Hollowed (2 page)

This realization burns dimly in the back of my mind. He
'
s going to kill me, and someone will have to tell my parents they
'
ve lost another daughter. That they found my body by the dirty downtown river two blocks from the job they didn
'
t want me to have in the first place.

W
hat about Noah? How will he find out? Who will tell him? What will he say?

I reach for Sherry. By the time my fingers touch hers,
the light has gone out in her eyes
. The sounds and smells of the river and trees and blood fade to
brilliant
white.

The last
sound to reach my ears is
one weak, final heartbeat.

The first time I saw Noah D
'
angelo, he was sitting at a table by himself in the corner of
Howell
'
s family bar
. I slid into a chair across from him, paper and pencil in hand. I never got the hang of memorizing peoples
'
orders like some of the other waitresses did.

"
What
'
ll it be?
"

He looked up, wide-eyed, like I
'
d caught him off-guard. Cute.
Slightly curly dark
hair. Kind of goofy-looking
, but
in an endearing way.

"
Oh. Uh, I don
'
t know. Can I get a beer?
"

I studied his face, trying to place his age.
"
You don
'
t look old enough to order beer.
"

"
You don
'
t look old enough to be serving it.
"
When he grinned, it made the corners of his eyes crinkle.
And i
t was infectious: my mouth twisted up.

"
I
'
m not
for another three years
. Which means if you want a drink, I
'
ll have to get you another server.
"

"
No
, a coke is fine
.
"
He leaned back in his chair.
"
What do you recommend to eat
?
"

I nudged open his menu and pointed.
"
The wings aren
'
t bad. I
'
d stay away from the mini-burgers unless you want to spend the rest of the night on the toilet.
"
Up-selling? Not really my strong suit.

He cracked another grin. Later, when I brought back his food, he
touched my
wrist before I could walk away.
Didn't grab, which would've gotten him hit, but just touched.

"
I didn
'
t catch your name.
"

It was part of the job to be nice to customers. Flirt a little if you wanted to boost your likelihood of a tip. It was easier when
the
customer was kind of charming and not a total douchebag. So I smiled, turned, tapped my name-tag.

"
Briar,
"
he read.
"
That
'
s pretty. So the truth is
,
I
'
m not actually that hungry. Want to split these with me?
"

That was a new one. I'd heard my share of pickup lines from
customers, both male and female, n
ow and again. Usually in a slurred state of drunkenness. Not that it bothered me; being hit on by someone cute and
—
at least outwardly
—
not crazy? Nice.
A step up from being utterly invisible all throughout high school.

But more than that, I liked the sincere way
Noah
smiled. His hopeful expression. The way he tried to pull off smooth and confident even though he was about three seconds from elbowing his soda right off the table. 

"
I
'
m on the clock,
"
I said.

"
When you
'
re done.
"

"
You
'
re gonna sit here for an hour
?
"

"
Sure.
"

I raised an eyebrow. Couldn
'
t help the smile threatening to give away that his offer
sent the warmest fluttery feeling through my chest
.
"
Eat your food before it gets cold, cowboy.
"
I went back to work. An hour later, I hung up my apron and he was still waiting.

~

I remember that first touch so distinctly because of
Noah's
hands. H
ow gentle they were. The way his fingers brushed my wrist, glided down my thumb as I turned back around. Warm and soft.

The hands touching my forehead now feel similar. Warm. But they aren
'
t the same. The voices in the room are completely foreign.

"
We can
'
t leave her here.
"
A soft
male
voice
, e
very word articulate and clear.

"
We should. Look, there
'
s no telling how she
'
ll react when she wakes up.
"
The second voice is harsher, lower. Tinted with the distant remains of an accent. German? I think it
'
s German.

The first voice:
"
All the more reason to stick around.
"

Are these the men who attacked me and Sherry? I don't think so.
I want so badly to roll over, hide my face against the pillow and sleep. Maybe when I wake up, this whole shitty night will have been a nightmare. Sherry will get a kick out of it.

The second I move, the men go silent.

"
Ms Greyson?
"

The softer one. How does he know my name? I force my eyes open. The stucco ceiling comes into blurry focus. My ceiling. I
'
m home? That makes no sense; shouldn
'
t
I be at a hospital?

Bizarre thing number two
: I don
'
t hurt. I
'
m exhausted. I
'
m weak. But not in pain. How long have I been out?

A face leans over me.
Male. In his thirties, maybe, with d
ark, shoulder-length hair
. His
face
is
a little unshaven, and
he has
the bluest eyes I
'
ve ever seen. It startles me into sitting up, nearly slamming my head into his in the process.
If I weren’t one hundred percent sure these guys weren’t the ones who attacked us, I’d be screaming bloody murder right about now.

He draws back smoothly.
"
You
'
re awake.
"

I swallow hard past a dry and cracked throat.
"
I
'
m awake,
"
I confirm.
"
Who
the hell
are you, and why are you in my apartment?
"
It
'
s the nicest I can manage.

The dark-haired man straightens up. I don
'
t like him looming over me like
he is
, but if the alternative is him sitting on my bed, I
'
ll take the looming. He gives me a small smile.

"
My name is Cole
Archer
. This is Oliver
Ulrich
.
"

Cole gestures for his buddy to come forward. Oliver is shorter, but
h
is features are sharper and younger, his
hazel
eyes uncertain. Like
I
'
m
the unwelcome one in
his
home.

"
We found you by the river,
"
Oliver says
.
"
Your ID had your address, so we brought you home.
"

Before I can process that,
Cole
asks,
"
Do you know who
attacked you?
"

I swallow again
and t
ry to keep my voice from sounding so gravelly.
"
I don
'
t know. Where
'
s the girl who was with me? What happened?
"

The two exchange a look. I
hate
that
. M
y parents do it
; h
ave an entire conversation without ever saying a word. And that shared look, the way Cole
'
s lashes lower and Oliver turns to stare at the wall...I know what it means.

Sherry's dead.

And I
'
m going to be sick. Not in that I-feel-nauseous-and-should-sit-down way, either. As in, I haul my ass out of bed and make a mad dash for the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. At least
they
leave me to throw up in peace. It
'
s mostly dry-heaving anyway
.
I don
'
t remember when I last ate.

A good ten minutes pass before Cole knocks on the door.
"
Are you all right?
"

Get out of my house
,
I want to tell him. But
t
hese two guys are the only reason I
'
m still alive.
And they're the only ones who have answers.

"
Where is she?
"
I rasp, batting for the lever to flush the toilet.

Cole cracks open the door
and slips
inside to join me. I don
'
t bother looking at him, but he turns on the sink and a second later, he hands me a cup of water. I slump back against the side of the tub and guzzle it down like I haven
'
t had anything to drink in weeks.

He crouches
in front of
me.
"
We saw your friend only briefly.
O
ur
primary
concern was with you.
"

I close my eyes and tip
my head back.
"
Why?
"

"
Because you were the one still breathing.
"

So
does that mean Sherry
'
s body is still down by the river? The thought makes me nauseous all over again. I shift forward just in case my stomach decides it
'
s not done. This time Cole gently gathers up my hair to keep it out of my face
and off the back of my neck. Som
ething Dad used to do when I had the stomach flu
.
I
t
'
s such a parental
gesture. Even so, I flinch under the touch, swatting his hands away.

No more throwing up, thank God, but I stay there with my head bowed and eyes closed. Everything feels wrong. Aside from the fact I
just saw my best friend murdered and—somehow—
survived it myself, aside from the two strangers in my house and that there are
zero
injuries on my body...I feel
wrong.
Like I
want to claw out of my own skin.

"
Can you te
ll me what happened?
"
Cole asks gently.

"
Shouldn’t you be telling me that?” I spare another drink of water. “
We were walking home
. T
wo guys jumped us.
"