Silent Screams (Hollow #1)

CHAPTER 2

Friday morning, I shower and put on the only work suit I own. My dad bought Gia and me each a black, top-quality suit when we graduated from college.

I wear an emerald satin blouse underneath, apply a bit of makeup, and leave my hair down.

I eye my earrings—always two in each ear and my mom’s green emerald, which I wear in the piercing at the top of one ear. I remove one earring on each ear for the sake of the interview. I also take out Mom’s earring. It’s on days like these when I miss her most, when I could do with some motherly love.

She passed away from breast cancer when Gia and I were eleven years old. She underwent a few rounds of chemo before she was gone.

I push these memories aside by the time I walk to the kitchen to grab a quick snack for the road. Laughter in the backyard draws my attention.

It’s Claire.

Her laugh rings through my ears like the sound of an express train. Suddenly, my mouth is dry, and my interview isn’t to blame. I’m staring at Harvey, my Harvey, laughing with her .

The betrayal runs so deep, I look away and back again to ensure I’m not imagining things.

He barely ever smiles at me.

I get closer to the window from the side, hoping to remain hidden, eager to know the reason for his happiness. I spot Claire with her red hair and her happy personality, throwing a snowball at him. He shakes his head. They’re on the special pathway made for him in wintertime so he can seek fresh air whenever he wants.

He's smiling. I can see his dimples from here, and it burns me like a killing curse aimed at my chest.

I don’t want to feel envious of Claire. She’s just doing her job, but I can’t remember the last time I saw so much color in his face.

Pink cheeks. White smile. Perfect dimples.

After checking the time on my phone, I write on our wall board that I’ll be back before the charity event we’re attending tonight.

I grab my stuff and head out with our modified van. Ever since the accident, I hate being late, so I arrive early instead of rushing.

I live in Clarendon Hills, Illinois, a smallish town about thirty minutes away from downtown Chicago.

The drive into Chicago is the perfect mental cleanse to stop me from dwelling on my anxiety and focus my energy on my interview.

I catch a glimpse of my surroundings, a few inches of snow covering the ground. I love this town—the familiarity, the trust between neighbors, the endless outdoor activities. But I always wanted to work in the city. Despite my love of nature, I love exploring cities.

It’s not until I drive through the dirty, wet streets downtown that traffic really picks up. I find parking near the building where I have my interview in thirty minutes .

Parallel parking this van is no easy task.

Since I’m early, I take out my overused, over-read Harry Potter book to waste time. The third in its series. Ever since I was a girl, about nine years old, I’ve been obsessed with Harry Potter. I still am today, which is why I often reread the collection.

As I make my way to the spinning doors of the building, a whiff of cold air wraps around me. Once inside, I’m asked to sign in at the front desk and wait for someone to escort me upstairs.

The young woman who ushers me onto the elevator with her is wearing black pants and a purple dinosaur T-shirt. I feel overdressed.

“Marie! Thanks for bringing her in,” a woman who appears to be in her forties says once we step out of the elevator. She stares at Marie’s outfit, giving it a look up and down. I exhale in relief, knowing it’s not me, it’s her. The older woman is dressed in a business suit as well.

“No probs,” Marie says, then leaves us.

“Hi, Gemma. I’m Katherine. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” I tell her as we shake hands. She walks ahead of me, asking if I had any troubles finding the place, and I answer while gawking at the walls that surround me.

It’s pretty. Too pretty.

Predictable and modern.

White walls, caramel borders, and green plants.

We end up sitting in a massive boardroom. She hands me a glass of water and explains that she’s currently Mr. Dreygon’s executive assistant, but she’ll be leaving her position the week after next. They’re hoping to hire someone to start next Wednesday so they can be trained before she leaves.

“Now, I don’t know if you’ve researched the company, but we often take on contracts in both private and public sectors, and we remain neutral in our reports filled with recommendations to businesses. We also establish step-by-step protocols that should be followed in accordance with all laws. Essentially, we help businesses and government entities develop business plans while minimizing environmental risk. Why don’t you start by telling me a bit about yourself?”

I clear my throat. “I graduated from the University of Chicago with a degree in environmental sciences and a minor in biology.” She nods as I go on to explain my work experience as a research assistant on campus.

I answer her questions thoroughly, and I’m flooded with relief when it’s my turn to ask my own, knowing the interview is reaching its end.

She keeps eyeing the tattoo on my hand—it’s a small, narrow black rose, right at the base of my middle finger—the gesture makes me nervous.

“Okay, look . . . ”

Further panic arises from her words. Is she about to dismiss me right here, right now?

“I think you’re a great candidate, Ms. Ackerman. I think with both your degree and experience you’ll be a great fit with Mr. Dreygon. I’ve interviewed other candidates—usually HR does this—but Mr. Dreygon was adamant that I find his next assistant. I like you. And due to the urgency of this soon-to-be vacancy, I’d like to offer you the job should you want it...”

I stare at her in shock and relief. I want it—badly. But flashbacks of Claire and Harvey playing in the snow makes me hesitate for a few seconds. Then I think of paying off my loan, of getting him a new car, of finally doing something for me.

“Yes . . . absolutely . . . thank you!”

“That’s perfect. I do want you to know the position may require some traveling. It’s fast-paced work, but I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

She’s confirmed what I already know: I’ll be spending a lot less time with Harvey. I vowed to myself after the accident to appreciate every moment because he was here.

And alive .

“We’ll be emailing your offer letter today. Sign it and send it back as soon as possible.”

I nod, and we shake hands.

I have a job, and I start next Wednesday.

It takes me a second to wrap my head around the news as I walk back to the van and call my dad using Bluetooth.

“Gemma, how was your interview?” Gia must’ve told him about it.

“I got the job!”

“Of course you did. Who wouldn’t love you?” I smile at his biased comment. This is why I called him; I need his reassuring words.

“I start Wednesday...” It’s surreal that I got the job on the spot and that I don’t have to wonder about it for the next few days.

“And . . .”

“And, what?”

“You’ll be away from Harvey a lot more. How does it feel?”

I stop at a traffic light, perusing the hectic sea of people that surrounds me. “Let’s leave the questions about feelings to Gia, alright?” She’s the soon-to-be-psychologist, after all.

He sighs, giving a polite order to someone from work in the background.

“I worry about you.”

“What’s to worry about? I’m fine.”

“That’s the problem. Life’s too short to be just fine...”

I drive through traffic letting the insinuation fill the air. Life is short. He’d know. He lost my mom early on in his life. He never remarried but claimed he had an overdose of love expressed by my sister and me.

We talk about the charity event before ending our call as I drive up to my sister’s house to pick up my outfit for the night; she’s got all the dresses .

“I’m super happy for you. You deserve this, Gem,” Gia says as I return her hug.

I lift Athena high in the air and spin her around.

“Gem Gem!” She squeezes her tiny arms around my neck. There are a few moments in life that can truly take your breath away. Having my niece call me by my name and hanging on to me is one of them.

It makes every dark cloud disappear.

We paint with Athena for a bit prior to her falling asleep on a fort of pillows, where Gia and I also lie.

“Did you get to meet him?”

“Who?” I ask, placing one arm behind my head.

“The hot boss.”

I shake my head.

“I can’t believe soon there’ll be another one of her running around,” Gia says as we watch Athena sleeping. “Where does time go?”

She turns to me, her eyes gleaming. With tears? I can’t be sure. “I’m scared.”

I look up at the ceiling, wishing I was looking at stars instead and that the house that enclosed us was instead a dark, noisy, unpredictable forest.

I don’t say anything.

I wait for her to answer her own question. She knows I want to know what she’s scared of. As twins and emotionally close sisters, we’ve learned to master the art of unspoken words.

She releases a deep breath. “I’m scared of losing myself. It’s so hectic sometimes; with one kid, I barely have the chance to see my husband. I worry about finishing my thesis, and I’m scared we’ll lose us. I’m scared I’ll forget me .”

My head twists slightly, and I look straight at her. We’re not identical, but the similarities are there—both with amber hair. My head and jaw are narrow, and I have green eyes, while Gia perfectly carries off rosy cheeks and brown eyes. I’m also taller, but not by much.

I don’t even know what to tell her. Am I the right person to give relationship advice when I can’t even make my boyfriend smile?

I doubt it.

Instead, I take her hand and apply a small amount of pressure to it.

“If you lose yourself, I’ll be there to help find you.”

He looks dashing in a navy suit with a light blue dress shirt underneath. I’m wearing a midnight blue sparkling dress with heels that I borrowed from Gia.

I drive to the event, Harvey at my side and silence reigning in the car.

I know this is one thing that kills him... not being able to drive. It’d cost more money to modify the van for him to drive with hand controls. His mom offered many times to pay for it and although insurance would cover a portion of it, Harv has refused. Pride gets in the way of Harvey’s decisions.

I don’t blame him. His parents helped us a lot financially since insurance covers only so much.

My dad helped too.

And Harv also received multiple donations.

The point is, he can now easily lift himself onto the passenger seat and use the over-the-shoulder method to place his folded wheelchair in the backseat.

Still, it’s not the same for him. He used to love driving.

I want to buy him a modified car, anything but a van, so that he can drive with electronic hand controls.

The freedom that accompanies driving will be good for him .

We finally arrive at the farm lodge where the charity event for spinal cord injury called WheelOn is held.

“I got the job,” I blurt out, staring ahead, anxiously awaiting his reaction.

In my peripheral vision, I can see him face me, but I don’t have the guts to see the betrayal that might be in his eyes, so I avoid his gaze. Instead, I look at the dark night around us.

“Congratulations.” It sounds like he means it. “When do you start?”

“Next Wednesday.”

I finally face him. No dimples. No smile. None for me.

“I’ll text Claire and ask her if she can add a shift each day...”

“I don’t need a babysitter, Gemma.”

“I know. I know .” But just in case. I don’t want him playing video games alone all day. He needs to move and do PT. Stefan believes he can keep progressing, and I believe in him too.

We meet my dad in the parking lot, where he hugs me and shakes Harvey’s hand. We’re walking side by side while Harv takes the ramp before Athena runs to see him.

“Well don’t you look dashing, Dad.” Gia tells him, patting his charcoal wool coat, as I greet her, then my brother-in-law, James. Despite being at a farm lodge, the event is black tie and the venue is decorated in gold and midnight blue, accented with green plants.

I catch up to Harvey once we’re all inside and I’ve removed my coat. He’s talking with Athena about what Santa brought her for Christmas this year. It’s adorable seeing her think her gifts through as she uses each finger as reference.

“Ummm... doll... because me nice.” She beams at him, and he laughs, patting her head. The sound shoots both to my groin and my heart. Like an arrow directed straight at me.

I want this with him. I want kids with him. I want it all.

The future, the fights, the fire-hot passion we used to have until the accident two and a half years ago .

How can I, though, when he refuses to touch me? To love me?

He stares at me for a few seconds while my niece asks him what he got for Christmas. She has to repeat her question again since he’s busy staring at me.

“Mommy and daddy ’old hands. You ’old hands?” Athena looks between us with eager, curious brown eyes.

“We do. Like this.” He takes my hand in his, and the warmth hits me as if I’m being transported to a summer beach house.

He’s lying. We never hold hands anymore.

Harvey always loved to take walks at night. He was a night owl, my artist. He’d hold me from behind, and we’d stroll around town like that when we weren’t walking with locked hands.

Two young adults deeply in love. Blissfully ignorant of the storm ahead.

I squeeze his hand and nearly combust when his thumb grazes mine.

“There you are,” my sister tells Athena while James and Harv start talking about a video game they play against each other. “Wow, you play silly games while I can barely brush my teeth!” Gia chips in.

I tune them out—too busy appreciating the touch of Harvey’s left hand that’s still wrapped in mine.

I feel elevated. Liberated. Like I’ve been dusted with magic.

“Gem, I’m talking to you. You okay?”

I return from my own world, my head snapping toward her fast, when I hear Harvey chuckle. He kisses my hand.

“Can’t blame her if I’m distracting, now can you, Gia?” he winks.

Winks.

And just like that, the old Harvey comes back. Why now? Is it my new job that brought this on?

I want to freeze this moment and never let it go. James takes a jab at us, about needing a room, yet all I can do is stare at the beautiful blond man next to me.

Is this because of Claire?

“Gia told me you got a job in your field. That’s amazing. Congrats,” James tells me.

I thank James as I feel the drop of Harvey’s hand before my dad approaches us with Mr. and Mrs. Beckon, an elderly couple that used to babysit my sister and me.

“Gemma... Harvey, it’s so good to see both of you looking beautiful in your Sunday suits,” Mrs. Beckon says, palming my hand, a gentle smile across her lips.

I greet them both.

She’s being modest. What I’m wearing isn’t Sunday church attire. The dress itself is short, a sort of personal slap to Harv for rejecting me and getting closer to Claire in the meantime.

“She sure is beautiful, isn’t she?” Harvey looks up at me, then smiles at Mrs. Beckon.

What is his deal? Why is he doing this?

We talk about the weather, the couple expertly avoiding any topic of Harvey’s improvement, before I excuse myself to the restroom.

When I’m done and washing my hands, Gia comes in with Athena in her arms and a beer in her hand.

“Drink up, buttercup.” She hands the bottle to me. I take the cold beer and place it on the countertop. “Gemma, what’s going on?”

I shrug. “Nothing. I’m driving, can’t drink.” I know that’s not what she’s asking, but I don’t have it in me to confide in her about this.

Her lip twitches, a tic she does whenever she disagrees but chooses to bite her tongue.

I open the restroom door to allow her to leave first. In the hallway, I find Harv waiting for me, so I wave my sister to go back to the main room .

If he’s going to be nice and notice I’m alive, I should enjoy it.

He looks like he’s about to say something, but his parents appear. His father, Ian, greets him, then kisses my cheeks. His mother, Helen, does the same.

“Henrik is here too,” she says quietly. I love his mom. We both speak a language most people don’t understand.

That less is more.

That words are so powerful—only meaningful ones should be used.

“Oh Harv, Harv. Miss me?” Henrik punches his brother in the arm. “My, my Gemma... every day I wish I’d met you first.”

I laugh at Hen’s useless attempt to flirt, and Ian jokingly warns his boys not to fight over a woman, no matter how beautiful she might be. He winks, and he and Helen leave us to go mingle.

“Gem, seriously, you look amazing, pretty lady.” Henrik says, winking at his brother.

I stare at my boyfriend, hoping to get the smallest reaction out of him.

Does he love me enough to be a bit jealous?

Harvey’s eyes dart over to me. Meanwhile, Henrik curses when he sees a girl and tells us it’s time to go before he’s a dead man. Harv gives him a stern look, but we don’t bother asking as we watch him stride away.

Hen—always up to no good with the ladies. I smile.

When we join the party in the main room, I watch Harvey use his charm to lure people in. He was always a flirt, good with crowds. It leaves a bitter sadness inside of me, wishing I could bring back this side of him permanently.

I take my phone from my purse; my heart beats a little faster knowing his charming side is on borrowed time.

My core constricts at the thought that soon the light from his eyes will go out.

At eleven thirty, we say goodbye to our respective families, and Gia heads out at the same time with a sleeping Athena in James’s arms.

As soon as we’re seated in the van, the silence engulfs us.

Silly me for believing in more. For hoping. For planning our future.

I don’t know how much more I can handle. These disappointments are piling up, and they make me wonder if I’ll ever be enough for him.

When we arrive in our driveway, I dare to ask him. “What was that all about?”

I like being in the car with him. It’s the one place where I don’t have to look down at him. I hope picking on him here will build his confidence and that he’ll open up.

His hand is tracing his chin. Still, he refuses to answer me.

My patience is running thin, dissipating as the days pass by, all merely blending into a sea of blandness.

“Harvey . . .”

I’m talking to you. Why do you do this to me?

I want to scream like a banshee. It hurts even more to get a taste of what could be only to have it slip away from me.

“What?”

I take a deep breath. “What was that about? Don’t ignore me,” I whisper and move forward, closer to him in his seat. Our faces are so close, my lips are tingling, coaxing me to press against his. I try to remember how they felt, but it’s been too long.

My breathing accelerates; my heart races rapidly against my chest. I lean even closer, as if tempting my luck. I can feel his breath shadowing my own.

“What do you want me to say, Gemma?”

I use reverse psychology. “Why say all those things in there if you don’t mean them?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Who says I don’t mean it? Everyone knows you’re beautiful. ”

I close my eyes, then open them and hold his stare. Maybe talking won’t do much. Maybe it’s a waste of time. Maybe it’s time we touch, feel .

I bring my lips near his. “You look so hot in your suit.”

When I press my lips over his, the warmth feels like silk. My body is waking up, the simple touch stirring every nerve on its way down to my pussy.

My fingers weave through his hair like I used to. I want his hands on me, all over my body. I want him to lose control, to let the old Harvey out. But that’s pushing limits. That’s asking for more than he can probably give me right now.

I lower my hands and tightly hold on to his dress shirt, as our tongues finally meet.

It feels so good.

Until he’s pulling away, and I want to stop him as defeat courses my veins.

“Harv . . . why do you keep stopping? Talk to me . . .”

He releases a shaky breath and opens the car door. Then he gently pushes me back so he can take his chair from the backseat and unfold it on the ground next to the car before swiftly adding the wheels and the seat cushion.

He’s going to leave the car. He’ll ignore me. Again.

I say his name, in the smallest whisper, as my fingers touch my lips. The tip of my tongue feels like it went through six levels of fire.

“Let it go,” he says simply, and he’s out.

I’m breaking.

I’m breaking, and I don’t have a way out.

I’m trapped in my own graveyard, my happiness buried so low that a shovel couldn’t locate it. And every blow I get from him pushes me further down from who I was and who I want to be.

My heart, which was full of hope a mere minute ago, is now shriveled inside me, and a painful numbness slices through me .

This is it—the last straw.

I don’t wait for him this time. I close the door behind me and lock the car when I know he’s done taking out his stuff. Then I stomp toward our house, leaving the door open for him. I throw my keys on the counter, remove my coat and heels, and head to my room.

I don’t even take off my makeup. I don’t clean myself.

When your life is crumbling and in shambles, the best way out is sleep.

I throw the dress on the floor, remove my bra, and put on a long T-shirt of Harvey’s. Sometimes, I spray a bit of his cologne on it. That way it’s almost as if he’s next to me, like he’s got me.

Except he doesn’t.

I don’t check on him. I get in bed and curl up in a fetal position, holding my arms tightly around myself while I enter a world where Harvey actually likes me.

I dream of darkness and shadows sucking the life out of me. It feels imminent—my death—ultimate and inevitable.

I wake in the middle of the night vaguely remembering those weird dreams.

But I know.

I know what they represent... my inner state of depression, whereby death represents the bleak hole my life has turned into along with the dimming of my own soul.

It all means one thing—I’m drowning in this chaos.