversations deepened, revealing the layers hidden beneath their facades. Desire would talk about the world outside—the vibrant colors of autumn leaves, the laughter of children playing in the park, or the sweetness of ice cream on a hot summer day.
“Don’t you think it’s true?” Desire asked one afternoon, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “That life can be beautiful even if it hurts?”
Despair stared at the floor, her fingers tracing the fabric of her hospital gown. “I’ve only
ever known the hurt.”
Desire leaned closer, her voice a soft melody. “Maybe we can find beauty together. Just look at the flowers outside! They bloom even when the weather’s cold.”
Despair’s heart twisted at the thought. “And then they die.”
“Only to bloom again,” Desire insisted, her eyes unwavering. “Just like us.”
Days turned into a blur of laughter and moments they took back from the looming shadows. They shared secrets and dreams, fears and hopes. Desire found herself drawn to the darkness that surrounded Despair, intrigued by the depth of her sorrow. Despair, in turn, felt a flicker of warmth for the first time, like a candle in the midst of a brutal winter storm.
The fragile balance between them began to shift when Desire’s health took a sudden turn. One morning, she woke up with a strange heaviness in her chest, a feeling of something being terribly wrong. The nurses rushed in, their faces full of grim vexation, and the beeping machines turned frantic, a chorus of alarms ringing in the sterile room.
“Desire!” Despair screamed, her heart racing as she watched the doctors work frantically to
stabilize her friend. “Please…”
Desire, pale and fragile, managed a weak smile, her eyes filled with the light of the brightest stars. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise. Just… hold my hand.”
Despair grasped her hand tightly, feeling the warmth slipping away. “You’re going to be okay. You have to be!”
But Desire’s breath became ragged, and the room spun with a symphony of medical jargon and the frantic rustling of nurses. There was a flicker of fear in Desire’s bright eyes as the light faded away.
* * *
The days that followed were a blur of grief and denial for Despair. She wandered the hospital halls like a ghost, her laughter silenced, the spark that was Desire extinguished. She spent hours sitting by Desire’s empty bed, her heart heavy with guilt and sorrow.
The weight of despair crushed her spirit, and soon, the shadows that had been comforting turned sinister. The world outside, which had once seemed vibrant through Desire’s eyes, felt bleak and suffocating once more. Each day was a reminder of the laughter that had filled the room,
now replaced by an echoing silence.
Weeks passed, and the hospital felt more and more like a prison. The walls seemed to close in, the air thick with unspoken grief. Despair wandered the halls, her mind a tangled web of thoughts. The nurses gave small smiles to her, but she remained unresponsive, seeing the pity in their eyes. It made her want to scream.
Frustration bubbled beneath her skin. She felt like a balloon ready to pop, filled with emotions she couldn’t understand – much less express. The laughter and hope that had once filled her heart turned to a bitter ache that clawed at her insides.
She was my light, she thought to herself, sitting on her bed. The moon cast a silver glow through her foggy window, and she could still see the marks in the glass where Desire had traced smiling faces and shining suns.
Despair’s thoughts spiraled into an abyss of anguish as the days dragged
on. She stopped eating, finding solace in the numbness that came with her hunger. Each meal was a reminder of the vibrant life Desire had celebrated, and she couldn’t bear it.
One night, as rain pelted against the window like a thousand tiny drummers, Despair sat cross-
legged on the floor, tears streaming down her face, numb from the cold. “I can’t do this,” she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t live without you.”
She thought of the flowers outside, of the beauty that Desire had seen even through her pain. But I don’t want to bloom, she thought.
With that thought, Despair chose to embrace the darkness that had enveloped her heart. She found comfort in the idea of slipping away, of leaving behind the pain and grief that had become her constant companions.
With every passing hour, she withdrew further into herself, each heartbeat a reminder of the life she was leaving behind. The world faded away, blurred by tears and memories of a love that had once illuminated her existence. As the sun dipped below the horizon, Despair surrendered to the darkness, slipping into a peaceful void where pain could no longer touch her.
The next morning, she lay still in her bed, the sun filtering through the curtains like a gentle caress. In the quiet aftermath, the hospital continued in its rhythm, unaffected by the loss of two souls who had danced on the boundary of despair and desire.
Outside, the flowers bloomed.
