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

Chapter Thirty-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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Squinting up at my clock, I just about read the time as twelve am. I had been tossing and turning in my bed since Jameson had left. We may be in separate rooms, but I could feel that Jameson's presence had gone. This put me on edge; the last few times I was without Jameson, I had been attacked.

I sat up in my bed, deciding to wait for Jameson to come back rather than stress myself out by trying—and failing—to sleep.

Taking my duvet with me, I then decided upon sitting at my window seat. Despite the fact that it had been the entrance for my not so murderer, this seat is still my favourite place. For a while, I let my eyes flit around the view outside and I mentally marvelled over the beauty of the stars and the streetlights combined.

Something moved underneath a dimly lit streetlight and I leaned in closer to my window to see what it was.

A person.

They came out of the shadows and, again, it was a black figure. Then they looked right at me.

I stood up out of the seat in shock, and if I wasn't already determined to dash out of this room and run miles to find Jameson, then the next thing they did would definitely persuade me.

They held up an arm. Upon squinting, I found out that they were holding up a gun.

My eyes widened and I backed away from the window, tripping over my phone charger just as I heard the gun go off. I fell on my butt as the bullet pierced through my window and hit the wall opposite.

My breathing quickened and my heart felt like it was about to race out of my chest.

I grabbed my phone and scrambled to my feet, not having enough time to thank my phone for saving my life. I ran to the door only to find that it had been locked from the other side. Jameson.

I cursed and burst into Jameson's room, searching everywhere for the spare set of keys. I'm trapped. No, no you're not. I sent Jameson a text, something on the lines of:

SOS, where are the keys.

But my brain was too focused elsewhere that I probably sent an array of totally different words and letters.

I screeched in frustration and ran into my room, looking out the window to keep track of the person.

They were no longer under the streetlights. And then the gun went off again and my first instinct was to fall onto the floor, and a good first instinct that was, as I soon realised when another bullet smashed through my window and hit my bed.

I hesitantly stood up and saw the person climbing the building. My eyes widened and I ran back into Jameson's room, there's got to be something here. I sent Jameson another text,

About to be killed.

Yeah, that should work. I groaned and called him, leaving my phone on his desk on speakerphone to search. My eyes caught a glimpse of a sheet, I turned back around and plucked the sheet from Jameson's desk. It had a map like drawing on it and was titled, 'Emergency Exits', well, that should work.

I desperately tried to make sense of the scribbles whilst calling Jameson again. Then I recognised the format of this map—it was the layout of Jameson's room.

To my surprise, there were quite a lot of exits in his room, which made me wonder if there were any in mine—and, if not, then why? I brushed away the thoughts and looked for the most logical exit. The cupboard? Wow, inventive.