I do not own Harry Potter. This is my own idea. All rights are reserved
to JK Rowling
Chapter 2: Alone
Hollie was walking home from her job on a Friday night and found herself reflecting on her life from the time she left the safety of the hospital. It had been nearly four months and summer was now in full swing being mid July, but she had no desire to take any vacation. Her reasoning was simple, 'I have no one to go with so what is the point'.
She seldom varied from her routine, and when she did it was not by choice. Everyday she would wake up at seven o'clock sharp, eat a small breakfast and exercise before getting ready for the day ahead. Monday through Saturday she spent the entire day across the street from her flat at Book Classics where Adam had been able to get her a job. Most of the time she would be there from opening to closing and even then Mary, the owner, would have to insist that she leave. Sundays she spent reading the books she borrowed from the store and would eat dinner at Adam's home with his family. Those nights were the times when she felt the happiest. She felt at ease with Adam and could relax for those few hours. His children loved to have Hollie over. The oldest, Jennifer, was close to ten and never ceased asking questions, especially about Hollie's incredible story. Kevin, the middle child, had just turned seven and was shy and reserved. He would sit on her lap while Jennifer bombarded her with questions. The baby of the family, Timmy, was a mere three years old and loved to be given piggyback rides. Whenever Hollie would return home on those nights she had to soak in a warm bath to alleviate some of the stress on her back. 'It is only two more days until I get to see them again,' she thought to herself as stepped off the curb and into the street.
Hollie hated the short walk home, the anticipation of entering her empty flat. Opening her door she looked around her small, comfortable apartment. There was nothing out of place, as usual, because she liked everything to be in order. Her living room walls were simplistically white. The furniture was not to her liking but when the flat comes furnished there isn't much that can be done. A small brown couch and matching chair were placed in front of the tiny fireplace with a wooden coffee table and two wooden end tables. The end tables were not visible from the stacks of books and on the coffee table was a chess set, she could not resist buying when she spotted it while window-shopping, and her drawings. Whenever she finished reading an excessively large book or she had to wait until the morning to get a new one, Hollie would find herself doodling. Her sketches always consisted of the same things; lightning bolts; broomsticks; a large castle with many towers; a bow-legged, orange cat with a squashed face and yellow eyes; a tiny, gray owl swallowed up by a large hand; and the knight chess piece. She had no idea why those things had a particular meaning to her but drawing them seemed to make her feel better. No pictures adorned her walls or mantel and no mementos of birthdays, parties, Christmases or other happy times were anywhere to be found. They just simply did not exist which depressed her more than anything else.
She made her way into the kitchen that was off to the left of the living room. The walls were also white and had no decorations what so ever. The kitchen table was up against the wall on the left with four chairs, only one of which had any use. Although she visited Adam on Sundays, not once had she invited him over to her place. With the bare walls and the awkward feeling of the place she did not want anyone, especially him, to be aware of her loneliness. On the right were the stove, refrigerator and counter, all immaculate. Opening the refrigerator, Hollie took out lunchmeat, cheese and mayonnaise along with some lettuce and tomato. She then went to the breadbox and removed two slices of wheat bread. This was her normal dinner during the week, the only variation being the choice between ham, turkey and roast beef.
When 'dinner' was finished it was nearly nine o'clock. Deciding to go to sleep early she went into her bedroom. Unlike the other rooms, this room had color and reflected her personality. The room was done in a soft yellow with matching curtains and wall-to-wall beige carpeting. The bed was placed on the wall opposite the window and was covered in a pale yellow comforter with a red floral pattern. When she saw that comforter in the store she fell in love with it immediately and decorated the rest of the room to match. The dresser and night tables were the same make as the ones in her living room, having come with the flat. She went over to her dresser and extracted her pajamas. Hollie then moved to the bathroom adjacent to her bedroom to follow her nightly ritual. Her bathroom was done in yellow as well and was sparklingly clean. After changing into her pajamas, brushing her teeth thoroughly and washing her face she settled in bed and read until she drifted off to sleep.
~ ~ ~
Hollie's dreams were as predictable as the rest of her life. They rarely changed. She would relive the night of her attack at least once every night. Walking away from a large building, she would turn into a dark alley becoming aware of approaching footsteps behind her and would awake each time in a cold sweat just as the person touched her shoulder. These nightmares had been getting clearer as time went on.
Once in awhile a dream would cut through that gave her hope and an aching in her heart for what she must have left behind. She would find herself in a room full of red furniture, a large fireplace and numerous children. Although she could not see their faces she had a feeling they must have been her friends. When a set of large hands would cover her eyes from behind she would giggle and turn around slowly finding herself in the embrace of a tall man. Hollie loved this dream very much. Whenever those arms were around her she felt warm inside and completely safe. Each time the dream came to her the only thing she would remember about the man was his fiery red hair.
~ ~ ~
Saturdays at the bookstore were her favorite. The neighborhood children would come bursting through the door at ten for an hour of story time. They always lifted her spirit and she could not help but smile the entire time they were there. This particular Saturday it was Hollie's turn to read aloud to the youngsters. The wide-eyed six years olds were staring up at her as she told them about Clifford, the big red dog. When the story was finished one little girl, with blonde pigtails and bright green eyes, came up to her and rapped her arms around Hollie's leg. "Thank you, Miss Hollie," she cooed.
"You're very welcome, Cassie," she replied, bending down and scooping the little girl up into her arms. She handed Cassie to her mom and went around the room helping the children pick out books and saying good-byes.
Once all the children and their parents had exited the store Mary sent two employees home in anticipation of a slow workday. Hollie, of course, would refuse to leave so Mary never even bothered approaching her about the subject. Mary put Hollie to work restocking the shelves in the back of the store.
While she was replenishing the Fantasy section she heard the tinkle of the bell on the door indicating the entrance of a customer. Hearing Mary asking the person if they needed any help she turned her attention back to the job at hand until she heard the man speak. "I am looking for a book on the most common Mug-I mean the most common causes of death." The voice was silky and full of malice. She froze, her blood ran cold in her veins and her face drained of all color. She recognized the voice. Regaining her composure she poked her head around the corner and saw the back of the man. He was fairly tall, thin and had short blonde hair. When she noticed what he was dressed in her heart began to beat rapidly. He was sporting something similar to what she had been wearing when discovered. It was a long black robe with a hood, not the usual London attire.
Mary walked past the man to show him the section he desired and as he began to turn around Hollie quickly ducked behind the bookshelf to conceal herself from sight. There was something about the man that didn't sit well with her. Even though she desperately wanted to know who she was and what she had been before her accident, asking this person just did not feel right.
While the man was in the store she maneuvered around the shelves to keep herself hidden. After he paid for the book he had selected, Hollie approached Mary. "What book did that man buy?" she inquired.
Mary seemed deep in thought for a moment before responding. "It isn't like you to be curious about the reading habits of strangers."
Hollie sighed, "I know, but there was something familiar about him." After the words had left her mouth she regretted saying anything and wished to take it back.
"Hollie!" Mary exclaimed. "You remember something? Why didn't you talk to him?" The curiosity and enthusiasm over the situation depicted on her face was plain.
She was quiet for a second; she had to get her words precise. "I did not say I remembered him. There was just something that seemed familiar, but not in a good way," she quickly added. "It wasn't like a good memory, more like a bad perception."
"Oh," Mary said in a downtrodden tone. "Well, he bought Death in the Twentieth Century."
"How morbid!" she said. 'I wonder why he would want such a book,' Hollie thought.
"I know," Mary paused. "It talks about the most common causes of death such as cancer and heart attack, even car accidents and drug overdoses. I asked him why he was interested in the dark book. My guess was he probably has to do some sort of report for Medical School but he said it was a gift for his father."
Hollie contemplated what Mary had just posed. 'Maybe his father has some sort of disease and wanted to research it,' she considered. 'Yeah, that's it! There is no other possible explanation," she reassured herself. For the rest of the day the picture of the man kept creeping its way back into her thoughts.
Chapter 2: Alone
Hollie was walking home from her job on a Friday night and found herself reflecting on her life from the time she left the safety of the hospital. It had been nearly four months and summer was now in full swing being mid July, but she had no desire to take any vacation. Her reasoning was simple, 'I have no one to go with so what is the point'.
She seldom varied from her routine, and when she did it was not by choice. Everyday she would wake up at seven o'clock sharp, eat a small breakfast and exercise before getting ready for the day ahead. Monday through Saturday she spent the entire day across the street from her flat at Book Classics where Adam had been able to get her a job. Most of the time she would be there from opening to closing and even then Mary, the owner, would have to insist that she leave. Sundays she spent reading the books she borrowed from the store and would eat dinner at Adam's home with his family. Those nights were the times when she felt the happiest. She felt at ease with Adam and could relax for those few hours. His children loved to have Hollie over. The oldest, Jennifer, was close to ten and never ceased asking questions, especially about Hollie's incredible story. Kevin, the middle child, had just turned seven and was shy and reserved. He would sit on her lap while Jennifer bombarded her with questions. The baby of the family, Timmy, was a mere three years old and loved to be given piggyback rides. Whenever Hollie would return home on those nights she had to soak in a warm bath to alleviate some of the stress on her back. 'It is only two more days until I get to see them again,' she thought to herself as stepped off the curb and into the street.
Hollie hated the short walk home, the anticipation of entering her empty flat. Opening her door she looked around her small, comfortable apartment. There was nothing out of place, as usual, because she liked everything to be in order. Her living room walls were simplistically white. The furniture was not to her liking but when the flat comes furnished there isn't much that can be done. A small brown couch and matching chair were placed in front of the tiny fireplace with a wooden coffee table and two wooden end tables. The end tables were not visible from the stacks of books and on the coffee table was a chess set, she could not resist buying when she spotted it while window-shopping, and her drawings. Whenever she finished reading an excessively large book or she had to wait until the morning to get a new one, Hollie would find herself doodling. Her sketches always consisted of the same things; lightning bolts; broomsticks; a large castle with many towers; a bow-legged, orange cat with a squashed face and yellow eyes; a tiny, gray owl swallowed up by a large hand; and the knight chess piece. She had no idea why those things had a particular meaning to her but drawing them seemed to make her feel better. No pictures adorned her walls or mantel and no mementos of birthdays, parties, Christmases or other happy times were anywhere to be found. They just simply did not exist which depressed her more than anything else.
She made her way into the kitchen that was off to the left of the living room. The walls were also white and had no decorations what so ever. The kitchen table was up against the wall on the left with four chairs, only one of which had any use. Although she visited Adam on Sundays, not once had she invited him over to her place. With the bare walls and the awkward feeling of the place she did not want anyone, especially him, to be aware of her loneliness. On the right were the stove, refrigerator and counter, all immaculate. Opening the refrigerator, Hollie took out lunchmeat, cheese and mayonnaise along with some lettuce and tomato. She then went to the breadbox and removed two slices of wheat bread. This was her normal dinner during the week, the only variation being the choice between ham, turkey and roast beef.
When 'dinner' was finished it was nearly nine o'clock. Deciding to go to sleep early she went into her bedroom. Unlike the other rooms, this room had color and reflected her personality. The room was done in a soft yellow with matching curtains and wall-to-wall beige carpeting. The bed was placed on the wall opposite the window and was covered in a pale yellow comforter with a red floral pattern. When she saw that comforter in the store she fell in love with it immediately and decorated the rest of the room to match. The dresser and night tables were the same make as the ones in her living room, having come with the flat. She went over to her dresser and extracted her pajamas. Hollie then moved to the bathroom adjacent to her bedroom to follow her nightly ritual. Her bathroom was done in yellow as well and was sparklingly clean. After changing into her pajamas, brushing her teeth thoroughly and washing her face she settled in bed and read until she drifted off to sleep.
~ ~ ~
Hollie's dreams were as predictable as the rest of her life. They rarely changed. She would relive the night of her attack at least once every night. Walking away from a large building, she would turn into a dark alley becoming aware of approaching footsteps behind her and would awake each time in a cold sweat just as the person touched her shoulder. These nightmares had been getting clearer as time went on.
Once in awhile a dream would cut through that gave her hope and an aching in her heart for what she must have left behind. She would find herself in a room full of red furniture, a large fireplace and numerous children. Although she could not see their faces she had a feeling they must have been her friends. When a set of large hands would cover her eyes from behind she would giggle and turn around slowly finding herself in the embrace of a tall man. Hollie loved this dream very much. Whenever those arms were around her she felt warm inside and completely safe. Each time the dream came to her the only thing she would remember about the man was his fiery red hair.
~ ~ ~
Saturdays at the bookstore were her favorite. The neighborhood children would come bursting through the door at ten for an hour of story time. They always lifted her spirit and she could not help but smile the entire time they were there. This particular Saturday it was Hollie's turn to read aloud to the youngsters. The wide-eyed six years olds were staring up at her as she told them about Clifford, the big red dog. When the story was finished one little girl, with blonde pigtails and bright green eyes, came up to her and rapped her arms around Hollie's leg. "Thank you, Miss Hollie," she cooed.
"You're very welcome, Cassie," she replied, bending down and scooping the little girl up into her arms. She handed Cassie to her mom and went around the room helping the children pick out books and saying good-byes.
Once all the children and their parents had exited the store Mary sent two employees home in anticipation of a slow workday. Hollie, of course, would refuse to leave so Mary never even bothered approaching her about the subject. Mary put Hollie to work restocking the shelves in the back of the store.
While she was replenishing the Fantasy section she heard the tinkle of the bell on the door indicating the entrance of a customer. Hearing Mary asking the person if they needed any help she turned her attention back to the job at hand until she heard the man speak. "I am looking for a book on the most common Mug-I mean the most common causes of death." The voice was silky and full of malice. She froze, her blood ran cold in her veins and her face drained of all color. She recognized the voice. Regaining her composure she poked her head around the corner and saw the back of the man. He was fairly tall, thin and had short blonde hair. When she noticed what he was dressed in her heart began to beat rapidly. He was sporting something similar to what she had been wearing when discovered. It was a long black robe with a hood, not the usual London attire.
Mary walked past the man to show him the section he desired and as he began to turn around Hollie quickly ducked behind the bookshelf to conceal herself from sight. There was something about the man that didn't sit well with her. Even though she desperately wanted to know who she was and what she had been before her accident, asking this person just did not feel right.
While the man was in the store she maneuvered around the shelves to keep herself hidden. After he paid for the book he had selected, Hollie approached Mary. "What book did that man buy?" she inquired.
Mary seemed deep in thought for a moment before responding. "It isn't like you to be curious about the reading habits of strangers."
Hollie sighed, "I know, but there was something familiar about him." After the words had left her mouth she regretted saying anything and wished to take it back.
"Hollie!" Mary exclaimed. "You remember something? Why didn't you talk to him?" The curiosity and enthusiasm over the situation depicted on her face was plain.
She was quiet for a second; she had to get her words precise. "I did not say I remembered him. There was just something that seemed familiar, but not in a good way," she quickly added. "It wasn't like a good memory, more like a bad perception."
"Oh," Mary said in a downtrodden tone. "Well, he bought Death in the Twentieth Century."
"How morbid!" she said. 'I wonder why he would want such a book,' Hollie thought.
"I know," Mary paused. "It talks about the most common causes of death such as cancer and heart attack, even car accidents and drug overdoses. I asked him why he was interested in the dark book. My guess was he probably has to do some sort of report for Medical School but he said it was a gift for his father."
Hollie contemplated what Mary had just posed. 'Maybe his father has some sort of disease and wanted to research it,' she considered. 'Yeah, that's it! There is no other possible explanation," she reassured herself. For the rest of the day the picture of the man kept creeping its way back into her thoughts.