Chapter 1 - Watched
Faces.
Everywhere he went--faces.
Not human anymore. Maybe once, before someone scooped out their eyes and carved their mouths into hollow grins. They still carried fragments of what they used to be: the curve of a cheek, the shadow of a smile. Just enough humanity to remind him of what they weren't.
They never spoke. Never blinked. Just stared, rigid, like mannequins dumped in the world's creepiest store display.
They lived in the shadows, or maybe the shadows lived in them. He wasn't sure anymore. He'd first seen them on his eleventh birthday--nearly passed out on the spot. Now, four years later, they were background noise. A curse becomes wallpaper if you stare at it long enough.
The mirror wasn't kinder than the shadows. A pale, thin boy looked back at him. Dark hair brushing his shoulders--too long, but he hated it shorter. Baggy jeans and an oversized hoodie swallowed his frame. Comfort over style. Always.
And the eyes. Hollow, black, ringed with bruised shadows like someone had taken a paintbrush and dragged exhaustion under his skin. The kind of face they'd slap on a "before" poster for a sleep-deprivation campaign. His personal favorite detail? Short. Because apparently life thought: 'let's see how many L's we can stack on one fifteen-year-old'.
"Kylo! Some boys are here to see you!" Aunt Carrie's voice floated up the stairs, sing-song sweet, like she was announcing cake.
He didn't answer. Of course she thought they were friends. As if Kylo had real friends. Still, ignoring her would only make her come knocking. So, with the enthusiasm of someone headed to their own funeral, he trudged down.
August sunlight cut through the curtains. Too bright. Too early. He already hated today.
At the door: four sixteen-year-olds, lined up like a budget boy band--if boy bands carried knives and unresolved anger issues.
"Did you seriously look up my address?" Kylo muttered, keeping his voice low. "You could've just... waited until school. Stalking me in the summer? Wow, guys. Dedication points."
The tallest stepped forward, the obvious leader. Buzz cut. Tattoos creeping up his neck. A sneer that had probably been practiced in bathroom mirrors. He looked like every cautionary tale about what not to become after high school.
"Don't tell me when, scum," the guy snapped. "I want my money. Now."
Kylo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine, fine. But not here. Let's... go somewhere else." The last thing he needed was Aunt Carrie-or worse, Uncle Cal-seeing this little parade of delinquency on the porch. Carrie would cry. Cal would worry. Neither of them deserved it.
"No," another boy said sharply. "You heard him. Hand it over."
Great.
They honestly thought he had six hundred bucks lying around? He barely scraped together lunch money most weeks. Maybe if he robbed a lemonade stand or two.
He toyed with the idea of slamming the door shut, but that'd buy him maybe three seconds before they kicked it in. Not a solid plan.
How the hell did I end up in this?
Oh, right. He stole three hundred once. From them. Somehow, their math doubled it-three hundred became six hundred, with interest in the form of rage. And now here he was, reaping what he'd planted.
Kylo scratched his neck, forcing a half-smile. "Well, the thing is-I don't keep money at home. Too risky. I keep it... elsewhere. Private. Safe. You know. Responsible."
Buzz Cut wasn't impressed. Arms crossed. Jaw tight. "If you had that kind of money, it'd already be in my hands." His voice dropped. "So take us there. Or we take it out of you."
Kylo slipped on his sneakers like a man fastening his own coffin lid. No use arguing. No version of this ended well. At least he could drag out the walk to his imaginary vault.
Running? Stupid. Fighting? Even dumber. He had the strength of a wet paper towel and the agility of a half-dead cat.
So he led them.
Not to money--he didn't have any--but to an abandoned warehouse he hadn't visited in years. Back when Elias--his only actual friendstill lived in town. Elias, with his crooked grin and bad jokes. Elias, who'd had to move away when they were both ten, thanks to the neighborhood's racism making life unbearable for his family.
Kylo hadn't stepped into that warehouse since. But today... well, today he didn't have much of a choice.
Reaching the warehouse, one of the guys muttered behind him, "Hah. This dump? You keep your money here? Safe, my ass."
Kylo didn't answer. He kept walking, shoes scraping against splintered planks, the air thick with dust and mildew. The warehouse sagged under its own age, a jagged hole torn in the side, maybe by termites, maybe by time. Hollow faces carved into the rotting walls stared back at them. Lovely. Always nice to have an audience.
His gaze drifted upward. A loft clung high above, a circular window framing a slice of gray sky. When he was little, he used to sit up there and watch the forest stretch for miles. Now, probably just rooftops and fences. Funny how memories felt like another universe.
Kylo stopped in the middle of the floor, head tilted at the window before turning back. The guys glared, impatience carved deep into their faces.
"Well? Where the hell's the money?"
He met the leader's stare with all the honesty and indifference in the world. "I dunno."
Silence dropped heavy. For a full beat, they just stared at him, as if the words had cracked reality. Then confusion snapped into fury.
"What the hell d'you mean you don't know?!" one of them barked. "You dragged us all the way here just to say that?!"
Buzz Cut lunged, fisting Kylo's collar, face blotched red. "You little--! If you don't cough up the cash this instant, I'll--"
A faint rustle sliced through the air.
All four froze. Even Kylo felt it--that low shiver of something off. Not a raccoon. Not a draft.
Buzz Cut's grip tightened. "What the hell is this? A trap?" He shook Kylo like a rag doll. "If this is some kind of-"
Another rustle. Louder. The threat strangled in his throat. His hand slipped from Kylo's hoodie as his eyes darted across the shadows.
Normally, Kylo might've enjoyed the break in violence, but a weight crawled down his spine. The warehouse air was too still, too charged. His instincts hissed-this wasn't some rabbit hopping around.
"Who's there?!" one of the others yelled, his bravado cracked by the tremor in his voice. Kylo noticed.
Buzz Cut snarled, barking into the dark. "Three seconds! One! Two--"
A black flash. Kylo blinked, and Buzz Cut was gone. Just gone. Kylo looked down. There he was, sprawled unconscious at his feet. His pulse jumped. Was he breathing? Or-
Two more shadows swept the room. Two more boys dropped, boneless on the boards.
Two at once?
The last one panicked, whipping out a knife, hands trembling. "S-stop! I-I have a knife!"
Kylo almost rolled his eyes, nerves and sarcasm tangling in his chest. Swinging a blade blind wasn't defense--it was desperation.
Another flash. The boy collapsed before his body finished falling.
Kylo's heartbeat ratcheted, panic sinking in sharp.
Then--cold. A blade kissed the side of his throat. Every muscle locked. A presence loomed behind him, silent, heavy, suffocating. His breath hitched.
"...Did you do this?" he whispered, eyes flicking to the unconscious bodies.
No answer.
"...Do you have anything to do with the hollow faces?"
Still nothing. Then a voice rang out from deeper in the warehouse. Calm. Steady. Commanding.
"Kylo Damaris. You are coming with us."
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Hey there! Author here.
I hope you enjoyed the first chapter!
Just to make things clear, Kylo's name is pronounced "kai-low".
Feel free to comment your opinions on this book. I'm open to any sort of reviews- good or bad- they help me improve the story, so don't hesitate to express yourself in the comment section.
Thank you for reading!
