Hollow

Preface: August 3rd

         "It's going to be all right, Jane."
         I felt a gentle pat on my shoulder and a jolt of turbulence. The plane was moving, already in the air. Had I really been that out of it that I didn't notice the take off?
         The voice next to me spoke again, their tone full of remorse and empathy. "I really think you'll like living in Fayetteville. Granted, it's smaller than Tacoma, but it has it's little quirks."
         My Aunt Sage. Her voice registered in my brain suddenly and sharply, causing me to wince. I didn't respond; instead, I stared intently out the dark window.
         Traveling at night used to excite me---seeing all the twinkling lights so far on the ground, knowing I was so far up---but my excitement for this trivial high did not exist anymore, and I knew why.
         My parents were dead.
          It was hard to even think those words in the same sentence together. My parents were dead, and it was all my fault. If I'd just told them about my dream... if I'd just come to them and confessed that I'd had that premonition of the car crash... I mean, it’s not like I hadn’t had visions of things to come before. For some reason I’d always been able to see random things happening in the future, and usually I was able to put a stop to it if it were bad. This time, however…
         "Jane?"
         Aunt Sage was staring at me through her bright blue-green eyes. It was difficult for me to hold eye contact with her.
         "Jane?" she repeated.
         I raised an eyebrow in response to her worrisome babble. "Aunt Sage?"
         She folded her hands neatly across her lap, the corners of her mouth turned upward in the hint of a smile. For someone who constantly berated herself about smiling causing wrinkles, she did it a lot. "Baby," she started, "could you promise me something?"
         Oh, God. "What?"
         Aunt Sage sighed and hesitantly placed her right hand on my shoulder. I tensed slightly. "Promise me you'll be okay?"
         I didn't say anything at first, but I knew that I wasn't going to be okay. I knew that Aunt Sage wasn't going to be okay. After she’d heard the news about my parents when I called her that horrible July night, I’d noticed a changed in my aunt. Sure, she put on a front and most people thought that she was trying to bat away the grief that comes when someone close to you dies, but I was sure there was something else. So I knew that she wasn’t going to be okay, whatever else was bothering her.
         However, I also knew that she was trying to help me, and if pretending to be a tiny bit all right would ease a fraction of her worry, then I would at least give it a shot. "Fine," I said softly, noticing that Aunt Sage hadn't removed her hand from my shoulder. I didn't mind, though; Mom used to do the same thing to calm me down... for some reason, just the touch of her hand against my skin relaxed me, and my aunt's hand was having the same effect.
         God. My mother. She'd only been gone for a month, and already her face was trying to fade from my memory. I had to think extra hard just to picture her---the perfect woman. She always put her long blonde hair up in a messy bun, for convenience. I remember her saying to Aunt Sage that a woman should spend less time on her looks and more time with her kids.
         The memory caused me to smile crookedly, but then I quickly reverted back to scowling.
         My mother was dead, and I was smiling about some minute memory? I was sure that I would be going straight to the pits of hell.
         Turbulence.
         Dammit. I half hated flying because of the turbulence, but I loved it for the view. Every Christmas break, Mom and Dad and I would fly to North Carolina to visit Aunt Sage and her daughter Page (yes, she was named that on purpose), and I'd always sit in the window seat. Sometimes, Aunt Sage would fly back with us to stay for a few weeks in January, and I was touched that she still remembered my fondness for the window seat.
         I shifted my chair a bit, just to make sure that my butt wasn't going comatose, and turned my attention back to Aunt Sage. "Is Page picking us up?" I asked, my voice smaller than I'd intended for it to be. It caught me off guard, strongly reminding me of a dying mouse.
         Aunt Sage's face brightened, happy for the change of subject. "Yes, I told her to meet us at the baggage claim. Poor dear," she added in an amused way, "I do hope she doesn't get lost in the airport. Lord knows that daughter of mine has no sense of direction."
         Knowing all too well that Aunt Sage's words rang completely true, I grinned. "She has a cell phone, though. If she gets lost, I'm sure she'll call you."
         "If she remembers the right number," Aunt Sage muttered. "Sometimes I question Page's sanity."
         I quirked an eyebrow. "Don't you mean you question her memory?"
With a sly grin, she said, "That, too."
         Silence enveloped around the two of us, and I contentedly went back to staring out the plane window.
         I couldn't believe that it was already the beginning of August. I looked back, wondering how in the hell I'd gotten through July. Two funerals, two memorial services, custody and will hearings, not to mention me packing all my memories up in cardboard boxes and flying across the United States.
         Oh, and the nightmares. I kept seeing the car crash, just like I had before it had happened. I was afraid to fall asleep because I knew that once I was unconscious, I wouldn't wake until I heard the sound of my mother’s screaming.
         Aunt Sage tried, at first, to understand the nightmares, but she just couldn’t. She kept saying that once I was out of Tacoma and in a new environment the nightmares would cease, but I had the suspicious feeling that it wouldn't be that easy. I rested my head against the back of my seat.
         "You know," I heard Aunt Sage begin from beside me as another bout of turbulence was felt. "Maybe when we get in town, you and me and Page can go out and get some frappucinos or something. How does that sound, baby girl?"
         I didn't want to tell her that I thought her idea was stupid and all I really wanted to do was go back to my own home in Washington and cry, so instead I nodded. "Sounds fine," I told her. She always said that coffee cured everything.
         She smiled, and in that half a second I saw my mother smile through her. It was almost comforting. "Good," she said, probably finalizing the plans in her head.
         The silence granted me time to think about Fayetteville. Fayetteville, North Carolina. My new life. I would be starting my junior year there soon without the comfort of my old school. Would I like it there? Would I make any friends? I didn't have many friends in Tacoma as it was, but still. Generic, stupid questions filled my head, including ones about boys and whether I'd be popular or not.
         I glanced down at my lap and exhaled slowly. From that moment, I knew my life was going to be different. I was no longer a child; in a month I'd had to mature in order to survive the grief. When Aunt Sage had revealed that my mother's will had requested for her to become my legal guardian---and moving to North Carolina broke into the picture---I was resigned to accept whatever changes would have to be made.
         What I wasn't expecting, however, was for someone to enter my life and show me who I really was, someone who would help me change my ill-fated destiny.
         What I wasn't expecting was Erik Leroux.