Silent Screams (Hollow #1)

CHAPTER 33

Over Two Years Ago . . .

Time stands still when you’re miserable.

It doesn’t accelerate the way you wish it would, doesn’t fast forward. You’re stuck in this perpetual hell of flames pushing everyone away.

My worst fears have come true.

Harv and I have a new mundane routine. I don’t know how to cope with it. I keep telling myself acceptance is key, yet I’m grieving our old life with the million possibilities.

It’s harder than we thought it would be. Harvey’s frustrated during PT; sometimes he moves forward, and sometimes he takes ten steps back.

Then we’re back to square one.

Where he lives in a constant state of depression and ignores me.

On days where he makes a breakthrough—no matter how small—I’m practically jumping for joy for him, cheering him on. So are his parents and Hen.

The one thing that remains the same? We still play video games together. Except there’s no laughter, no silly remarks or flirtatious fun. We’re both silent.

Does he, too, ask himself how we got here?

Gia and my dad are my rocks. Though Gia’s been busy with her baby girl while some days it feels like I might as well plan my own funeral.

I’m happy for her. Her good news keeps me distracted. I need some good and some positive and some laughter and smiles.

Little milestones accomplished by Athena make me happy.

I won’t even get started on how bleak life would be without Henrik too.

I can tell Gia wants to help us. It’s obvious we’re struggling, pushing everything under the rug. What good are support groups for patients like Harv if he won’t agree to go to them? He even stopped private counseling and refused to do couples therapy in the first place.

I knew our life would change, that it’d never be the same. But we can adapt; we can make it a beautiful one.

We’re just both too stuck in the past to accept the present and build a better future.

I want to help him, but he refuses.

He doesn’t want help to bathe or dress, which is a blessing as it pushes him to use his muscles. Either Hen, his dad, or his nurse watch over him in case.

It’s great that he can use his hands, his arms, his torso.

Still, I feel strange about a woman watching him bathe. It holds no sexual meaning, yet it’s as if he pushed me out of his bedroom first and then his bathroom.

What’s next, his heart? His life?

I wish he’d let it out. Scream, yell, throw something— anything is better than this.

I’m also thankful for my full-time job. Even more so for its flexibility to work from home should I wish. While I hate leaving Harv, some days I need it—distance from this melancholy.

Because he’s good at hiding it. He smiles and laughs with his parents. The only people who truly see the change are Hen and me. His friends come over sometimes, but it’s not the same. He can’t pull crazy stunts with them the way he used to.

I put away my mindless thoughts, trying to focus on the book in my lap, when there’s a knock at my door.

“Come in.” I close the book.

“What’s up, Gemma?” Henrik walks in and closes the door behind him. “I’m planning a party for Harv tomorrow. I think he needs it, you know?”

“I don’t know... Why don’t we ask him?”

He sighs, rubbing his hand down his face. He’s had to grow up in the past six months since the accident, with taking on Harvey’s job as well as his own in the family business—all while finishing college. Harvey isn’t ready to go back to work, and he shouldn’t have to worry about that for now.

“Let’s wing it.”

I stare ahead, pondering his idea. “If he snaps, it’s on you.”

I should’ve known others could bring out his pretty smile and gorgeous dimples. I should’ve known he’d pretend and tuck away the darkness overshadowing his face daily.

I watch Harv from my corner as he drinks a beer. Technically, you shouldn’t mix drugs and alcohol, but a drink or two is usually fine to consume.

“Why’re you hiding?” Gia sits next to me. She pats my bare leg and sips on her virgin wine while I’ve already tossed back two beers. She was excited to have a night out for the first time since having a baby.

I mindlessly rip off the paper on the beer bottle, needing something to take my mind off the girls surrounding Harvey. I rub my hands up and down my arms, feeling a chill that has nothing to do with the room temperature. In my black camisole and leather skirt, it doesn’t help.

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are. He’s your boyfriend; you should go to him. Oh my God, does that girl not learn? She’s all over him... Gemma do something!”

I chuckle, and Gia’s eyes grow wide and suspicious.

What good would it do for me to march there and stake my claim? He wants nothing to do with me.

“Thanks for coming,” I tell her instead. It was nice of Hen to invite her and James. Harvey’s friends were chill, but we weren’t that close.

Eventually, the party moves outside to the backyard. I’m wearing a winter coat by now, and it’s so nice that we have ramps all around the house to make it easy for Harvey to move around freely. Even if he never hangs out in the yard.

People are sitting on the deck, passing joints, when I notice Henrik hand a roll to his brother. I stand up quickly, apologizing to James for interrupting him while he talks about his work.

“Hen, what’re you doing?” I ask once I reach him. Harvey’s brow shoots up, and I eye the joint like it physically repulses me. I silently beg Harv not to do this. His injuries are too new; just because he’s been free of complications doesn’t mean he has to tempt the respiratory card anytime soon.

Alcohol and weed. I wish he’d stick to one.

I don’t care if I’m being paranoid and that weed could do him some good—a part of me is worried about him mixing drugs with his meds.

“Relax, Gemma. He’s been a good boy. He deserves to have some fun.”

“He drank two beers. I think that’s enough.” I look down to Harv, whose jaw is locked tight. He cocks his head to the side, taking the now-lit joint to his lips.

Henrik gives us a minute alone, and I wish I wasn’t this type of girlfriend. The one who’s neck-deep buried in fear, unable to appreciate life’s most precious moments.

“Sit on me.” Harvey pats his lap, and I don’t hesitate for a second, finding comfort being in his arms again. We barely exchange words during the week except for the necessary.

He tilts my head up with his cold hand, and I take a drag, wishing to inhale the poison for him.

When he takes the joint back, my face finds comfort in the crook of his neck. His arm rubs my back while I listen to him talk to his friends. His coat is zipped halfway, so I slip my hand beneath it, allowing the beating of his heart to bring a calmness to me.

This might not happen again soon, so I better goddamn enjoy the closeness.

Once everyone leaves for the night, Gia, James, and Henrik help us clean the house. I’m getting rid of the red cups in the living room when I hear Harvey raise his voice.

“What the fuck is her bike doing in the backyard, Hen?”

“Calm down... it’s not like she’ll be riding tonight. Besides how do you know it was me—”

I drop the garbage bag in my hand, pacing around the house to reach the boys.

“Tonight?” Harvey scoffs. “She won’t be riding—ever. And of course it’s fucking you—she’d never do this to me!”

“Harv . . . that’s not up to you, man . . .”

The next thing I know, there’s a loud thud—his bedroom door—and I make my way to his room. I knock, then I let myself in. After closing the door, I walk to his bed, and his wheels come to a stop in front of me.

“Gemma, promise me, please . ”

I swallow. “I won’t go on it. I’ll take it to a garage or something in the spring.”

“You don’t get it.” His expression turns deadly serious as he grabs my hands, forcing me to give him every ounce of my attention.

“Gemma, babe, I swear I’d fucking kneel if I could. I’m begging you ... ”

“I promise, Harvey. I won’t ride again—”

“Promise me.”

“I promise. Shhh. You don’t need to worry. It’s me and you—always. But you need to promise me something too.”

He nods, his jaw ticking as he waits for me to speak up. I take a deep breath. “You need to promise me you won’t keep shutting me out.”

His thumb touches my bottom lip, and I wonder if this is my Harvey coming back to me, or the result of drugs.

“I promise, sweetheart.”

“Just hold on a second. I’ll be back.” I leave his room to tell Gia and James to go home to their daughter. I thank them before they leave, noticing that Hen must’ve left after the argument.

Not long after, as I stand in Harvey’s room, an undeniable hunger crosses his eyes. He stares at my leather skirt in yearning, reaching his hand out for me to grab.

“Harv,” I whisper, knowing he’s probably only looking at me this way because he’s high.

“Don’t talk.” He shakes his head. “Don’t stop this; just don’t say anything.” I nod, clearing my throat, hoping he wants me as much as I want him. “Your skirt—take it off.”

I do so, slowly, letting the leather pool at my ankles.

He stops me as I’m about to remove my cami and tells me, “Not too fast.”

I end up kneeling in front of him, my eyes staring up, no doubt showering him with lust and pleadings of their own .

He covers his mouth with one hand, the other tightening around the armrest of his chair.

I crawl to his lap and straddle him, my hands weaving through a heap of blond hair. I kiss him, moaning when his hand reaches for my pierced nipple inside my bra. His eyes are on absolute fire when he pulls back and glances at my lips.

When we kiss again, the past months blur in my memory, as if the mere touch of his lips is enough to perfectly mend the cracks of my wounded heart.

I’m loving the grunt he releases in my mouth. The sound, music to my ears.

He wants me.

I go at his pace, desperate to let him set something he’s comfortable with.

Why couldn’t he kiss me before? Why now? What happens tomorrow when the drugs wear off?

“I missed this—I missed you .”

I repeat his words over and over until they’re ingrained in steel inside my head.

“There’s no reason to miss this, Harvey.” I clear my throat. “You can have this; you can have me any time you want. In any way.”

He nods as I massage his head, wishing for my message to sink in. For him to remember this moment tomorrow.

“I love you, Harv.”

“I love you too.” This time when his lips find mine, he removes my cami and pulls off my bra. A shiver runs through me when he kneads my tits and traces my collarbone with his thumb.

“You’re so fucking hot, babe.”

I lean in and whisper in his ear, “So are you. You look so fuckable. I can’t even tell you how much.” I bite on his earlobe and tug on his hair, earning a low moan out of him .

He stills when my fingers reach for his jeans. “We’ll just see what feels good.” I whisper, hoping to relieve the tension.

He nods, so I unzip him and reach my hand inside his jeans, touching his cock. He skips boxers; it makes things easier in the restroom. I take my time, stroking him for a while until I notice him gritting his jaw.

“Stop—it’s not working.”

I pull back, giving him a second, knowing his lack of erection will wound him.

“Alright. Let’s—”

“No. You don’t get it . I’m so fucking horny in here”—he shoves his finger against his temple—“but my dick won’t fucking get hard.”

“Look at me.” I grab his neck with my hands. “We’ll relearn each other’s bodies. For now, we focus on what feels nice, and kissing and touching. What do you say?”

I know he’s done for the night; whatever progress we made is well and gone. But I need him to know for the future that there’s so much to explore besides sex.

“This sucks.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head, and by God, do I feel for him. I wish every day that I could suffer his pain for him. “You gotta be fucking kidding me !”

Right when I’m about to ask what’s wrong, I notice a darker spot on his jeans. I turn away when he opens his eyes, pretending I don’t see, saving his pride.

“Leave, Gemma. Now!”

He finally breaks when I close the door behind me. I hear something being tossed and thrown again the wall.

I don’t stop him.

He needs this: to break before he can heal and accept this new life so he can be happy. I look up, holding back the tears as I hear a scream coming out of him, one powerful enough to reopen the fissures of my heart .

I should’ve reminded him to go pee before fooling around. He drank, he smoked, he hadn’t relieved himself in a while.

I’m so stupid. This could’ve been prevented.

The next day he avoids me despite my efforts. The only reason we talk during the week is because his nurse is here.

Maybe he meant his promise of not shutting me out. But he never delivers upon it since there are no more talks about our future, no more shared dreams, no more kisses, no more sex.

I persist.

I try to steal touches and kisses, begging him to go slow—we don’t need to have penetrative sex. I only want to make him feel good, yet all conversations lead to him being angrier, more distant with me.

As if he prays I’ll leave him. As if he believes I’ll be better off without him.

But I’ll never leave him.

Ever.