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H o l l o w s   I n
T    I    M    E
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He pulled out his key. A key to a world I just didn't want to see. We were armed with nurses, doctors and several Guardians too. This was big, apparently.

He twisted the key and the door unlocked. I held my breath. What would it look like now? It's the same room. According to Jameson's pointless small talk on the way down here, he never changed rooms, but he was also always on field duties, out exploring a world that I didn't even know existed anymore. And I thought I was selfish. So according to a not so trustworthy source, Jameson hasn't stepped through this doorway in just over three months—but it's been cleaned, apparently.

He pushed the door open. We all stood there. I think Jameson was just testing the waters, wanting to see my response. Our cavalry was stuck behind me.

From the hallway, I could only see my king-sized bed, a window next to said bed, and a pile of clothes sat at the foot at it. I could only assume they were dirty, or something, because I didn't leave the room like this.

Jameson quickly entered the room, as if noticing the clothes at the same time as me, and briskly scooped up the clothes into his hands and placed them into a laundry basket by the door. I stepped closer and managed to view more of my room. My window seat, my vanity, the door to my suite. I couldn't take it. I thought I could. I just wanted to curl up in my bed and wake up with no problems at all, like this had all been just a nightmare. A horrible, horrible nightmare.

"Sky." He said my name. And when I looked up at him, I couldn't hate him. Standing in front of the window, glowing with the pink light of dawn. I couldn't hate him, even when I do hate him. He walked closer to me, flicking the light on and looking down at my hands. Would he take one? Lead me into the room? But he didn't.

I moved into the room, through the doorway. Maybe I felt like as soon as I stepped through the doorway, I'd be fifteen and fearless again. Unbroken. Undamaged. For one, I wasn't fifteen. I was sixteen. Then I paused. How long had I been gone?

"What month is it?" I asked in a small voice. "And year." I added in after.

"September, of 2017." Jameson told me. My heart stopped. It couldn't be. How could it be?

"I'm seventeen." I whispered, collapsing on my bed, but not taking note of the relief it brought to my legs as I pondered on what I had just found out. I missed my seventeenth birthday. I'm seventeen.

"Could you excuse us for a few minutes? Just wait in my room." Jameson guided our visitors over to his room, whilst the Guardians resided outside our room, standing in the dorm hallway. When everyone was out of earshot, Jameson knelt down in front of me.

"Sky," he began. I stared on ahead, ignoring his gaze. He inhaled, whilst I still couldn't breathe. "What happened?" He began and I froze. "How did you not know that you were seventeen?" He shot at me.

I flared up. I shot him a pointed look that burned with anger. "Did you?"

Jameson looked lost for words for a few moments. "What?" He replied first. "Of course I knew that you turned seventeen." He was telling the truth. I could see it in his eyes. I turned away.

"Pick some pyjamas out." Jameson straightened up again. "You should nap before you run back into Academy life." Funny thing is, I don't know if I even have the strength to run.

I stood up and walked over to my cupboard. As my bony hands reached out to clasp onto the handle, I realised something. I have been malnourished for at least a few months.

"None of this will fit me." I acknowledged aloud and Jameson paused. I turned to see his arm outstretched, ready to open his bedroom door. His eyes trailed the length of my very thin frame. And I think, for the first time that he had seen me today, he realised just to what extent I had suffered. But it was his fault. His arm fell to his side.

"Find the tightest pair of bottoms you can," He advised, "And who doesn't like a baggy top?" I think he was trying to make a joke. But it kind of flopped when I turned back around and started to fish through my drawers. I heard Jameson slip into his room, but he didn't close the door. I found myself feeling oddly comforted that he didn't. Somehow.

I rummaged through my drawers. These drawers weren't like mine back home. Because back home, I had my whole life in my drawers, and sometimes I even kept age twelve pyjamas. Here, the lowest size is six. So I had to find bottoms that were adjustable in size.

"Excuse me, miss." I swivelled around at the voice, coming to meet a young nurse, maybe my age, holding a bottle of something.

She frowned as her eyes absorbed my face. I had never been frowned at regarding my features before. She thrust the bottle into my hands. "You should try this, just in case." I turned the bottle over. It was some sort of shampoo, but I didn't care enough to read the bottle.

"Also, here is a bag for any of your garments and jewellery." She handed me a clear plastic bag, almost the size of a recycling bag. I looked down at what I was wearing—an Spring outfit in tatters.

"And you should go for shorts, we need to take pictures and do examinations of the harm done towards you." She advised, before leaving me standing by my open cupboard with a clear plastic bag and shampoo in my hands. I placed the items on my bed before bending down, seeking out some adjustable shorts in my drawers. I found some, and some underwear, but when I rose from the floor, I also found my old life standing there. Outfits that came with memories. The tight blue, bodycon dress, the one I wore back when I partied with the girls—I wonder how they are. The outfit I wore the day Carter arrived at the Academy. My heart just kept on breaking. And that same outfit came with the memory of my lips being attached to Jameson's. I slammed the cupboard doors shut.

I picked up my belongings and walked into my bathroom. I didn't stop what I was doing, no matter what memories came back to haunt me. After placing my shampoo in the shower, placing the bag on the floor by my bin and placing my pyjamas on the side of the sink, I looked in the mirror for the first time in God knows how long. Then I realised why the nurse had frowned at me.

I looked disgusting. I had never seen myself look so unattractive in my life. Cuts and bruises that I had acquired over time had healed. But there was dry blood and mud imprinted all over my body. I had to get it off.

After going to the toilet, I stripped myself of the dirt ridden clothes, throwing them and my earrings into the plastic bag. And so, there I stood, naked in front of my mirror. In that moment, I was skin and bones.

I weighed myself, out of curiosity. And what did the scales say? They said, 'Sky, you've lost your boobs and your butt; you're severely underweight'. I weighed just under six stone.

I shoved the scales away from me and stepped into the shower, ready to wash the last few months off me. When the water first trailed down my body, I watched as dirt and dry blood went down the drain. I hoped the memories would follow them.

Then I scrubbed and scrubbed. I used the shampoo that the nurse had given to me, then another shampoo, then conditioner. I'm pretty sure I washed every part of my body three times. I even washed behind my ears. I had to wash off the mud and blood before I set to work on my face. When I was done, I still wasn't done. I believed that there was dirt everywhere. But there wasn't, I just didn't believe that.

I stepped out of the shower, pulling a towel around my body. Still thinking about the dirt, I stuck cotton buds into my ears. Once I felt marginally more cleaner, I towel dried my unruly hair before I brushed the knots out with a comb. It reached to my lower back by now.

Then I slipped the towels off me. And there I was again, naked in front of the mirror. There were a few bruises that I hadn't seen before—they were yellow. But I was no longer covered in dirt. I still looked deathly slim, but I shook it off, reaching for my pyjamas.

I slipped my clothes on and looked at my broken image in the mirror.

A knock at the door startled me, "Sky, are you ready?" It was Jameson.

I placed my hand on the door handle and twisted it, pushing the door outwards and seeing Jameson standing to the side. He stared at me. His eyes absorbed details on my face. Then his eyes trailed down my body, pausing on my thin limbs. He frowned. But it was his fault. It was always his fault. Did he realise that?

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Rip Skyson

You were great while you lasted

While is such a weird word

While

And whilst

While-sssst

Like wtf is that

Who made this

And why

I'm currently editing on my iPad and iPad doesn't approve

iPad hates me

-relationship goals

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Next update: I really don't know
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CHAPTER FIFTEEN SPOILER:

Sad to leave the present behind?

No worries;

We aren't going anywhere.

Carrying on from the place this chapter left off at, chapter fifteen shows Sky to stumble around her old life at the Academy, getting the help she has long needed.

But will she ever accept help from the person who seems to want to give it unconditionally?

(If you don't know who I'm talking about, you're a sinner)