The Mother of The Hollow

chapter 01: messy child

Max's POV:

The room smelled of iron and death. Kai's shallow breaths were the only sound, raspy and uneven. He lay on the table, his body a patchwork of blood and bruises, his life leaking out onto the cold, steel surface.

I didn't feel sorry for him. I didn't feel anything, really. This was just... necessary. I glanced toward the doorway. She was there again-the woman in the pink heels, her silhouette outlined by the dim flicker of the overhead light. Her presence sent chills through me, but not because I feared her. It was the way she moved, deliberate and confident, as though she owned every molecule of air in the room.

Lucy.

She wasn't the same as before. The warmth that once radiated from her had been replaced by something sharp and cold, like a blade pressed against my throat. Yet, when she handed me the tools-a scalpel, a pair of pliers, a bone saw-her touch - was gentle, almost tender. "You'll need these," she murmured, her voice soft but void of emotion. I nodded, taking the tools from her hands without a word. My fingers trembled as I laid them out neatly on the tray beside me. "Don't drag it out," Lucy added, her tired brown eyes flicking to Kai's broken form. "He doesn't deserve the mercy of time." Then, she was gone, her pink heels clicking against the floor as she disappeared into the shadows.

Kai coughed, blood bubbling from his lips. He tried to speak, but his words were garbled, unintelligible. I leaned over him, my face inches from his. "Shh," I whispered, brushing a strand of hair from his bloodied forehead. "You're going to make this harder than it needs to be." His eyes widened, the realization finally sinking in. "Max..." His voice was weak, barely a whisper. I smiled sweet and innocent, the kind of smile I used to give him when he teased me in front of the others. "You always thought you were untouchable, didn't you?" I cooed. "Always so smug, so sure of yourself. But look at you now."

I picked up the scalpel, its blade gleaming under the harsh light. "Lucy wouldn't want this," he croaked, his voice trembling. My smile faltered, just for a second. "Don't you dare say her name," I hissed, pressing the scalpel against his skin. "You don't get to talk about her." The first cut was shallow, just enough to make him scream. The sound echoed in the small room, bouncing off the walls and filling the space with his agony. I worked methodically, each incision precise, each movement calculated. His screams became weaker, his struggles more feeble, until finally, he was silent.

When it was done, I stood over his lifeless body, my hands slick with blood. The room was silent now, save for my own ragged breathing. Lucy reappeared, her heels clicking softly as she entered the room. She surveyed my work with a critical eye, her lips curving into a faint smile. "You've done well," she said, her voice like velvet. I looked at her, my chest heaving. "What now?" She didn't answer. Instead, she stepped forward, her heels echoing loudly in the silence and placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Eat," she said simply.

My stomach growled in anticipation, my hands already reaching before she even finished the word. The hunger-the need-was a fire that roared in my chest, one I couldn't ignore even if I wanted to. But I didn't want to.

I wanted this.

The scent of blood, metallic and warm, filled my nose as I tore into what was left of Kai. My teeth sank into his flesh, the taste flooding my senses. It was rich, almost intoxicating, and for a moment, I forgot the room, the pain, the emptiness in my chest. All that existed was this-the taste, the satisfaction, the warmth spreading through me with each bite.

Lucy stood nearby, silent, her presence grounding me. Her tired brown eyes never left me, watching as I devoured him with a fervour that should've frightened me. But it didn't. I wasn't ashamed. I didn't need to be, not with her.

When I finally pulled away, my face and hands smeared with blood, I glanced up at her, waiting for her reaction. She didn't look disgusted. She didn't look disappointed. Instead, she knelt beside me, her movements calm and deliberate, like a mother tending to a messy child. "Hold still," she murmured, pulling a clean handkerchief from her pocket.

I sat frozen as she gently wiped the blood from my face, her touch careful and patient. The fabric was soft against my skin, and the gesture was so tender that it made my chest ache. No one had ever done this for me-not like this. "Your hands," she said softly, holding out her own. I placed my trembling hands in hers, letting her clean them one by one, her fingers steady and sure. The blood disappeared under her care, leaving my skin spotless, but her touch lingered, soothing the lingering hunger that simmered beneath my surface.

When she was done, she cupped my face, her thumbs brushing against my cheeks. "Good girl," she said, her voice low and warm. The words sent a rush of pride through me, and I leaned into her touch, craving more of the affection she gave so sparingly.

For the first time in forever, I felt seen. I felt safe.

She stood, offering me her hand. "Come," she said, her voice as steady as ever. "We have work to do." I took her hand without hesitation, my grip firm, strong. As I stood, she smoothed the wrinkles from my shirt, her fingers brushing away stray flecks of blood I'd missed. It was such a simple gesture, but it meant everything.

We stepped over Kai's remains together, his blood pooling beneath the table, but I didn't feel regret. I didn't feel anything for him.

Lucy's heels clicked against the floor, the sound rhythmic and comforting, like the steady beat of a heart.

And I followed her, not as the girl I was before but as someone new. Someone she'd shaped with her hands, her care, and her quiet approval.

In her shadow, I found my place. And I would follow her into the darkness without hesitation.