Hollows In Time (✔️) | 'Hollows' Book Ⅱ

Chapter Sixty-Nine

^ couldn't be bothered to crop. Here's our angel of death ^

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H o l l o w s   I n
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I wasn't sure what Jameson was thinking in that moment.

I hoped he still loved me.

Because I knew he did.

I've always known.

And I need him to love me. Because no one else will.

He didn't say anything for a few moments.

Then he reached out and brushed away my tears. He did it ever so gently, as if I was the most delicate thing in the world.

He cupped my face. "Talk to me. Tell me what happened."

And I melted into that touch.

I sniffed, closing my eyes and leaning into the warmth of his touch. Jameson seemed to sense that this was comforting me, and so pulled me into him, where he embraced me in a hug.

"Don't shut me out." He said, voice pained as he clutched me to him. I rested my face on his shoulder and held onto him.

"It was at that house. That mansion." I told him. It hurt to unearth the memories that I didn't want to own. But they had become a part of me, ingrained into every second of every other memory that I held.

What I had done had stained my very existence.

Jameson pulled away and guided me backwards, to sit against my bed. I sat facing my cupboard. Jameson sat facing me.

He threaded his fingers through mine and squeezed my hand. With that extra strand of strength, I took a deep breath—and begun.

"I had to get out." I told him. "Every day that I spent there was a danger to my life." Jameson nodded with understanding.

I looked away. "I kept hoping that I'd wake up from a twenty minute nap and be greeted with a force field of Guardians, all ready to save me." I choked on my words as the sobs threatened to spill.

I closed my eyes and felt as delicate tears trailed down my skin. Jameson brushed them away.

"No one came." I said, trying so hard to keep myself intact. I had to keep it together.

"And, one day, it happened. It was finally the day that my life would end." I sighed. "The day that my life was supposed to end." I reiterated.

Jameson's breath hitched, his clutch on my hand becoming loose for a few moments.

"The eighteenth of May this year," I opened my eyes. "That was when I was supposed to die."

Jameson didn't talk. He just listened.

"This guy, all bulk and no care, otherwise known as the author of my abduction. Whenever I heard his name it would chill me to the bone," I shivered then and there.

"He approached me." I must've sounded upset, because Jameson started to run his thumb over the skin of my hand. It was a small comfort, a reassurance that he was still there.

"I knew he was going to kill me." I said, voice shaking. I closed my eyes. "He had...toyed around with me," I gulped. "And he pulled out his gun."

I smiled, though tears still fell from my eyes. "For one slight second, just one, I remembered all that was good," I opened my eyes and looked into Jameson's. His eyes, as always, showed complete and utter compassion and protection for me.