Hollow (Perfect Little Pieces)

chapter One



Six Months Later





I snorted with disgust as the hospital staff marched into the room. Patients, like good worker bees, moved to the metal folding chairs forming a circle in the center of the tan carpet. I tightened my arms around my legs and refused to move. If those knuckleheads thought I was going to participate in this madness, they had another thing coming.

Perhaps if I ignored them, they’d leave me alone with my pain. My position—a small bench in front of a windowsill—was in the corner of the common room and far away from the commotion. Maybe I could blend in with the paisley wallpaper and avoid all of this torment.

I turned away from the gathering crowd and glanced at the large, sterile clock on the wall. Two o’clock. I still had a good two hours before the staff came in with the afternoon medicine. Two more hours of gut-wrenching guilt before the little blue pills took it all away and left me blissfully hollow inside.

“We have something new for our Rec Therapy session today,” the head doctor said with obvious excitement. She clutched a clipboard to her chest as she paced in front of the small crowd of young people. Every part of her was purple, from the pantsuit, to the nails, to the dark smudge above her eyes. Even the tie holding her bleach-blonde hair in a bun was made of purple lace. While the color worked for some, it didn’t for her. Thanks to her small, pear-shaped body, the doctor looked more eggplant than human.

“As you know, we have received special funding to work with a group of volunteers…”

She droned on about the hospital’s good fortune and the kindness of others. I rolled my eyes. To keep me out of the headlines, my parents had donated a great sum of money to the Newton Heights Psychiatric Hospital in exchange for them not speaking with the press. The hospital insisted that they’d never do such a thing, even without the money, but my parents didn’t want to take any chances. After my three suicide attempts in the past six months, they were tired of being in the public eye. The sooner I got out of the papers, the sooner they could go back to their cocktail parties and Sunday bunches. With a little luck, I’d become nothing more than a disappointing memory, a blemish on their otherwise perfect life.

Evidently the staff had decided to use my parents’ ‘donation’ for some new form of patient-torture.

“Care to join us, Ms. White?”

I looked up from my perch by the window and met the head doctor’s brilliant smile. Such perfect teeth. How could she be so damn happy in such a depressing place?

Useless, all of it. I had only been in the hospital for a few days, but was already sick of this place. The poor woman had no idea how much this institution was a farce. She was just like my parents, covering herself in the latest fad to mask the fact she had no substance. The doctor had probably worked her entire life to become head shrink at this hospital, and for what? So she could walk around in a neatly-pressed pantsuit and wave a clipboard at a bunch of people half her age? I, like the rest of the teens and twenty-somethings at Newton Heights, was an embarrassment. If society could stuff all of us with our files in the records room down the hall, they would. No one wanted to deal with us, not even Dr. Fancy-Pantsuit. We were the rejects of society. The unwanted, unloved.

An infusion of money and some trendy program wasn’t going to change that. Nothing would. I frowned and turned back to my window without answering.

The doctor sighed and continued on with her speech. A few late stragglers tumbled into the room. One of them, a big, burly man with shaggy hair and golden eyes, stopped and stared at me. There was a wildness in his gaze that made me a little edgy, like he was more animal than human. Something wasn’t quite right with that one, more so than the normal craziness I saw around this place. It gave me the creeps.

He nodded to me and licked his lips. Uneasiness crawled over my skin as another patient nudged him and he turned away. I tightened my knees against my chest as a shiver rolled down my spine. Whoever that patient was, I vowed to stay far away from him. In fact, it was better to stay far away from everyone in this place. Hopelessness and despair permeated everything here. The patients wore it on their faces. The staff carried it in the slump of their shoulders. It was damn depressing.

F*ck it. It was pointless to think about. For the time being at least, this hell was my home. I let out a long breath and scanned the small courtyard behind the building through the window. Workers rushed about, busy pruning the bushes and flowers in preparation for winter a few, short weeks away. Just beyond the courtyard sat a large, wire fence. The fence was tall but climbable, if one had enough motivation. It was the first thing I had noticed when I arrived on the premises. It made me feel like a rat in a cage.

Over the fence sprawled the Virginia hills that overlooked the city of Greendale. My new home. Far enough away from Washington, but close enough to my parents’ summer house so that they could visit. When I had first arrived, the hills were crawling with reporters, looking to get a story for their papers. With parents so active in politics, my life was constantly under the microscope, and being checked into a psychiatric hospital was front-page news. After a while, the reporters finally realized that they weren’t going to get a story and dispersed. All but a few die-hards remained.

What would it be like to wander out over those hills? Tears filled my eyes as I stared at the bright green grass on the landscape. To be free of the reporters, my parents, my pain…

A loud bark disrupted my thoughts. I jerked back from the window and scanned the room. Who the hell brought dogs in here?

I blinked at the large golden retrievers as they moved about the circle of folding chairs. There were five of them. Each wore a small, blue cape with the words “White’s Howlistic Healers” on it.

I bit back a string of curses. Damn you, mother. Why does everything have to be a political game? I could almost see the headlines now: “White’s Dog-Healing Charity Rescues Daughter.” My parents would use the free press to gain traction for their latest cause—giving unloved animals to unloved humans so that they can be pathetic together. Having one of those dingy creatures heal their own daughter would be the perfect publicity. Did my parents have no shame?

I tightened my arms around my knees and leaned against the window. Perhaps if I pressed hard enough against the glass, I could push my body through and escape this terrible nightmare.

“Lucy, honey.”

I looked up to see the doctor sitting on the small window-side bench by my feet.

“Why don’t you join us?”

Maybe when hell freezes over. I turned back to the window and wondered if the doctor knew her institution was being used by my parents in a political power-play on Capitol Hill. Probably not. My mother was charismatic and persuasive. The doctor probably thought the gift was given out of the goodness of my parents’ hearts.

I knew better. Everything my parents did had a political motive—especially my mother. Every club they belonged to, every friend they made, had a hidden purpose. Now they were using my presence at this hospital to serve one of their agendas. It was disgusting.

The doctor placed her clipboard on her lap and sighed. “Every day you show up to your required therapy sessions—group, recreational, even the one-on-one—yet every day you refuse to participate.”

I pulled my knees closer to my chest. Like I had a choice. I was forced to go to all of those therapy sessions. It was part of my new treatment program and for every session I attended, I got points toward rewards like going into the courtyard or getting a coffee from the visitor café downstairs.

They could force my attendance, but they couldn’t make me participate.

“You want to reach out, I can see that.” The doctor placed her palm on my fingers. It felt like ice. I jerked away at the intimate contact, but the chill had already infected my bloodstream and was working its way to my chest.

“I wish you’d speak to me. Just once.”

I closed my eyes as the doctor’s chill sliced through my chest and turned into a hollow ache. The doctor didn’t care about me, not really. To her, I was just a job. She could go home at five o’clock and leave this dreadful place. I was stuck here for at least the next few months, quite possibly the rest of my life.

“You can trust me, Lucy. I’m your friend. I want to help.”

Friends? Just like Bethany and Kyle were my friends? No, having friends only brought pain. It was much safer not to touch or talk, to be an isolated island of strength.

“Come on. The dogs are beautiful.” The doctor smiled at the crowd on the other side of the room. “They’re so soft, too. Why don’t we go over and touch one of them?”

Hell no. Those dogs were sponsored by my parents. They were a painful reminder of how far I had fallen from their expectations, of the failure I had become. I glanced at the group and saw the big burly patient watching me with open interest. He nodded and offered a half-smile that made him look even creepier.

I jerked my head back to the doctor and shook my head. If she thought I was leaving this bench, then she was crazier than all of the patients at Newton Heights put together.

“Okay,” the doctor said after a moment. “I understand.”

Did she? I doubted that. Crowds always reminded me of what happened that night at the fraternity party, so I avoided them whenever I could. Even being in a small group like this made it difficult to keep the ghosts away.

We were at a party. Kyle and I had gotten into a fight…

A chilling emptiness squeezed my chest, making it a little difficult to breathe. Scenes from the accident flashed through my mind. One minute we were all talking. Kyle had tried to apologize for our latest fight, but I refused to listen. He was putting his hand on my knee and then…oh God, the blood.

I blinked back tears and tried to fight the memories, shoving them back into the black hole from which they came. Blood, so much blood.

“We’ll be meeting with the dogs for the next few weeks. Maybe we can work our way up to petting one of them before they’re gone.”

Not likely. The tightening in my chest increased. It was as if icy claws were squeezing the life from my lungs. I glanced at the clock once more. Still another ninety minutes until pill time. Just my luck.

“Dr. Polanski?” A male staff member approached, his brow creasing in worry. He wore a similar uniform to the doctor.

“Yes, Elias?”

“There is an issue with one of the patients…”

“Who?”

“Mr. Martinez. He’s being confrontational again and—you better come look…”

Dr. Polanski closed her eyes, and I was drawn to the eye shadow collecting in the creases of her eyelids. The long, purple lines made her look ancient and tired. When the doctor opened her lids again, the sparkle in her gaze had gone.

“We’ll continue this later, okay?” The doctor patted my knee and headed for the small crowd at the far end of the room. “Nesto, why don’t you come over here and—”

There was some movement within the circle of patients, followed by a crash that made me jump. What happened? There were too many people. I couldn’t see anything.

“Get out of my way.” Dr. Polanski wedged herself into the crowd. The patients immediately parted, revealing two young men staring at each other with hatred in their eyes. The tall, muscular, Latin-looking man threw a punch at an auburn-haired patient. The latter dodged the fist and began circling his opponent.

“Don’t do this, Nesto,” the auburn-haired man said in a thick Irish accent. “You’re better than this.” The Irish patient was thinner and paler than his opponent, but something in his electric-green eyes told me he wasn’t someone to mess with.

“A*shole.” The Latin man spat on the ground. “You know better than to take what is mine.”

“I didn’t take anything.” The auburn-haired man took a step back.

“That’s bullshit, Flynn, and you know it. Everyone here knows you’re a klepto. Unfortunately, you stole from the wrong guy.” He threw a punch. The auburn-haired man dodged and yanked his adversary’s low-hanging ponytail, pulling the long, raven locks from their leather strap. Black strands cascaded down his back, making the Latin man seem like some deadly, exotic animal.

“Stop it this instant.” Dr. Polanski made her way to the pair and ordered her staff to subdue the boys. Elias lunged for the auburn-haired man, but the Irishman jumped up on the chairs and out of reach.

“Nesto, be reasonable. You’re getting us both in trouble.”

“You can’t run from me, McKenna.” Nesto lunged after him, evading another staff member’s grasp. Flynn began climbing over the seats one-by-one to get out of harm’s way.

The two men chased each other around the room, destroying everything in their wake. Wanting in on the action, White’s Howlistic Healers barked and pulled on their leashes.

“Someone get these dogs out of here!” Dr. Polanski shouted as she chased after the boys. The staff scattered, some ushering the volunteers from the room and others charging after the men.

Every muscle in my body froze as the common area erupted into chaos. What the hell was this place, some kind of circus? I pulled my knees closer to my chest and tried to blend into the wallpaper. Everything was happening so fast. I didn’t know where to look, what to do. I felt as if I was watching some horrific movie in slow motion.

A shadow fell over my body. “Come with me, before you get hurt.”

I looked up with wide eyes at the man before me. I had never seen him before, but there was a confidence in his features that was a balm on my frazzled nerves. He was tall, about six feet, with latte-colored hair that hung in soft layers around his face. He looked young enough to be a patient but sane enough to be a staff member. Instinct told me to trust him, but my emotions had steered me wrong before.

I glanced down to look for a hospital badge and got an eyeful of male perfection. A plain, navy polo had been pulled tight against his lean chest. The Howlistic Healer emblem marked his left shoulder. He was too thin to be called muscular, but perfectly-formed nonetheless. Broad shoulders rolled into a ripped chest and flat abs. His skin was pale, except for traces of dark ink that peeked out from underneath the right sleeve of his shirt.

A tattoo. I had known some people at college who had sported tattoos, but none of them interested me as much as this one. I wanted to lift up his shirt and peek at the intricate design, perhaps trace it with my fingers and see where it ended. Did it stop at his shoulder? His chest? His abs?

His grunt of impatience snapped me out of my fantasy. “Come on, beautiful.” He wiggled his fingers, drawing my attention to his outstretched palm. “It’s time to go.”

I looked up and raised my brows in silent question. It had been a long time since I had trusted anyone and, despite my initial reaction, I was hesitant to trust this man now. He worked for Howlistic Healers, after all. My parents owned that organization. Did they own him?

“Don’t worry—you’ll be safe with me.” He smiled, which seemed to light up his entire face. God, the man was gorgeous. He seemed so sure of himself.

Would I really be safe, though? If this guy was working for Howlistic Healers, then he was working for my parents. I had firsthand experience with my mother’s manipulation. I wouldn’t put it past her to put spies in this place to check up on me. One bad headline about my hospital stay and she’d risk losing funding for her Howlistic Healers program. Her influence in Washington would diminish, and then what? Then she might have to face reality and admit to how she f*cked up her daughter.

“For Christ’s sake, McCray, get this Latin reject off me!” Flynn leapt off the chairs and wove around the ping-pong table like a giant, red wolf.

The man before me glanced over his shoulder. “God damn it, Flynn. You certainly know how to put on a show.”

“I swear to God, Jayden, if you help that thieving redneck, I’ll kill you both.” The anger in Latino’s eyes convinced me that he’d make good on his threat.

Jayden turned back to me. “Come on, beautiful—we have to go.”

I didn’t move. I couldn’t. What if he was my mother’s spy? What if my parents were using him to try to manipulate me?

Jayden sighed. “Okay, then. Just remember, you gave me no other choice.” He pinched his lips into a thin line, crouched low and slipped his arms under me. Before I could process what was going on, my body rose up into the air.

On impulse, I grabbed his shoulders and noticed how firm they were. Not an ounce of fat on them. Did he work out? An image of him lifting weights flashed through my mind and caused a tingling in my lower abdomen.

Jayden turned to face the threat. Flynn moved between the small tables and folding chairs with amazing agility for his size. Nesto wasn’t so careful. He shoved tables and chairs aside as he followed in the Irishman’s wake.

“Move out of the way, McCray.” Flynn turned and headed straight for us. I tensed as he closed the distance quickly, waving his arms in the air.

“Why does everything have to be a f*cking show?” Jayden murmured. I made a small, strangled noise and clung to his shoulders as he leapt to the side and hurried through the stunned crowd toward the exit.

The Irishman man sprinted toward where we were standing moments ago. The world seemed to move in slow motion. Patients gasped. Dr. Polanski was closing the distance between her and Flynn, but I knew that she was too far away to reach him in time.

We all watched as the auburn-haired man jumped up onto the bench where I was sitting moments ago. Within seconds, he placed his foot on the windowsill and pushed off, flipping in the air and landing back on the floor a few paces from the wall. It was so graceful and amazing, like an elaborate stunt in the movies. He loped away from the wall and followed in our wake.

The dark-haired man wasn’t so lucky. He was moving too quick, running too hard. He tried to pull back, but it was too late. An ear-piercing crack echoed through the room as Nesto hit the bench full-force. Pieces of wood flew everywhere as he collapsed on the floor.

Elias tackled Flynn to the floor and secured his arms behind his back. Dr. Polanski fell beside Nesto and began shouting orders.

“Harris, Johnson. Get over here and help me.”

Two male staff members rushed over and grabbed the Latin man’s arms. Nesto shoved them away and stood. There was a small scuffle and Nesto’s cry of frustration filled the common area.

“Give him point-five milligrams of Lorazepam…” The doctor shouted at the staff members as they dragged Nesto from the room. The Irishman and Elias followed in their wake.

The crash snapped the other patients out of their spell. Some shouted, others cried. One man crawled under a folding chair while a woman curled herself into a ball and rocked with a far-away stare. The big, burly man stood in the middle of the chaos, snarling and staring at me with those wild eyes as Jayden took me farther and farther away from the chaos.

White’s Howlistic Healers and their volunteers had all vanished—all except for Jayden. He didn’t seem to notice.

I wanted to stay and see what was going to happen to the auburn-haired man and his dark opponent, but my movements were not my own. My rescuer swept me out into the hall, away from the noise and chaos. He moved in the opposite direction from the reception area and visitor center, where the other volunteers were most likely gathering. Instead he moved toward the residence halls. Aseptic walls and shiny metal doors sped past my vision as Jayden took me away from the crowd and closer to…what?

Who was this Jayden guy, and where the hell was he taking me?