Chapter 20

twenty

As I stepped outside the next morning, my heart froze. There, nailed to the ancient oak tree in my backyard, was a mutilated rabbit. Its fur was matted with blood, and its eyes—gouged out, leaving only empty sockets. Carved into its tiny flank was the word "weak." It was a message, clear and grotesque, meant to taunt and provoke.

A surge of anger coursed through me, quickly replacing the initial shock. I felt my cheeks flush, and my hands curled into fists at my sides. I knew, without a doubt, that this was the work of the Hollowed Man. It was a challenge, a sick game designed to test my limits and push me further into the darkness that was slowly consuming me.

I took a steadying breath, trying to calm the furious beating of my heart. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me crumble. Instead, I would face this head-on, show him that I was strong, that I wouldn't back down.

With determination fueling my every step, I ventured into the woods behind my house. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I searched for clues, my eyes scanning the forest floor for any signs of disturbance. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the silence was oppressive.

And then I saw it. A smear of blood on the bark of a tree, leading me further down the twisted path. I followed the macabre trail, my heart pounding in my chest. The killer was taunting me, leaving a grisly breadcrumb trail for me to follow.

I quickened my pace, my eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of movement. The forest seemed to close in around me, the trees like silent sentinels, watching my every move. My breath caught in my throat as I spotted a fragment of fabric caught on a branch, the same material as the clothes I had seen on the killer. He was close, I realized, and the thought sent a shiver down my spine.

I continued to track the killer, my heart racing as the clues became more abundant. Bloody handprints on tree trunks, drag marks in the dirt, and, finally, a distinct set of footprints leading to a small, decrepit shack, hidden deep within the forest.

The shack was surrounded by shadows, and an eerie stillness hung in the air. I approached cautiously, my hand hovering over the rusted doorknob. As I pushed the door open, it creaked loudly, the sound echoing in the silent woods.

The interior of the shack was dark and musty, the only light coming through the cracks in the walls and the small, dirt-spotted window. I stepped inside, my eyes adjusting to the dimness, and I saw it—a tableau of horror.

Suspended from the ceiling, hanging by their feet, were three bodies. Their faces were covered with hoods, but I could see the dried blood caked on their arms and chests. They had been slashed, over and over, their bodies little more than canvases for the killer's demented art.

I recognized them. They were in the diner the first day I explored the town. Was it just a coincidence, or was he watching me even back then? The realization hit me like a physical blow, and my knees buckled beneath me. These were innocent people, lives cruelly cut short by this sick game.

I stood there, frozen, as the realization of what I was seeing sank in. The killer had hung them like trophies, a twisted display of their handiwork. Anger mingled with fear as I took in the horror of the scene. These people had been alive just hours ago, going about their day, unaware of the dark fate that awaited them.

My heart pounded in my chest as I scanned the shack for any signs of the killer. The air was heavy with the coppery scent of blood, and the silence was broken only by the soft creak of the hanging bodies. I knew they were dead, but my gaze searched for any hint of movement, any sign that I wasn't too late.

As I stepped further into the shack, my foot kicked something on the floor. I looked down and saw a small, charred symbol drawn on the wooden planks. It was familiar, and as I realized what it was, my blood ran cold.

The Hollowed Man had marked this place with the symbol of the Bone Keepers, claiming it as his own. It was a declaration of ownership, a taunt directed at me. My breath quickened as I realized the killer wanted me to find this place, to witness the horror he had unleashed.

Just then, I heard the faint sound of movement behind me. My heart leaped into my throat as I spun around, my eyes widening at the figure standing in the doorway. It was the Hollowed Man, his face hidden in shadow, the blade in his hand glinting in the dim light.

I backed away, my heart hammering in my chest. He moved with eerie grace, his steps deliberate as he advanced towards me. I could see the madness dancing in his eyes, and the hair on my arms stood to attention as I realized he was studying me, assessing me like a hunter would his prey.

His blade sliced through the air, a whisper of metal, and I barely dodged the attack. Pain flared in my still-healing body, but I forced myself to move, to stay out of reach.

He lunged again, his blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. I felt the wind of the blade as it passed by my face, and I stumbled backward, my heart pounding. He was toying with me, I realized, a chill running down my spine as I anticipated his next move.

I lashed out, kicking up dirt and debris as a distraction, and sprinted for the door. I had to get out, to put some distance between us, or I knew I'd never stand a chance. My legs burned as I pumped my arms, racing through the woods back toward my house, but a burning pain in my pelvis made me stumble, causing me to fall and tumble down a small slope.

The killer didn't say a word, but his eyes gleamed with anticipation and enjoyment. He was savoring this moment, and it sent a chill down my spine.

I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the protesting cries of my injured body. I had to keep moving, to put as much distance between us as possible. But as I turned to run, the Hollowed Man was already there, blocking my path. His blade flashed in the dim light, and I felt a sharp sting as it grazed my arm.

I cried out, more from surprise than pain. He was herding me further into the woods, away from any chance of escape. I could feel his eyes on me, watching my every move, and I knew he was savoring my fear.

Cornered and desperate, I searched for anything I could use as a weapon. My gaze landed on a fallen branch, and I lunged for it, brandishing it like a sword. He laughed, the sound sending shivers down my spine, and then he lunged.

I swung the branch wildly, connecting with his arm. He grunted, more in surprise than pain, and I took the opportunity to bolt, choosing a different direction from the one I had intended to escape. I had to lose him, or it was all over.

I burst through the trees and onto the path that led to my house. I could see the silhouette of the old building, a beacon of hope in this nightmare. I pushed myself to run faster, my heart pounding in my chest.

But then, as I drew closer, I saw movement in the shadows. My eyes widened as I realized it was Grayson, his eyes glowing with an unearthly light, standing protectively over the entrance to the old house. He had been waiting for me.

I skidded to a stop, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. I saw the Hollowed Man emerge from the trees, his blade glinting in the moonlight. He advanced towards me, his steps purposeful, and I felt trapped between two predators.

Grayson roared, the sound echoing through the trees. It was a primal sound, filled with rage and protection, and the Hollowed Man paused, his fun fading. In that moment, I knew that Grayson was my only hope, my only chance of survival.

The Hollowed Man lunged, his blade slicing through the air. But this time, Grayson was there, moving with inhuman speed. He collided with him, their bodies blurring as they struggled.

The force of Grayson's attack sent the Hollowed Man reeling backward. He stumbled, righting themselves before disappearing into the shadows. I stood there, my heart pounding, as I realized the Hollowed Man wasn't finished. The smile in his eyes haunted me, a promise of things to come.

Grayson stood in front of me, his eyes burning with an intense gaze. For a moment, we were motionless, catching our breath after the encounter. I felt a strange mix of emotions—fear, relief, and something else I couldn't quite name.

His touch was gentle as he reached out to me, and I flinched, unable to shake the memory of his previous assaults. But this time, it was different. His hand hovered as if he sensed my conflicting emotions, and he paused, waiting for my consent.

The moonlight shone on his mask, and I saw the determination in his eyes. He was offering me a choice, a moment of connection amid the chaos and terror. My heart hammered in my chest as I stared up at him, realizing that in this moment, he wasn't my tormentor, but my protector.

I knew that by accepting his touch, I was crossing a line, stepping further into the darkness that entwined us. But with the threat of the Hollowed Man looming, I found myself seeking comfort in the one person who seemed to understand the darkness that haunted me.

So, I nodded, giving him my silent consent. His fingers brushed mine, and I felt a spark pass between us. It was electric, a connection that spoke of shared trauma and an undeniable pull. As he pulled me close, his arms wrapping around me, I felt a moment of solace in the storm, and I knew that, for better or worse, my destiny was now irrevocably intertwined with his.