Hollow
Yolanda Olson
Published by Yolanda Olson, 2015.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
HOLLOW
First edition. August 19, 2015.
Copyright © 2015 Yolanda Olson.
Written by Yolanda Olson.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Thank you
HOLLOW
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty One
A Letter To My Brothers
More Books By Yolanda
Thank you
To my beta team for taking the chance on Jude’s story. To my PAs Beth Sterry and Brittany Reece for keeping me going until the end. To my street team for working so hard to make sure that Jude’s story wouldn’t go unnoticed.
This one is for my amazing readers who always believe in me no matter what I throw at them. Thank you all more than I can honestly put into words.
Thank you to Cassandra Mendoza for the amazing photo editing! And a huge thank you to Alisha Cole for being the face of Jude.
RAISE YOUR HAMMERS
HOLLOW
One
For the first six months of my life I didn't have a name. Not a first one, anyway. I was just Baby Girl McIntyre, third child of Violet McIntyre and the guy that abandoned us when my mother got pregnant with me. I think they were married, but I never asked because I didn't care.
Shortly after my mother had me, she spiraled into one of the worst cases of postpartum depression that her doctor had ever seen. It was around that time that I finally got my name. She kept her attention on her Bible to get her out of her spiral and as a result, my oldest brother raised us. Because you know, what else would a seven year old have to do besides that?
Anyway, after reading her Bible over and over, she named me Jude. Apparently, Saint Jude was the Patron Saint of Lost Causes and mother dear loved me so much, she thought that it would fit me perfectly. She was funny in a way though; she thumped that Bible harder than a hooker getting paid twenty bucks for a quick fuck in the backseat. Her knowledge of the book was impeccable and irritating at the same time.
I remember when I was around six years old and she was at Bible Study one night, my two brothers and I watched the movie Carrie. I felt like I was watching a preview of what my life would be and tried my nonexistent telekinetic powers on Violet at the table during breakfast the next morning. I remember feeling duped when knives, forks, and spoons didn't fly off the table and impale her multiple times.
I smile at the memory now. She may not have been much in the way of parenting and she may have loved her God more than she loved us, but I guess it was just the luck of the draw and the three of us lost.
With a sigh and a pull on my cigarette, I thought of another monumental failure of a decision in my life. It happened when I was twelve. We had been shipped off to spend a few weeks to our aunt and uncle while Violet dented her knees with more prayer and study. We were too disruptive for her to think properly, she had told us. Always wanting to please her, the three of us left quietly. Personally, I was excited because I didn't even know we had aunts and uncles, let alone any family outside of just the four of us.
The first week wasn't so bad. We were taught how to be normal kids and not have to do everything in the name of the Lord which was nice for a change. We got to meet our cousins who had just come home from some amazing vacation in another country. They showed us pictures and told us all of sorts of great stories. They even taught us how to play video games and took us out for walks and hikes. Even though Ethan, my oldest brother, was pretty much the one that should have had seniority, he went right along with it.
The second night of the third week was when the fuck up occurred. I had been the victim of some horrendous nightmare that I couldn't quite remember and wound up going into the kitchen to get a glass of water to calm myself down. On the way back to the room I was sleeping in, I saw a light under my Cousin Bobby's door. I don't know why it got my attention. Maybe it was because it was around two in the morning or maybe because I liked him a lot since he always let me play video games even on his "turn."
I pushed the door open and peeked in to find him sitting at his desk watching something on his computer. He turned around, smiled at me, and waved me over. It made me happy that he wanted me around all the time, so I practically skipped over to his side. What I saw on the screen was something I had never seen or known of at the time. There was a grown man and a grown woman naked, doing things to each other. Bobby was doing something to himself too when he was watching it, but he put his arm around my waist, and pulled me close to him. He rested his head on my arm and put my hand on him, telling me to keep doing what he had been doing if I really loved him.
Motherfucker, I thought angrily for a moment. I hated reliving this memory but it was the only way I could accept the fact that I'm this fucked up for a reason.
He asked me if I loved him and I told him yes. I did love Bobby; he was nicer to me than Ethan and Jeremy, and always seemed to light up when I was around.
He asked me how much I loved him and I told him more than anyone in the world. It was true; Bobby was like my newly found hero that kept the other boys from being mean to me or calling me names.
He asked me if I could keep a secret and I told him that anything he told me would stay in my mind and never come out of my mouth.
He asked me if I wanted to sit on his lap and watch the movie and I told him that I couldn't if I had to hold onto his "thing." He told me that if I sat down just right his "thing" would hold me in place and then we'd both be able to act like we were in the movie too.
Every single night for the next two weeks, which was the duration of our stay, he would lead me into his room when everyone had gone to sleep so I could sit on his lap.
With a sigh, I flicked my cigarette into the street and stopped myself from thinking of anything else that happened that night. I don’t know why those particular memories came back to me right now. Maybe it was the fact that I was sitting on the footsteps of the funeral home with my mother inside in a casket, that those two shining highlights of my life came tumbling back to me. Maybe it was because Cousin Bobby was probably here with his wife and kids feigning the perfect life and it was pissing me off. He had no right to be here, but I couldn't exactly kick him out.
I got to my feet, brushed my hands off on my torn black skirt, and started up the rest of the steps. I put a hand on the fake gold handle of the funeral home and had one thought as I pulled it open and walked through.
Ding dong, the witch is dead.
Two
As soon as I walked back into the funeral home, I made my way straight to Ethan. Jeremy hadn’t arrived yet and I wouldn’t fault him for not coming at all. After all, Violet hadn’t been kind to any of us.
Ethan sighed, causing me to glance up at him with a smile. He quietly chuckled at my smile and turned his face away. I wasn’t exactly sure what had him so upset but I knew it wasn’t her. He resented her for not having a childhood and having to raise us.
Moments later, my question was answered by an unwelcome surprise. An older man, probably in his mid-forties, came over and stopped to talk to Ethan. The resemblance was so damned striking that I just stared at him at first.
“I have to go, but I wanted to tell you again how sorry I am,” he said, holding out a hand to Ethan.
“Thanks,” my brother mumbled, shaking his hand.
I stepped back a little, hiding half of myself behind my brother, because I had a sickening feeling I knew who this man was.
“Hello,” he said with a nod to me.
“You know, I’d ask you if you recognized your own daughter, but I already know the answer to that,” Ethan scoffed.
The man’s eyes widened as he took a step closer to me, prompting Ethan to move his body to hide almost all of me behind him. Even at our ages now, he was ever the big brother.
“I’m sorry,” the man said, tears springing to his eyes. “I should have known who you were. You look like her.”
“I think we can find another time to catch up on old memories, Dad,” Ethan replied through grit teeth. “Today is obviously not that day. I’ll give you my phone number since you’re leaving.”
The man gave me one last long stare before reluctantly nodding and writing down the numbers that Ethan spit out quickly.
“Sorry about that,” he said, when our father left. “I should’ve told you he was here.”
Smiling, I stepped out behind him. “Not a big deal. He doesn’t affect me in the least.”
“You always were a strong kid, Jude,” he replied softly with a smile. “I’m gonna go in there and act like we’re sad that she’s dead. Feel free to come in and feign sadness with me whenever you’re ready.”
I tried my best not to laugh out loud. Ethan didn’t care for how Violet treated me more than he cared about how she treated him. I was the girl so that automatically made me the harlot. Sometimes I would look at baby pictures of myself and wonder why she hadn’t stitched a giant scarlet letter A onto my onesies.
I sighed and looked around. I knew that eventually I would have to turn on the waterworks, go inside, and cry by her coffin but I didn’t feel like being an Oscar winning actress just yet.
“Hey Jude,” someone said behind me. I rolled my eyes. That had to be the billionth time I had heard that lame greeting from anyone who had ever found out my name.
“Yes?” I asked, turning around.
And there he was. Ten years older, but it was obviously him.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Bobby said, leaning forward to hug me.
Everything inside of me was telling me to rip his throat out with my teeth, but I figured one corpse in the funeral home today would be enough. I quickly returned his hug, with a couple of pats on the back, then pulled away.
Bobby Taylor, with his big green eyes and tousled blonde hair, was giving me a sympathetic look. He wasn’t as tall as Ethan, but he was taller than me by far. I could see the tattoos he was hiding with his suit jacket, peeking out near his wrists. I stared at his hands for a moment trying to keep the floodgate of memories opening again.
I looked up into his boyish face and could almost swear I had caught him smirking. My first instinct was to walk into the viewing room, stand next to Violet, and break my promise of keeping the abuse a secret just to watch Ethan beat him into to a bloody pulp, but I held my ground and my will.
“How have you been? I haven’t seen you in years,” he said, sliding his hands into his pants pockets.
“Fine.”
It was true. I had catapulted myself into a level of numbness that I refused to let myself come out of. I wouldn’t feel while he was around me; if I did violent things would happen.
“So, what happened? How did Aunt Violet die?” he asked.
“I think all the time she spent praying on her knees sent a blood clot straight to her brain,” I replied with a shrug.
“Are your brothers here?” he asked, peeking his head around the wall and into the viewing room.
“Ethan is.” And if you so much as touch me again, I’ll fucking tell him everything, I finished quietly to myself. “Where’s your wife?”
“Ex-wife,” he corrected. “Who knows and who gives a fuck.”
I nodded and turned my attention back to the room of people that were mourning Violet. It was mostly her church people and a few family members scattered here and there.
“I better get in there. I can’t leave my brother to take the brunt of this by himself,” I said, nodding at Ethan who was standing uncomfortably by the coffin.
“Maybe we can catch up afterwards?” Bobby suggested.
I looked at him with a raised eyebrow. I don’t know what the hell told him to suggest catching up would be a good thing. Ever since that one time we were at his parents’ house, I would kick and scream bloody murder any time Violet tried to send us back. This was the first time I was seeing him since those nights. I spent the last ten years successfully dodging him.
“No thank you,” I replied curtly as I walked into the viewing room, stood next to my brother, and started to fake cry.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Bobby standing in the doorway, shaking his head with a smirk on his face.
This is far from over, I vowed as my brother put his arm around my shoulder.
Three
Wake. Check.
Funeral. Check.
Put the bitch in the ground. Check.
Back to my regularly scheduled life. Whatever that means.
Two months had passed since we laid Violet to rest and I was sitting in my little one bedroom apartment reading the newspaper. I didn’t have anything better to do with my time since Jeremy and Ethan paid for everything I needed. It wasn’t anything I had asked of them, it was something they wanted to do. I guess to be able to give me the leeway to do whatever I wanted, which was something I was denied as a child.
Anytime I made mention of getting a job, they would both sit me down and tell me it was unnecessary since they both worked good jobs and had more than enough money to help me.
They also deposited money into a bank account for me to use however I wanted. I loved my brothers, but sometimes I felt like they babied more than they needed to.
I often found myself reading to past the time. Newspapers, magazines, instructions on a can of air freshener if I ran out of other things to read. I liked to be able to just retain information or dive into a world where everything was perfect and love was an instant thing. A world that was filled with kittens running under rainbow sky filled fields and no one ever said an unkind word to anyone else.
Of course I only ever read one book that made me feel like that, hence my decision to stick to newspapers and magazines. A place where the story was real a majority of the time or the lies were at least entertaining.
Today, I was flipping through the police log section and my attention was on a story where some woman had been kidnapped and seemed to disappear into thin air.
For some reason I was fascinated with the idea. To have someone take you when you least expect it, then to have them take you somewhere you don’t know for God knows what, strangely excited me.
I devoured the story. The woman had been kidnapped from the empty parking lot of the local grocery store she had been closing. The cops stated they weren’t sure why no one else was with her, but so far they didn’t have any leads or have any idea why anyone would take her. A coworker was quoted as saying that she was a kind, caring, compassionate person that would give someone the shirt off of her back if they were cold.
I rolled my eyes. Those were always the ones that managed to get taken. I glanced over the top of the article again and saw the picture of the woman who had been assumed dead at this point. Brownish, stringy hair, freckles on her face, and pretty blue eyes. She seemed short and a little on the heavy side, but she was definitely beautiful.
With the flick of my wrist I closed the newspaper and got up from
my chair. I went over to the refrigerator and felt around the top until I found a new pack of cigarettes. Tapping the bottom of it a few times against my palm, I started to wonder how being held hostage honestly felt.
Was it thrilling or was it terrifying? Or was it a little of both? What happened to the hostages? Did any of them ever really make it out in one piece or was there some kind of secret cloning factory that the police would use once the suspects were in custody to assure us all that we were still safe?
With as weird as it was, it seemed to make more sense to me than a kidnapped person magically reappearing again after being gone for months or years at a time.
I smiled at the way I found myself thinking these days, and slid my feet into my flip flops. I glanced out the window and though it would be a nice day for a walk. I grabbed my pack of cigarettes, my lighter, and my apartment keys and walked out the front door. As I jogged down the stairs, I fished around in the pocket of my denim shorts until I found a hair tie. Pulling my long brown hair back into a tight ponytail, I pushed the door at the bottom of the stairwell open and walked out into the lobby.
Today would be a day for people watching. It would be a day where I tried to talk to some of them. If any of them seemed to notice my presence anyway. Being a child of Violet McIntyre made me an expert of hiding myself in plain sight.
I went to the coffee shop a few blocks away from where I lived and ordered my usual drink. A large coffee with extra cream and sugar. Today I asked for a shot of espresso in it because I wanted to be more alert than usual.
I planned on enjoying myself today watching everyone going by up and down the street. Once my coffee was made and paid for, I dropped the change into the tip box and walked out of the shop.
As was my usual routine, I crossed the street and walked down four more blocks until I came to the small park that housed a playground, some benches, and a pit for barbecuing.
It was empty today though, which I found to be a relief. It was going to be hard enough to pretend being one of the normal people, without trying to not to stare at the children and try to live a childhood through their laughter and smiles.
Hollow Page 1