Hollow Hearts (The Harkwright Trilogy Book 1)

by B C Morgan

  Tears fill my eyes when I see my mom pass the kitchen doorway, I didn’t realize relief could be so palpable. Only, it isn’t only relief that’s coursing it’s way through me. I can’t stop myself from shifting from foot to foot and playing with my hair. I can’t believe mom is already home, I should have gotten back sooner, she shouldn’t be making dinner. If anything she should be catching up on her sleep and leaving the house to me, I kind of need it to function.

  “Where have you been? I was worried when I got home and you weren’t here,” she’s speaking to me. The first time in two weeks where she’s strung more than a three-word sentence together.

  “I was just taking a walk, I regret it now though. Sit down and I’ll take care of dinner, also do you think I have an active imagination?” Where did that come from?

  “No Lu I wouldn’t use that word to describe you. Kind, considerate, quiet and a great kid but not that,” her eyes are soft and there’s a hint of a smile gracing her lips. Her bags are still deep and as dark as the night sky but she seems… happier?

  “Maybe I’m just a drama queen then, I don’t know,” her eyebrows are rising and I can’t help but spill my guts to her. “I swear people stare at me, no matter where I go and I know it's because I’m pale everywhere. I am way too skinny and my breasts look huge in comparison to the rest of me, but sometimes I wonder if I’m imagining it because part of me wants to be noticed.” A deep sigh pours out of me as my hands move fast against the cutting board and pulverize the onions and mushrooms that I’m preparing for the pan. “Which makes me feel even worse and I very nearly fooled myself into believing that this amazing guy was flirting with me. It’s so embarrassing,” my hair falls to cover my face and I love the shield it’s offering me.

  “Luna, you are a beautiful young lady and I hate that I can’t afford to feed you the amount you need. I know I’m really low on the ‘good mom’ scale but I’m trying, I don’t want to lose the closeness we’ve always had and I’m sorry for how I’ve been reacting. I’m supposed to be the parent and yet, I’ve acted like the child. I don’t know if I can support you in this and I won’t pretend that I hope you do not get picked but I can’t control you. Just know that you have a mom and sister who love the bones off of you and if you think a guy was flirting with you, chances are he probably was. You are amazing and any guy would be lucky to be with you. Completely biased opinion, but still true,” she brushes my hair behind my ears and pulls my head until our foreheads are resting on each other.

  “I love you mom.”

  “I love you more Luna bean, never forget it.”

  She drops a kiss on my forehead and my chest hurts a little less and my anxiety is even lessening, the power of mother’s. They really are amazing. I finish sautéing the vegetables before adding the diced chicken and noodles. This stir fry already smells amazing, and it’s making me so hungry. Two heaping portions is what I’m imagining but I can’t, it will go into six if it kills me.

  My head is all over the place as I start to wonder if Dr. Stevenson was flirting with me, but I can’t imagine it. He’s Poppy’s doctor and I doubt many people find love in a psychiatric hospital. No, he was just being nice to the lonely, quiet girl who has no one in her life outside of her mother and sister.

  I throw on my jacket over my slacks and white dress shirt, I wish I could look smarter but I’m not going to pretend I come from money when I don’t. I can’t stop myself from wringing my hands as I walk down to the subway and I avoid any gazes that seem to fall on me. My satchel bag won’t stop hitting my hip and I can’t stop thinking about my essay, maybe I should read it one more time but what can I do on a train? I didn’t even know who to address it to, so I didn’t. What if that was the wrong decision? She's already against me, I really don’t think I’ve done myself any favors.

  I slide my money across the counter with a mumbled, “thank you,” the cashier gives me a cursory look before looking to the person behind me and indicating for them to step forward. I snatch my ticket up and my shoulders hunch forward as I hurry to my platform and wait for my ride to take me to a place that could possibly change, not just my life, but also Poppy’s.

  I board the train car as soon as it turns up and sink down into a seat and I hope that no one sits beside me. I don’t want to have to deal with someone who may be chatty, a shiver passes through me at that very thought.

  I pull my essay out, even though I know I shouldn’t and trepidation fills my very being and my eyes devour my own words. I wrote it so it’s not as though I don’t know what it says, but I still can’t stop myself from quaking at the way I’ve bared myself on paper for a woman I don’t even know.

  It’s hard to say why I want the chance to join the Academy, I won’t pretend that I think I deserve it, because why would I? I also won’t waste time on prettying this up, it would ruin what I am trying to say and will undoubtedly confuse the point I am trying to make entirely. So, I want to join for two reasons. One is rather selfish in my opinion and I am not proud of that, but every now and then all of us want something just for ourselves and this is mine. I want the opportunity to better myself, ever since I was a naive little girl I have dreamed of being able to open my own bakery and to have people come from far and wide just to try my food. I need money and the right education to make that happen and I’m not sure what else I can do to achieve it. I don’t have a lot of opportunities in my life and I am willing to do a lot of things to have my dream realized.

  So that is my utterly selfish reason, but it’s also the secondary one. I would give it up entirely and spend the rest of my life as a waitress if it meant that my sister was awarded the treatment she needs. My sister is twenty-five years old and has spent the last year and a half in a psychiatric hospital. She is suffering from Catatonia and they have yet to discover the reason as to why this has happened. My Mother is working herself into an early grave to afford the hospital fees but we’ve more or less been told that she’s only barely covering the costs. Because of this, my sister isn’t classed as a priority and the staff are really only making sure she remains clean, clothed and fed. I need the money that my mother will be awarded to help my sister and I need the money I would earn by staying to make sure she finally gets the care she deserves. I just want my sister back and for my mom to be able to worry a little less and only have to work one job.

  These are the reasons why I want to join Harkwright’s but you can gloss over the bakery one for all I care. My sister is all that matters and unlike my dream bakery, there is absolutely nothing I wouldn’t do for her. She deserves the world and I will stop at nothing to give it to her.

  Luna Carter

  I slip the essay back in my bag and notice a pair of feet in front of my own, my heart is thumping wildly at the fact that I hadn’t even noticed someone had joined me. My eyes stare at his leather shoes and work their way up his black slacks, staring at his thick thighs a little too long before lining up with his stomach. He’s wearing a black dress shirt, and it's pulled tightly against his abdomen and there isn’t an ounce to be seen upon him, by the time my eyes make it up to his neck I can see the hint of a smirk gracing his lips and it pisses me off.

  I wish I was the type of person who could actually say something to the smug ass, but that’s more Poppy’s territory. I’m more likely to blush profusely and dart my eyes to an imaginary spot on the ground.

  I lift my eyes up the rest of the way and my cheeks are warming profusely and I can barely catch my breath as my eyes connect with a pair of steel grey ones that are so dark it feels as though I’m staring into a mirror of my own soul. The smirk is well in place and I can feel my blush spreading down my neck and no doubt my chest is well on its way as well.

  “See something you like Snow?” The cocky bastard asks and no doubt he can see the way my throat bobs as I swallow my nerves. I know he can see it as his eyes are fixated on my throat and he’s either watching the way it moves or fantasizing about strangling me.

  “Sorry,” I
stutter on each letter as I force the word out and duck my eyes down before I bring my chin into my chest and fish my fake earphones out of my pocket and place them into my ears.

  I don’t even have a device to play music on, but I’ve found this an effective way to get people to stop talking to me. I can feel his eyes burning holes into me but I won’t look up, I don’t need to draw anymore attention to myself. My hair, pale skin and eyes and then the boobs do that enough on their own.

  “I know you’re pretending Snow, terrible manners if you ask me. Did your parents never teach you any manners? It’s only polite to join in when a conversation is started.”

  I tighten my fist in my lap, not only because of his patronizing treatment but also the sound of his voice. It sounds as though he’s got the power to drug me with just his speech and my head feels a little woozy. This is crazy, who is this guy and how is he causing such a reaction in me? Although I guess I already know the answer, my self imposed sheltered lifestyle and the fact that I avoid most people like the plague unless I’m related to them or their surname is Stevenson. I can’t hold in the sigh that passes my lips at the thought of him and I only just manage to hold back the smile.

  I don’t want sir stare-a-lot to think it’s for him, I really hope he gets off at the next stop. It will be just my luck if he’s here for the duration of my journey.

  This town is crazy! Every street is in some way connected to Arthur Harkwright himself. Harkwright Street, Wright Avenue, they all have some resemblance. The fact that the Academy is in this town is not lost on me but I can’t even see it. The wall surrounding it is so tall and even the gaps in the electrified gate don’t reveal anything to me. It’s better if I don’t stay too long looking at this place, I have thirty minutes to get to the building where my fate is to be decided and I need to be early. She made that point perfectly clear.

  There are boutiques, high-end restaurants and hotels, I can’t see anything here that could ever be within my price range, I knew he was pretentious, but it’s growing more and more obvious how much this man loves himself. Will all the men inside the Academy be like this? Is this what I have to look forward to if I get accepted? No, I don’t think I can do it, I just don’t.

  A lady is leaving one of the stores, I clear my throat and her look is all kinds of haughty.

  “Yes?” Her tone is rubbing me the wrong way and I still can’t meet her eyes, as mine dart to the side and I can’t stop myself from wringing my hands as I shuffle on the spot.

  “Well, spit it out girl. I do not have all day.”

  “I’m s-s-sorry, I was just wondering if you could tell m-m-me where the Harkwright offices are p-please?” I hate that I can’t get my sentence out without the stuttering.

  Her sighs almost gut me, she’s going to walk away and not even answer and I won’t have a clue where to go.

  “You poor kids really do not get much of an education do you? Look for the tallest building, you cannot miss it,” she looks me up and down before tutting and walking off.

  Clearly she’s too good for contractions as well, stupid woman. Did she have to make me feel like such an idiot? I’ve had that my whole life, I don’t need it anymore. Although I can kind of see her point, raising my head and seeing the building looming over me with the Harkwright name lit up in bright, golden lights even though it’s morning and the sun is shining high in the sky.

  The click clack of my heels is ringing in my ears as I walk down the sidewalk, I’m mere feet from the building and it’s even more imposing the closer I get. It has revolving doors and a marbled sidewalk leading up to them, like its very own permanent red carpet. Swallowing deeply, I place my palms on the chrome bar in the middle of the door and push my way into the building. Wow, this place is immense. It’s so tall I can’t even see the ceiling and there is layer after layer of balconies looking down upon us. This lobby itself is fit for a royal visit, I feel so out of place.

  I approach the reception desk, which could sit ten of me around the curved marble and my heels are sounding even louder now.

  The woman behind the desk has a cordless headset on her head and her nails are a bright red and filed into talons. She could probably scratch my eyes out with those things, if she was that way inclined. Her lips are as bright as her nails and her hair is pulled back into a fierce ponytail, I guess she is pretty but I just find her terrifyingly intimidating.

  She arches a perfect brow but isn’t saying a word, am I supposed to say something or wait for her to say the first word? I am so out of my element.

  “Are you sure you are in the right place?” Hello to you too, you snotty bitch.

  “Yes, I am here to see Ms. Vanderbilt. I’m Luna Carter,” the amount of pauses I have to take between my words to ensure I don't stutter is ridiculous, but I’m still counting it as a win.

  “I see, put this lanyard around your neck,” she’s throwing it at me, what have I done to piss her off? “You need the first elevator and to go to the thirty-eighth floor, she encompasses the entire floor so you can’t possibly get lost.”

  She swivels her chair to the side, not inviting any further questions from me. If it’s at all possible, I think she became even frostier towards me once she knew who I was here to see. Better to be a riff raff than a visitor of Ms. Vanderbilt.

  I walk away and enter the first elevator I see, it even has a bellman standing in place and ready to select my required floor. I mumble out the number and he gives me a grimace before pressing the button and staring straight ahead. My nerves are only growing worse with each second that passes, who the hell is this woman? Is she the reason I’m getting these reactions or is it because of the reason behind her job? Maybe I should run the other way while I still have a chance, but I can’t help but think that I’ve already crossed the point of no return.

  “Good luck,” he whispers underneath his breath as the doors open with a loud resounding ping and I cross the threshold onto a floor that has no other color than white.

  A white tarnished hardwood floor, joining up to white walls on one side and high windows on the other and a white marble desk sitting within the center of the floor with a glass walled room sitting behind it. I guess pretentious loves pretentious in this place, I exhale deeply before walking over to the desk and waiting for the receptionist to look up at me.

  I have twenty minutes before my appointment time, so at least I cannot be accused of tardiness. That has to be one thing in my favor, at least I hope it is.

  “Take a seat Miss Carter, you will be called in when she is ready for you,” the woman doesn’t even look up at me or finish typing away for a single second.

  I mumble my “thank you,” before taking a seat on the white leather sofa, that I hadn’t even noticed at first because it just blends into the room. I don’t dare sink back into the sofa, instead I perch on the edge and wait to be summoned.

  It’s really hard not to fidget on the spot, I swear I can hear my pulse thumping in my skull. I’m trying to not stare into the glass walled room, that could be a big no, no and I don’t want her to have any other reasons to dislike me.

  There’s a crystal clock ticking on the wall opposite me and there’s still fifteen minutes to go. Surely she won’t make me wait, she can’t be that narcissistic. Her office is empty aside from her, this is ridiculous.

  “Miss Carter, she will see you now,” she still doesn’t lift her head to look at me and I really have been made to wait until my appointment time. For crying out loud, why am I still here?

  Another mumbled “thank you,” passes my lips and I know I can hear her scoff at my manners. Entitled bitch.

  I walk into the office and the plush carpet sinks beneath my heels, there is a chrome desk with a wall lined with bookshelves but nothing personal. No pictures or any sign that she is even remotely human.

  I walk over to the desk and stand behind the chair waiting for me to take a seat, I am not falling for that one. I know it’s bad manners to sit without being invited to first, I�
�ll stand here for as long as it takes.

  “Miss Carter, I see you heeded my advice and arrived early. Which proves you can at least follow simple instructions, did you complete the essay I assigned you?” Still no invite to sit, fine I just need to make sure I don’t start fidgeting under her scrutiny.

  “Yes Ms. Vanderbilt,” I reply, handing it over and you have got to be kidding me! Is she really going to sit there and read it in front of me? This woman is downright awful, I hate her and I don’t use that word easily.

  Her face isn’t changing at all as she reads my words, I think she’s even rereading certain sections but I have no idea why. She lays it down after a few minutes and brushes it out against the desk before placing her gaze on me.

  “Okay Miss Carter, you may sit.”

  I fold myself into the chair, trying to make sure I don’t slouch. I really do not know how to act right now, I haven’t exactly had an interview before so I have nothing to draw from.

  “As I said on the phone, I do not believe you are Harkwright Academy material, that being said I do need to give you the benefit of the doubt and go through the standard protocol. Now your sister has Catatonia, is this something we need to be concerned about where you are concerned?”

  “No Ms. Vanderbilt, my sister used to be like everyone else. She was the life and soul of the party and then one day something happened and she withdrew into herself, we have yet to uncover the reason behind it but it isn’t something you need to worry about where I am concerned. Besides, even if it was an inherited trait it wouldn’t affect me,” I say as my eyes fall to an ink stain in the wood of her desk and she looks over my application once more.

  “We’ll see, so on your application form you marked that you were a virgin and that you have only had one boyfriend which never went past the light kissing stage. Do you stand by this answer?” Her eyes are the kind that I would dare anyone to lie to, she’s like a human lie detector.