The Hate Between Us, page 1
The Hate Between Us
Copyright © 2022 by Vera Hollins
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be utilized, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or mechanical methods, without the written consent of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in book reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Warning: This book includes sensitive themes and situations that may be triggering for some readers, so caution is advised.
Disclaimer: Katie is not a representation of all people with paraplegia. Each person with disability experiences their condition differently, and what applies to one person may not apply to the other with the same disability.
Edited by: Emily Junker
Formatted by: Champagne Book Design
Cover Design by: Rasha Savic
TABLE OF CONTENTS
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
PLAYLIST
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
EPILOGUE
AFTERWORD
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALSO BY VERA HOLLINS
To Casey, Katie and Jason’s very first fan. Thank you for all your support.
“Hate You”—Boston Manor
“Out Of This World”—Bush
“Dear Agony”—Breaking Benjamin
“Carnival of Rust”—Poets of the Fall
“Sleep”—Poets of the Fall
“Shouting Within”—Archive
“Pretty Good Year”—Tori Amos
“Desire”—Poets of the Fall
“Holding On and Letting Go”—Ross Copperman
“Many Lives”—Andrew Belle
“Kingdom”—Like A Storm
“Deep Love”—Mandalay
“All The Way / 4U”—Poets of the Fall
Have you ever felt the kind of pain that cuts deep into you, so deep it feels as though it brands you forever? The one that poisons your mind and locks you in a cage of misery? The one you carry like a tattoo, dark and blaring, like a memento from a time you wish you could erase but you’ll never be able to?
Only one moment is enough to shatter your life. To destroy your choices. To make you forget who you are.
I experienced mine that night—the night of the accident that changed everything for me.
One decision. Two flashes of light. Three seconds until everything turns into darkness.
And your life . . .
Your life becomes just a faint echo, drifting and senseless in the endless flow of time.
Today was the first day of my senior year. It was a day many looked forward to—as the last first day, it marked the start of our futures. For days, I’d been seeing posts about it by Lake Gate High’s students on social media. Everyone was excited to go back to school and see their friends.
But not me.
I just wanted to stay home and pretend time wasn’t rushing forward and mercilessly leaving me behind.
How could I look forward to school when everyone was going to put me under a microscope and judge me? I didn’t know what would be worse: the looks of pity or the looks of disgust they would give me once I got there. School had never been a place I was particularly fond of, but I liked it even less after the night that had changed my life.
For I was now the girl in the wheelchair. The weirdo. The freak.
The girl who was standing on the sidewalk when a drunk sixteen-year-old Caroline Adams hit her at high speed six months ago. The girl who lost consciousness that night and woke up in the hospital from a coma ten days later. The girl who found out consciousness wasn’t the only thing she’d lost.
My best friend, Dylan, who had developed something I called a “Katie low mood sensor” over the last six months, tried to cheer me up the whole way to school, but it was hard for me to even look away from the buildings we passed, let alone talk to her. It was one of those days when even breathing felt like work.
“It’s going to be alright,” she said as she stopped at a traffic light. She’d said that line so many times it sounded like her mantra now. “Everyone will be so busy swapping their summer vacation stories they won’t even notice you.” A big smile accompanied her statement, as if to underline it.
Typical Dylan. The world could be falling apart, and she would stay super optimistic. Usually, it worked on me, but not today.
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not wearing a giant neon sign that says: ‘I’m paralyzed.’”
“It’s not that bad.”
I gave her a wide look under my lashes.
“Okay, so you’re in a wheelchair. But it’s not the end of the world. They’ll get used to it. And so will you.”
I knew she didn’t mean anything bad by that last sentence. She just wanted to help me, but it hurt, nonetheless. How did you get used to the fact that you couldn’t walk anymore? How?
She pulled into her parking spot and went out to grab my wheelchair from the trunk of her Volvo SUV. I looked around the half-filled parking lot, not in a hurry to get out at all.
Some students were gathered in groups and talking animatedly to each other. They looked like they had no worries in the world, and it only added to the sinking feeling in my stomach. I could just stay here and refuse to come out.
Dylan wouldn’t let me do that, though. Attuned to my thoughts, she always made it her mission to pull me out of the dark place in which I now resided most of the time. She brought my chair to the passenger side door, but she didn’t open the door or offer to help me transfer, knowing I wanted to do it on my own.
I opened the door and, with a little bit of maneuvering, moved into my chair. I swung back the armrest and glanced around to see if anyone was already staring at me, but no one had noticed me yet. If only no one would ever notice me.
Dylan fist-pumped the air. “Okay. Let’s rock it.” She started for the school.
I told myself to keep my eyes on the ground, but there must have been something masochistic in me, because the moment I began to move, my gaze wandered over to the students standing nearby. As predicted, they switched their attention to me one by one, and my skin started prickling. I saw it—surprise, discomfort, revulsion, pity. All emotions served on the huge plate my life had thrown in my face.
Hushed whispers broke out almost immediately, and I felt grateful I’d had the forethought to leave my long hair down instead of pulling it up in a ponytail. It served as a perfect shield against the onslaught of attention.
I felt even more grateful when the sudden purr of a car engine drew their attention away from me and toward it, but that gratitude was short-lived when I saw who the newcomer was.
Jason Adams.
The guy who hated my guts.
Caroline’s brother.
My stomach clenched. He took his time killing the engine and getting out, taking off his shades. He drew even more looks, mostly from girls who didn’t hide how much they wanted him. He always drew looks, which came as no surprise since he was the hottest and most popular guy at our school. He had lots of girls vying for his attention, even though they would never get more than casual sex. Jason never dated.
Today, he wore all black—tee, jeans, and Converses—and his left wrist was adorned with a few leather bracelets. His clothes showcased his muscular chest and toned stomach, his tapered hips and long legs. I felt a tug of unwanted attraction deep in my belly.
Before the accident, I’d had a huge crush on Jason. He’d never noticed me, but that hadn’t stopped me from creating countless fantasies about him. He was over six feet tall, athletic-looking and with a face that belonged in front of a camera. His chin and jaw were artistically angular, in a way that made you want to run your finger along them and see if they felt as sharp as they looked. The rest of his face was equally proportional. His straight nose and high cheekbones were like a prelude to his beautiful brown eyes, which were equal amounts piercing and alluringly dark. They were the kind of eyes that stole the breath from your lungs the moment they looked at you. His good looks were topped off by his dark, ruffled hair that reached his ears and fell in a few strands over his forehead.
I was the total opposite of him. Withdrawn, average-looking, far from popular, and now in a wheelchair. Guys hadn’t given me the time of day before, and they sure as hell wouldn’t do so now.
I couldn’t resist staring at Jason as I moved across the lot. He’d stopped to talk to a group of girls, or should I say admirers, who had flocked to his car. He was in the drama club, having had leading roles in all the school plays for years, and was turning out to be a promising actor. He had both the looks and skills for it, and I didn’t doubt he would make waves soon enough.
As though he’d sensed me looking at him, he turned his head in my direction. My stomach gave a flip.
I whipped my gaze forward again, hoping he hadn’t caught me looking at him. Not that it mattered much, because I was already on his radar, his gaze speeding my heartbeat. I put more strength into my arms as I pushed the wheelchair, trying to increase the distance between us. I’d hoped to stay out of his sight for a while longer, but that obviously wasn’t in the cards anymore.
Our school was a red, two-story brick building that stood proudly amid acres and acres of land dotted with trees of various sizes and shapes that would soon turn charmingly red. The school was one of Lake Gate’s gems and reminiscent of the Victorian era. It had recently been renovated in anticipation of the centennial of its founding, which was coming in three months. It was certainly one of the most beautiful pieces of architecture the town possessed. But for all intents and purposes, it wasn’t quite wheelchair-accessible. Far from it.
A set of stairs led up to the main entrance, and the school had never bothered to install a ramp. That left me with the side entrance, but it was far away from the parking lot, and it would take me at least five more minutes to reach. My mom had talked to Principal Myers and criticized the school for the lack of accessibility for people with disabilities, but the bottom line was that it cost money they would rather spend on other things. Like organizing a huge centennial celebration that would be talked about for years to come.
I cast a long look at the main entrance, watching the students climbing the stairs with ease I’d always taken for granted. Not once in my life had I given importance to something seemingly so simple that was now an insurmountable mountain. But that was the thing with appreciation—you started truly appreciating something only after you lost it.
I tore my gaze away before my eyes filled with tears. Becoming a pathetic, crying mess before the school day even started was the last thing I needed.
“It’s good it’s zero-threshold,” Dylan said, motioning with her head to the side entrance.
Small mercies. Dylan had offered to help me any time, but I already felt like a burden enough.
“Lucky me,” I replied with no small amount of sarcasm.
Dylan moved aside so I could enter first, but before I could move closer to the glass door, a guy passed uncomfortably close to me, almost hitting me with his elbow in the process. He stopped and turned to face me.
My breathing faltered when I looked up and saw it was Jason Adams. He’d always been much taller than me, but now, as he hovered over me as I sat in my wheelchair, he seemed frighteningly huge. His dark eyes got even darker as he glared me, and I wished I could be anywhere but here.
Jason always used the main entrance, so the fact that he was here could only mean he was sending a message, and I got it loud and clear. I’d gotten it the moment he’d visited me in the hospital after the accident and told me he couldn’t stand the sight of me.
“Why don’t you do us all a favor and go back to wherever you came from?” he sneered.
Heat surged over my face. With one last look of derision, he opened the door and walked in. I moved behind him to hold the door open, but I shouldn’t have bothered because he made sure to slam it right in my face.
“That was so rude!” Dylan watched him leave with a frown.
I shrugged. “It could’ve been worse.”
I downplayed it, but the truth was, his attitude affected me. I’d told myself many times over the summer to get over it and forget about him, but seeing him in person only brought back all the suppressed feelings—indignation, pain, longing.
I wasn’t invisible to him anymore, alright.
Just not for the reason I’d always wanted.
The first three years of my high school life hadn’t been that memorable. Besides Dylan, I hadn’t had friends, and my interactions with others had been limited mostly to schoolwork and drama club assignments. I led a monotone life that consisted of studying, spending hours dreaming about becoming a world-famous actress, and acting invented roles within the four walls of my room.
The problem with becoming a world-famous actress lay in my low self-confidence, which prevented me from going all in for it. My looks also didn’t help. I wasn’t nearly as beautiful as actresses that got lead roles. Besides my unmemorable face, my hair was too wavy, going wild at the first gush of humid air. My pimples were too resistant, almost promising to never leave my face. My clothes did nothing for my looks—my family was too hard up to be able to afford me anything but a small collection of cheap and plain pieces. No one had given me a second glance at school. Least of all guys.
But now, as I made my way to English class and eyes turned to look at me, I wished I had that anonymity back. The urge to hide was almost overwhelming, and I willed my gaze to stay on the ground as I pushed forward, already counting the minutes until this day was over.
I eyed the zero-threshold with relief and took a deep breath before I entered the classroom. There were only a few students this early before the bell, but all heads turned to look at me, and I almost gave up and rushed back out. The desk that had been prepared for me was at the end of the first row, but it could’ve been miles away and it would’ve felt the same.
My classmates knew what had happened to me. I had been homeschooled after those few weeks I spent in the hospital, but Dylan had told me the news had spread at the speed of light in the week following my accident. It wasn’t every day that one of Lake Gate High’s students almost killed another student in a car accident. The news was even juicier because the student driving had been on the path of becoming a valedictorian, a member of Mensa, and had already snagged a dozen awards for her contribution to science. Everyone had been certain Caroline would take the world by storm.
But now she was in juvenile detention.
My heartbeat was deafening in my ears as I positioned myself behind my desk and reached for my backpack hanging off the chair handle. No one tried to strike up a conversation with me, which suited me just fine, until a guy took a seat next to me and gave my chair a long look.
He wiggled his brows with a grin. “You’ve got a license for that?”
I suppressed a groan. Really? He was so not funny or original, but I willed my lips to smile. “The last time I checked, yeah.”
He chuckled. “It must be nice to just sit all day. Where can I get one?”
I turned my head away to hide my grimace. His attempt at chitchat was tone-deaf. “I think you should stick to walking. Trust me on that.”
“If you say so. But I’m too lazy. Just ask my mom. She nags about it every day.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but Jason Adams came into the classroom just then, and whatever I’d wanted to say was obliterated from my mind. His hands were in his pockets as he surveyed the classroom, his gait slow and smooth. He always exuded confidence, and it was a kind that was interwoven with strength and power—a kind you couldn’t help but admire.
He smiled back at one girl sitting towards the back, but then he looked my way. He stopped, his smile fading away.
My heart began pounding in my chest, and I had to look away.
Just don’t come over here. Don’t talk to me. Don’t anything.
I exhaled a long breath when, after what felt like an eternity, he moved from his spot at the door and headed for the back of the classroom. Then the guy next to me had to go on and say loud enough for Jason to hear, “Hey, now I remember! His sister is the one who hit you. Wow, that’s so not cool.”
Shit.
Something shifted in the air. Tension filled the room, and my chest grew tight as Jason spun on his heel and walked over to us, wearing a murderous scowl.
“The fuck did you just say?”
The guy raised his hands in the air. “Man, I didn’t mean anything bad—”
Jason grabbed him by the collar and got in his face. “Mention my sister again, and you’ll have to eat from a straw.”
