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

Chapter Forty-Four

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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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I took a huge bite of my slice of pizza and hummed in satisfaction. I looked over at Jameson to see him holding in a laugh and I rolled my eyes, but then letting out a laugh of my own.

"You know when you said your favourite colour was turquoise?" The question sprung out as I began to consider the little that I knew of Jameson's background story.

Jameson frowned but nodded as he picked up a slice, "Yeah, because I grew up around a beach." He shrugged and I nodded.

"Yes, where did you grow up?" The pained expression that took over Jameson's features made me instantly regret ever asking him the question.

Jameson managed to shake it off, and after a bite of his pizza, he responded. "I don't know," Jameson sighed and I frowned.

Seeing my response, Jameson elaborated. "I grew up in Devon, but at a pretty young age I moved." He shrugged, leaving me to figure out how he didn't know where he moved to.

"How can't you know where you moved to?" I asked him with a small laugh, apparently not feeling guilty about questioning his life story. Jameson dropped the slice he was holding into the pizza box and leaned against the wall, staring out of my window.

"Because–" He paused and cleared his throat. "Because I was.." He trailed off in thought, trying to piece together his thoughts to make a sentence. "I was kidnapped." Jameson finished, turning to look at me, probably to see my reaction.

My jaw fell and my eyes widened. What?

"God, that's–" Jameson broke me off from voicing my thoughts.

"Awful? Wrong? Dreadful?" Jameson threw adjectives at me and I waited for him to get through his sudden outburst. When he finally did, Jameson sighed and picked up his discarded pizza slice, taking a bite of it.

"Well, I was actually going to say horrid but.." I trailed off and Jameson's lips twitched slightly, as if he was going to smile, but then—no. Nope, doesn't want to smile.

"What happened when you were kidnapped?" I blurted out the question and quickly slapped my palm against my lips after it spilled out. Jameson rose an eyebrow at me but shook his head, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"I was eight and I was there until I was twelve. I don't know exactly where we were—we didn't leave England—must've been Yorkshire or something, it was a costal area, we lived on this cliff, the grass all patchy and the harsh waves smashing against the deteriorating, dusty rocks. It was nothing like what I grew up with." Jameson told me and I felt my eyebrows raise in shock. I can't believe I've been making fun of his lack of emotions when they were probably all symptoms of PTSD.

"They were the bad guys–"

"Woah, woah." I suddenly lost all sympathy for him, "The ones you told me you knew nothing about?" I accused and Jameson crossed his arms around his chest defensively.

"That's because I don't, I was telling the truth. All I know is that they were training me up, kind of like what happens here, but with a lot more blood thirst." I found my breath hitching in my throat at the new found information I was being given about Jameson's life. Then it clicked.

"That's why you were a guardian at a young age! Because you were trained from a young age." I nodded at my findings as Jameson picked at a slice of pizza.