The Hollows Of Hiraeth (✔️) | 'Hollows' Book I

Chapter Twenty-Two

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T h e   H o l l o w s   O f
H I R A E   T  H
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It was around midnight and I was sat up in my hospital bed, gazing out of my window, losing myself to the dancing stars and the myriad of street lights dotted around the academy grounds. I sighed as I was subconsciously aware of the clock ticking by.

The door handle to my room squeaked and I smiled to myself, sitting upright as I watched Jameson walk in. I grinned at him, relieved that he had actually turned up. He gave me only a small smile, but it didn't bother me since this was more than his usual gesture.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming," I told him, referring to my earlier moments of loneliness where I had been staring out of the window as if the moon would talk to me.

Jameson had been sneaking into the hospital for a few days now, and since my only other source of entertainment were Angela's jokes, I enjoyed his visits.

Visiting hours closed just after dinner at half six, and so coming at midnight was pretty rebellious, especially for Jameson. It's actually quite amusing since Jameson didn't usually break the rules—God knows why he does it to visit me.

"No, of course not." Jameson simply responded and sat down on the chair. Clearing his throat, he added, "It's not like I have anything else to do." He shrugged, his eyes watching me, analysing my appearance in order to determine my wellbeing.

I laughed, "You could maybe sleep?" Jameson let out a single note of laughter in response. I grinned victoriously but relaxed the enthusiastic smile into a lazy one when Jameson frowned at me.

"So how are you?" He asked me, completely ignoring my sleep comment.

I shrugged, "I'm still alive," I noted and smiled, however, Jameson didn't return the favour. Instead, he gave me a sad smile. Awkward.

To move past the uneasy tension in the air, I pushed the covers off and swung my legs around, feeling the cold floor against the pads of my feet. Jameson, of course, immediately stood up with his eyes widened, his arm outstretched as if to catch my nonexistent fall.

"Calm down!" I giggled and pushed him. "I can walk now, the sessions with that weird dude actually paid off." I nodded approvingly.

'That weird dude' was actually a specially trained physician and he was helping me move about after whatever happened. More importantly, he was helping me walk.

He was somewhere in his thirties with dark brown hair and stubble. However, his name is something I don't know, he literally walked into my room one day and told me what his job was and to call him whatever I wanted; so I chose The Weird Dude.

Jameson shook his head disapprovingly at the nickname but did not stop me from showing off. And so, I stood up, wincing as I went, causing Jameson to instantly shoot up by my side. I waved him off, knowing that the pain was just a normal thing when I moved.

Jameson caught my hand and held it as I took a step to the left, trying to walk over to the door. I had achieved this distance in the training session with The Weird Dude, however, it took a while.

By the time I got to the edge of my bed, I found that I had to lean into Jameson slightly to lessen the strain on my wound. It's so frustrating, my legs feel fine and are ready to sprint off into the distance, yet the pain in my stomach warns me not to.

With the help of Jameson, I eventually made it over to the wall. When I did arrive, I repeatedly hit my forehead against the wall. Stupid stomach, stupid, stupid–