The scream cut through the station like a knife, sharp and filled with agony.
Aaron and Sarah rushed out of the storage room, David close behind.
Gunfire erupted from down the hall. More screams. Officers shouting in confusion. Chaos.
Aaron's heart pounded as they rounded the corner—and froze.
Malcolm was on top of an officer, his face buried in the man's chest, tearing into his intestines with his teeth. Blood pooled around them, the officer's body twitching as Malcolm pulled out something wet and pulsing, ripping it apart with his bare hands.
His head snapped up, mouth dripping red. His eyes were gone, black pits of nothingness. His skin had stretched and cracked, veins turning dark beneath it.
David stumbled back, cursing. "Jesus Christ!"
Sarah's hands shook, but she raised her gun.
Bang! Bang!
Two clean shots to the chest. Malcolm jerked back, his head lolling unnaturally to the side. He twitched, then laughed.
A horrible, dry clicking noise escaped his throat. Not human.
Then he lunged.
Aaron fired next, emptying his magazine—but Malcolm didn't stop.
The creature that was once Malcolm moved unnaturally, bones cracking as he darted between them with impossible speed. He grabbed an officer by the head and crushed it against the wall, splattering the skull open.
"It's not dying!" Sarah shouted.
David swung wildly with a wooden baton he had found, but Malcolm caught it mid-air, snapping it in half.
That's when Father Matthias stepped forward.
"Step back," Matthias ordered, voice cold.
Aaron barely registered what happened next—Matthias moved too fast.
With one swift motion, he pressed his palm to Malcolm's forehead.
A low, inhuman screech echoed through the room. Malcolm stiffened, his body convulsing violently. His mouth opened in a soundless scream as black veins pulsed and spread from Matthias' touch.
Then, Malcolm collapsed.
The blackness in his veins retracted, his skin shriveling up, turning gray and brittle.
And then—he was gone. Nothing but dust.
The entire station fell silent.
Aaron, Sarah, and David stared at Matthias.
The priest exhaled slowly, adjusting his sleeve as if nothing had happened.
"That," Matthias said calmly, "is why I am here."
Aaron stood frozen, his gun still raised. His breath was shaky. Malcolm was gone, reduced to nothing but a pile of brittle, blackened dust.
Sarah's eyes flickered between the remains and Father Matthias, horrified.
David was the first to break the silence. "What the hell was that?" His voice was sharp, demanding, afraid.
Matthias adjusted his sleeve. "That was not Malcolm anymore. It was a Hollow One."
"Bullshit," Aaron snapped. He stepped forward, his grip on the gun tightening. "What did you just do? What the hell are you?"
Before Matthias could answer, Inspector Graves stormed into the room.
"What in God's name is happening here?" his voice boomed.
Officers were still in shock, some vomiting at the sight of the eviscerated bodies Malcolm had left behind. Others had their guns drawn, unsure whether to aim at Matthias or the dust.
Aaron turned to him. "Malcolm turned. He wasn't human anymore, sir."
Graves' jaw clenched. He looked at the scattered bodies, the blood, the dust. His face hardened, and for the first time, Aaron saw something rare in his boss's eyes—fear.
Sarah, still catching her breath, turned to Matthias. "You knew this would happen, didn't you?"
Matthias nodded slowly. "I warned you."
David scoffed. "Bullshit. No priest just walks in and kills a demon like that. What the hell are you really?"
Matthias studied him, silent. Then, finally, he spoke.
"I am the only one who has ever left Hollowbrook and lived to tell the tale."
Aaron's stomach tightened.
Graves let out a heavy sigh and turned to his team. "Everyone clear the bodies. No reports get out—this stays between us. Understand?"
There were murmurs, hesitant nods.
"And someone get the security footage," Graves added.
Sarah whispered, "Sir, do you think the cameras even picked up what we saw?"
The thought settled in Aaron's gut like lead.
Graves turned back to Matthias. "You're coming with us. You're going to tell us everything."
Matthias simply smiled.
"That," he said, "depends on how much you're ready to hear."
Chapter Ten – The Truth No One Wants
The interrogation room was dimly lit, the flickering overhead light making shadows dance on the walls.
Father Matthias sat calmly at the steel table, his hands folded in front of him. Across from him, Aaron, Sarah, and David sat with Inspector Graves standing behind them.
No one spoke at first.
Aaron's fingers drummed against the table. He had too many questions, but the one pressing the hardest was the simplest.
"Start talking."
Matthias tilted his head slightly. "Where would you like me to begin?"
David scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "How about what the hell just happened to Malcolm? Or maybe why you're able to just—" he mimicked Matthias' strange touch, "turn a monster to dust?"
Matthias nodded, almost amused.
"Malcolm was already lost the moment you found him," Matthias said plainly. "The Hollow Ones took him the second he stepped foot in their territory. You did not 'rescue' him. You only delayed what was inevitable."
Sarah's hands curled into fists. "Are you saying he was already… dead?"
Matthias exhaled, his expression unreadable. "Not dead. Hollow."
Aaron's jaw clenched. "And what the hell does that mean?"
Matthias tapped his fingers against the table, his gaze darkening. "It means that Malcolm was no longer himself. He was merely a shell. And when the time came, he shed what little remained of his humanity."
"Bullshit," David muttered.
Aaron shot him a glare before turning back to Matthias. "Why? Why did this happen to him?"
Matthias studied them carefully before speaking.
"Because he listened."
Sarah frowned. "Listened to what?"
Matthias leaned forward slightly. "To the whispers. The call of the Hollow Ones. You all will hear them too, in time. If you haven't already."
Silence.
Aaron's fingers tightened into a fist.
Because deep down… he had heard something. Faint. Just a whisper in his dreams. But he had ignored it.
He wasn't alone, was he?
He glanced at Sarah. She looked pale, almost sick.
David, for all his arrogance, looked shaken.
Graves finally spoke, his voice firm. "Then how do we stop it?"
Matthias laughed. A hollow, bitter sound.
"You don't."
Graves' eyes narrowed. "Then why the hell are you here?"
Matthias smiled again. But this time, it didn't reach his eyes.
"Because the cycle has already started."
Aaron felt a chill crawl up his spine.
"And this time," Matthias continued, "it will not stop with just Malcolm."
That night, Sarah couldn't sleep.
No matter how hard she tried, the moment she closed her eyes, she felt it—something watching her.
She lay in her apartment, the dim glow of the streetlights barely pushing back the darkness in her room. The city outside was alive, yet she felt completely isolated.
Then, the whispers started.
At first, they were soft, like wind slipping through cracks in the walls. But soon, they grew.
"Sarah..."
Her eyes snapped open.
She sat up, breath coming short. Her bedroom was empty, but the air felt wrong—heavy. Thick. Like something else was in the room with her.
Her heart pounded.
"Come back..."
The voice slithered through her mind. Not loud, but deep inside. Like it was a thought that wasn't hers.
Sarah squeezed her eyes shut. "It's not real. It's not real."
But when she opened them again…
She wasn't alone.
In the farthest corner of her room, where the light barely reached, a figure stood.
Tall. Shadowy. Its head tilted unnaturally.
Hollow eyes stared straight at her.
Sarah's breath caught in her throat. Her body locked in place, frozen in terror.
The thing didn't move. It just watched.
Then, its jaw unhinged.
"You hear us now."
Sarah screamed.
Her lamp crashed to the floor as she stumbled backward, reaching for anything to protect herself. But the moment she blinked—
It was gone.
The only thing left was the faint sound of laughter… coming from inside her head.