The Hollow (Rose of the Dawn Series Book 2) Read Online Free

as I can guess, I’ve been
here for four full seasons, so that would be two years. Summer and winter.
Summer and winter. No more than two seasonal years as far as I can tell.”
    By the looks of
it outside, it must be almost winter. Or spring. The tree branches cast shadows
on the walls. There are no leaves. I have no idea how long I’ve been anywhere
now, but I know I’ve only been here days.
    “Shhh,” Leland
has moved back from the window to my bed. He crouches down, both hands on the
mattress.
    “What is it?” I
whisper.
    “I’ve got to go.
She’s coming back.” He pushes away from the bed and slides to the baseboard
beneath the windows. He pulls out the ornate iron grate, only 2 feet by 2 feet
square and slips into the wall, squeezing his shoulders through, his legs
sliding in behind him. Turning around, I can see his head poke out before he
brings the grate back into place.
    “Wait,” I am
able to sit up straighter. My voice isn’t as weak and the fog in my brain is
lifting. “Will you, will you come back?”
    “Hush. I’ll come
back. You’ll see me again. Don’t mention anything to your nurse. No questions.”
    The door opens
and the white nurse strides in, clipboard in hand. She stops short when she
sees my screen on. My body in X-ray spinning on the wall. She walks over to my
chart, taps two fingers on the wall screen, the rest of them lighting up, and
then looks at the open blinds. Instead of saying anything, she jots something
down on the clipboard. She minimizes the window.
    She moves over
to my bedside and inclines the bed so I am at a 90 degree angle. She reaches
for my arm, moves the gown away and scans the bar code. My records are back up
on the screen. She lets my arm go. It drops back on my lap. She takes my wrist
and times my pulse. The milliseconds tick up on the wall.
    “You are getting
feeling back, I see.”
    Don’t say
anything to anyone.
    She puts down my
wrist and pulls a syringe from a pocket on the front of her skirt. It’s already
full. She taps out air bubbles, holding it to the light.
    “Just one more minute.”
Her voice is higher than before. She may be taller. Is this the same nurse? She tips me onto my side and empties the syringe into the line along my back.
    “Why’re you –”
    “Keeping you
comfortable,” she places me back and reclines the bed.
    The cold courses
up and down my spine.
    The nurse takes
my arms, returning them to my side. They’re numb again.
    “Get some rest,”
she orders and walks over to the window, drawing the blinds, plummeting me into
darkness.
    Again.

4
    I wake up in a different room, a much
smaller room, but in the same bed. This room isn’t bright white. There is no
white actually, except for the sheets. The walls are gray and the ceiling is stained
yellow in spots. There is a dresser and a wooden chair in the corner.
    Light is coming
in from somewhere on the ground. My eyes hurt. My hand reaches up to rub my
head. My legs twitch. I bend my knees and then draw them up to my chest. I
laugh out loud. I’m ecstatic. I’m going crazy. It’s more than just a reflex.
    “I can move you,
too!” I push down the sheets and swing my legs over the side. They’re a bit
stiff, but they don’t hurt. I reach back, behind me and don’t feel a thing. Nothing.
There isn’t gauze or even a bandage. And there isn’t a wound. Leland was right.
I’m healed.
    Pushing off the
bed, I brace myself. My legs give out anyway and I crumple to the ground. I
take a deep breath in and stand up again. There is a line of orange lights
wrapped in clear tubing, all around the base of the room.
    “I’m going to
cross the room and you’re going to help me, legs.” My toes curl as they touch
the cold floor.
    One foot in
front of the other, I make my way to the windows. There are no screens or
monitors in this room. There isn’t anything to hold myself up with either so I
take one step and stop to regain balance, take another step and stop. Step and
stop. It