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

Chapter Forty-Five

^ Happy New Year's Day, love from 'Sky' and her glitter ^

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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 a few hours later and the night had started to set in, the outside dimming from the lack of sunlight. I was tapping my nails against the surface of my phone—I know, I know, risky business. I couldn't help it, though, I didn't care if my phone ended up with scratches on the screen; this is how I eliminated awkwardness. The awkwardness? Nothing much, just straddling Jameson whilst I searched for a spoon.

We hadn't really spoken since, only increasing the already big and intoxicating cloud of discomfort. Jameson was in his room, the door left ajar—obviously—preparing for his night shifts. Maybe that's partly the reason why I'm tapping away: fear and anticipation for the worst to happen. I never wanted Jameson to do the night shifts, hell neither did Jameson himself; I'd end up a shaking mess, or worse: I'd be attacked.

I usually brush off my past in being attacked, finding it being a normality for me. However, sometimes that black figure, that haunts me, pops up, I see it in the corner of my eye. It's like a shadow: a dark, cold and taunting shadow. I can blink, and it would be gone. Although it's not exactly causing me post traumatic stress, I'm definitely feeling the long term effects. I'm jittery and, sometimes, I depend on Jameson way too much. But at least it keeps me safe.

That infuriating alarm went off from inside Jameson's room and I jumped, my shaking hands jolted and my phone went flying. My eyes widened, and I was about to slip off my bed and get it when a bang made me fall. Dammit.

"What are you doing on the floor?" I heard Jameson ask as if I was an asylum patient. For a while, I didn't reply, taking deep breaths and monitoring my pulse in order to calm myself. When I was sure I was semi okay, I reached for my phone, then slowly rose from the ground.

"I dropped my phone." I held the device up so that he could see, but he only gave me a confused and concerned look that assured me that he didn't believe what I was saying, or that he still thought I was an asylum patient.

"Something wrong?" I asked, beginning to wonder and worry why Jameson was even in my room in the first place.

Jameson looked just as bemused, despite the glint of amusement in his eyes. "I was about to ask you the same thing." He told me, raising an eyebrow.

I smiled at his minute burst of concern before responding, "I'm just a bit nervous about the shifts." I told him powerlessly, rubbing my clammy hands on the fabric of my leggings.

Jameson gave me a weak smile, "You're not the only one." He reassured me and I sighed in response. This really is torture.

Just as I started fiddling with my fingers, Jameson spoke up again, "That's why I was thinking we should go out," I frowned up at him—go 'out'? "I want to show you something." He told me with a hopeful grin. Yes, a grin. Now, what cold-hearted monster would turn down a hopeful grin from Jameson?

I rose an eyebrow, and tried to play it off, "Where is out?" I asked him, making his grin relax into a smile.

"You'll see." He told me, an odd mixture of smugness and relief in his voice. Maybe he was relieved at the fact that we were now over the awkwardness. Though, I couldn't help but feel that it was a combination of that, and the fact that I had somewhat agreed to go 'out' with him—wherever that may be.

So, ten minutes and a whole marathon down our corridor later, we were outside, steadily making our way over to some sort of garage. Again, another logical thing I had never thought of. Although the sun was still shining on us from where it had settled during sunset, a cool evening breeze brushed through my hair.