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H o l l o w s I n
T I M E
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(This chapter is set the day after the last past chapter, a reminder is below)

29/03/17:

The car jerked to a stop. I flew forward. Then someone grabbed my arm, and pressed a cloth against my mouth.

The world drifted away.

But not before I realised that the Guardian I had met wasn't an official Guardian.

They were playing for the other team.
An attacker.
And I had fallen into the trap.

My love for Jameson had gotten me trapped.

28/03/17
Six months and two days ago

"How are you feeling today?" He asks. No matter how used to this routine I was, I was never any less annoyed by those five words.

I sighed. To be honest, no. No, I'm not okay.

Five days ago, my best friend had been dead for exactly seven months. Missing from my life for over half a year. I could hardly live with myself on all the other days of the year, let alone the twenty-third day of every month. I was dreading my birthday.

Fast forward five days, and it's the twenty-eighth. Of March. Ringing any bells?

My lover, my Guardian, and the killer of my best friend turned nineteen on that date. And I sat at home. And cried.

It all came back to me. I had been good at blocking it all out prior to yesterday. But suddenly it was like the whole world was caving in on me and the only place that I had to escape was in the pit of my garden. But there was no space; that pit was also cramped tight with secrets.

I sighed. "To be honest," my therapist looked up from his notes—something he only did when he was interested in what I was saying.

"No." I finished. He placed his pen in the dip of his book and leaned forward as he frowned. He couldn't lie; he was looking forward to finally getting information out of me. You'll find that therapists tend to be overly expressive—or at least easy to read.

"What's on your mind?" He asked after a while. I had a feeling that he had been choosing the right words in his head.

I looked down. "I'm sick of having to keep secrets." I found myself admitting. Secrets. Nothing else, Sky. Pretend you're secretly dating a gang member or something.

"Your secrets, or someone else's?" He asked. Silence followed as I thought about my answer. Technically, the only reason I'm keeping secrets is to benefit the Academy. Then again, I have kept a massive secret for a year now.

That I love Jameson Fahr.

"Both." Was my response.

More silence followed.

"Would someone be in danger if you told their secrets?" He asked. Told their secrets? My head shot up and I peered at my therapist. He didn't think that I would actually reveal the secrets that I had spent seven long months protecting—did he?

"A lot of people would be in danger." I told him.

Sky, be careful.

But I couldn't. I could slowly feel weight lifting off my shoulders, and I decided then and there that I no longer wanted to carry the heavy bag of secrets.

My therapist cocked his head to the side. It reminded me of how Jameson would always read me. "That must be one big secret that you've got." He acknowledged.

I nodded.

"I can see that you don't want to tell me, but maybe it would be easier to deal with if you told someone else?" He suggested. I stared at him, wide-eyed. "Or, you could write it down." He offered.

I shook my head furiously, "no. I can't do either of those. I can't risk it." I said.

My therapist sighed and leaned back in his chair, his notebook long forgotten. "Sky, you need to do something. You can't carry this weight on your own–" Don't I already know? "–you can't protect everyone." He told me.

I looked at him. Protection was something that was close to me in my life. Jameson had protected me, as my Guardian and as the one who loved me. I had protected the girls as much as possible, and still helped them when I had failed. I had tried to protect Carter from a broken heart—but his heart ended up dying without my help.

"I can't protect anyone." I told him quietly. It was the truth. At the Academy, yes, I was the weak girl who had to have a Guardian follow her around at all time. But, in some respects, I was also a Guardian. I cared for those that I had grown close to. Did I fail them?

My therapist looked me dead in the eyes. "Do you have a responsibility to protect anyone?" He asked me. I ducked my head.

"No." I responded.

"But you want to protect people."

I nodded. "Those I care about."

"And what about those who you don't care about?" He asked, picking up his pen and clicking it. I watched the movement before I answered.

I shrugged, "unless I feel obliged to, I don't need to protect those I don't care about."

"Define 'obliged to'." He requested. I looked up and raised an eyebrow. I'm guessing he didn't mean a dictionary definition.

"Say if I was, somehow, the reason why someone was in danger.." I started uneasily. I'm treading on rocky ground here; I'm a sentence away from spilling all of the Academy's secrets.

"How would you be the reason that someone is in danger?" He asked, resting his ankle on his left leg.

I suddenly found interest in my fingernails. "I have a lot of people that care about me–" I paused to look up at my therapist. Could I tell him the truth? These meetings are confidential, right? But would he reveal my secrets to the world?

I can't take that risk. I can't put so many people in danger like that.

"–and I didn't send that chain mail three years ago so I'm a pretty unlucky person." My therapist laughed at my joke, seemingly not annoyed that I completely diverted his question.

"Okay," he leaned back in his chair, "the details are vague, but at least they're something." He nodded to himself whilst taking notes.

"You know what they say, little is more." I perked up and my therapist stifled a laugh as he wrote.

"I'm not sure it works that way in therapy." He tried to reason. I leaned back in my chair and observed my surroundings.

"Of course it does; you obviously weren't paying attention—I just told you a lot of crap." My therapist didn't seem to care about, or even pick up on, my choice of language, and instead hummed.

"Perhaps to you. But to everyone else, you're the biggest secret going around—you are a walking secret." He told me whilst still writing, and I laughed.

"'A walking secret'? That's new." I commented, watching as my therapist looked up at me, eyes on my grin, then on my eyes.

My grin faltered. But he didn't notice, his eyes were on mine. When I looked into his eyes, I could pretend that they were anyone's. That they were Jameson's. And that the eyes staring back were his.

I shook my head and stood up hastily. "I'm sorry." I apologised, even though he didn't know what for. Silence followed. Then I realised why—he was reading me. He always was.

"These people that care about you," he started, "there doesn't happen to be one in particular who you reciprocate that care for...does there?"

My heartbeat screeched to a halt.

He had read me so well. Too well. I had told him about the Academy, and now he was asking about someone—Jameson. It could only be Jameson. He was on my mind in the moments beforehand. How can a human mind work so scarily fast?

"Yes." I confirmed, seeing no way out of this mess. But then I found that a million weights were being lifted off my shoulders. "There was someone who I cared about just as much. But it's over now, because there's nothing to reciprocate anymore—he doesn't care anymore." As I said those words, my therapist could have no idea of the internal war going on in my head.

I was still hurt that Jameson had abandoned me in the hospital after that van had ruined our ephemeral moment. And I hadn't heard from him since. Because of that, I believed that he no longer cared about me. But there was always that little voice, telling me to hold onto him because he would always hold onto me.

But what do I believe?

My therapists watch bleeped, and I jumped.

"Well," he declared, "that's the end of our session." He announced.

He stood up, placing his notepad on his desk. Then he turned to face me. "Is there anything you'd like to tell me before you leave?" He asked. I shook my head probably quicker than I should have. I need to get out of here; he's too close to the truth.

"Okay then," he smiled, then gestured to the door, "I'll see you next week."

I stood up hastily, turned around and placing a hand on the doorknob, before his voice interrupted me.

"I suppose, if I'm to keep all your deepest, darkest secrets, that you'll have to know my name." He called, just as I was about to open the door.

I turned around slowly, a small smile on my lips. "I guess so."

He grinned.

"Jace," he paused, and I took the time to see how the name suited him.

"Jace Clarke." It was a nice name—I'll admit. Maybe it'd suit him more if he ditched the shrink outfit and slipped on a leather jacket.

Nonetheless, I smiled, turning slightly so I could reach out towards the door handle. "Okay Jace Jace Clarke, I'll see you next week." I spoke, watching as my therapist broke out into laughter as I made fun of him.

I reached the reception, where I would wait for my mum, hearing the familiar sound of fingers on a keypad. I smiled at the receptionist, but she seemed to be looking past me, to something outside. I turned around and frowned, looking for whatever she was staring at.

"Hey," she called and I turned around. She was talking to me. "you're being picked up again, right?" She asked. I nodded.

"Good. It's getting darker now that it's coming up to winter. And we all know what happens when it gets dark." My eyes shot up to watch her just as she flashed me an odd looking smile.

Suddenly, I was on edge. I did know what happened in the dark. Because I've experienced it at the Academy. And I didn't want to experience it. Ever again.

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GUYS OMG ITS 30/03/17 AND IM WRITING THIS AND AUTOCORRECT JUST HIT ME.

THIS SENTENCE:

"I can't protect anyone." I told him quietly. And it was the truth.

THANKS TO AUTOCORRECT, CAME OUT LIKE THIS:

"I can't protect anyone." I told him quietly. And it was the uterus.

I
CANT
STOP
CRYING

Hi it's 25/10/17 and I'm still crying

Pass me the Kleenex

Okay

If you're confused

I mixed up the past chapters for the sake of the plot

But

This chapter is obviously after the last past chapter

You get that, right?

But, the day that this chapter is set in, is the day before the last past chapter

ie the day before Sky got kidnapped

Get me?

I don't actually know why I did it like this but it all makes sense when you match it up to the present chapters bc god did it take me bare centuries to figure out the order of this book 😭

Also it's just like to make the story better. Uno, flash to the past like WTF 😲
Then I bring y'all back and you're like

Well shit on me
That's what happened the day before

-pls don't shit on me

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Next update: Friyay
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CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN SPOILER:

That's right, we're going to the present.

This chapter is set immediately after chapter forty-five, and doesn't hold back on the humour, the mystery, or the romance.

Wow, you guys are in for a treat.

Especially since I hear a name being called from the depths of a time warp.