Hollow (Perfect Little Pieces)
Read Hollow (Perfect Little Pieces) Online
Authors: Ava Conway
Tags: #Contemporary, #romance, #coming of age, #New Adult, #Contemporary Romance, #college students, #depression, #grad students
H o l l o w
Book #1 of the
Perfect Little Pieces Series
~By~
Ava Conway
Lucy White had it all—popularity, an acceptance into a pre-vet program at a prestigious college and a hot boyfriend—until one day something happened that made everything change. Battered and broken, she gives up on life, preferring to waste away at Newton Heights Psychiatric Hospital than to feel the guilt and pain. The hollow feeling inside her heart threatens to swallow her whole, until she meets someone who makes her realize how wonderful a life can be.
As Jayden McCray peels back her defenses, the pain returns, and Lucy is forced to deal with the ghosts of her past. Jayden gives her the strength to face her fears, until his inner demons interfere and threaten to send her back to that dark place from which she came…
Hollow
Book #1 of the Perfect Little Pieces Series
Written by: Ava Conway
This e-book is contains excerpts that are works of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © April 2013 by Ava Conway
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Ava Conway. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Printed in the United States of America
Cover Artist: Fantasia Frog Designs
Prologue
Every morning you get up and put on a fake smile...
But what if one morning you didn't? Would anyone notice?
~ Anonymous
I was drowning.
No, not the kind with water. I wasn’t that lucky. At least with water, I’d feel the cool liquid filling my lungs. I’d sense death squeeze the last bit of life-giving air from my chest. The kind of drowning I felt wasn’t quite so physical. At least, not yet.
I was so damn tired. Tired of faking happiness, when all I wanted to do was cry. Tired of making plans for the future, when there was nothing left to live for. For a while, I had fooled them all. As the only child of the famous animal rights lobbyists Marion and Clark White, I had perfect grades, perfect friends, and a perfect life. I was all set to graduate magna cum laude from a prestigious Ivy League College in May. I had a great boyfriend and numerous friends I could count on in a pinch. Just the week before, I had been accepted at a top-rated veterinary school to pursue my dream of working with animals.
Only, I didn’t have any of that. Not anymore.
It was all my fault.
No one had blamed me for what had happened that night, of course. It was an accident, they had said. A horrible, vile accident. My boyfriend’s parents were supportive, as were my family, teachers, and friends. They all applauded the fact that I had survived, when my closest friend and boyfriend didn’t.
How terrible, they had said. Put school on hold until you heal, they had said. Don’t worry, you can pick up where you left off. Everything will be okay.
But it wasn’t okay. It would never be okay again.
I was forced to quit college and dedicate my time to physical therapy. During that long spring and summer, I had gone to numerous doctors, both physical and mental. My parents had doted on me and friends sent flowers. All of them said I was lucky to survive such a terrible car crash, but they were wrong. While my physical body had healed, I was still broken inside. Every day that passed resulted in a few more pieces of my soul slipping away.
By the time the autumn leaves had begun to fall, my parents had started to worry, so I plastered on the happy smile and went through the mindless routine of everyday life. After a month or two, the doctors pronounced me ‘healed’. My friends moved on with their lives, finding jobs, marrying or going to grad school. My parents fell back into the routine where I was treated more like a trophy they had won, not a daughter who was hurting inside. As winter passed into spring, things had come full circle and a sense of normalcy enveloped their lives. Everybody cared about the bright future I had to look forward to when I started school again in the fall. Nobody cared about me.
I turned away from my parents’ backyard pool and picked up the picture I had left on the patio table. It was from a happier time, taken when Kyle and I were at the homecoming football game over a year ago. The camera had captured the moment perfectly. Sunlight reflected off Kyle’s thick, blond hair as I tousled it with my fingers. He was laughing, his blue eyes sparkling. I looked so dark and plain next to his brightness. My mousey locks and muddy eyes could never compare to his angelic face. Through the camera lens, I could see his lust for life, his happiness. In one moment of stupidity, I had snuffed that light out. It would never shine again.
I ran my finger over his hair one last time as tears filled my eyes. “Oh Kyle. I’m so sorry.” Sorry everything got so messed up at that fraternity party. Sure, we had our differences, but every couple had problems.
Just because we fought didn’t mean I wanted you dead.…
Although if I was brutally honest with myself, I’d have admitted that a small part of me was relieved. All of the fighting was finally over—
No, it wasn’t relief I felt, it couldn’t be. What kind of person felt relieved over a loved one’s death? Murderers and serial killers felt relief. Not college students with straight A’s and bright futures. Not me.
But I
did
feel relief. Relief that our on-again, off-again relationship had finally run its course. Kyle wouldn’t find me this time. He wouldn’t suck me back into his reckless lifestyle with those beautiful blue eyes and full lips.
I was such a terrible person. I should’ve been the one to die that night. Not him. Not Bethany.
I didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye.
I wiped my runny nose with the back of my hand and placed the picture next to the empty bottle of Vicodin. My dad had hurt his back a month ago at the Equestrian Club when his favorite horse bucked unexpectedly and tossed him in the dirt. He had said that he hated ‘those damn pills’ because they made him feel all dopey and hollow inside. When he said those words, I had thought how nice it would be to feel something—anything—besides the oppressive guilt and pain in my chest.
It won’t be long now.
A thick fog crept into my brain, making it difficult to think.
So damn tired.
Resolution came over me as I turned back toward the pool. A calming presence touched my heart, and for the first time in a long time, I felt almost happy. I imagined Kyle watching me from a distance, waiting for me to join him and Bethany in the great beyond.
Come home, Lucy. Come home.
I looked down at the pool, knowing that if the Vicodin didn’t do the trick, the rippling water certainly would. Between the two, there was no chance of me surviving. Not this time.
I took a deep breath and leaned over the cement edging. The splash my body made as it hit the surface was the last thing I heard.
Cool water surrounded me as I started to sink. The weights I had tied around my ankles were pulling me deeper, deeper…
Suddenly I saw movement along the side of the pool above my head.
My parents.
When the hell did they get home? They were supposed to be out antiquing with the Andersons. They’d try to save me of course. I could almost hear my mother shouting to my father in that nasally, Long Island accent of hers.
No matter. They were too late. I could already feel the blackness coming for me. It hovered along the edge of my consciousness, waiting. I opened my arms as if I was greeting a lover.
Finally, I’ll be at peace…
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.