Crimson Hollow

Prologue The silhouettes of two figures could be seen in the dark hallway. A man stood beside a woman, his face almost completely concealed by the shadows. What little could be seen revealed a grim expression, his features still enough to make the darkness around him feel even heavier. The hallway was quiet. Too quiet. The only sound was the faint ticking of an old clock somewhere in the distance. The woman standing beside him wore a veil that concealed most of her face. Her skin was pale, and her fingers trembled as she spoke in hushed tones. “I have been trying. She seems…” She trailed off, swallowing hard. “Fine,” she added quickly. Her eyes remained lowered. She didn’t dare look at him for too long. The smell of her fear was almost palpable in the air. “Good.” His voice was calm. Scarily so. “Don’t forget to give them to her every day.” The woman’s fingers tightened around the fabric of her dress. “I won’t.” His grim expression slowly gave way to a sinister smile. She preferred the grim expression. She shook even more as she prepared to take her leave. She had barely taken a step when his voice stopped her. “And oh…” She froze. He didn’t move. “You know what happens when you mess up, right?” He was still smiling. Somehow, it was even more sinister now. Predatory. The woman slowly turned her head. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, with the last shred of courage she could muster, she gave a shaky nod. “Yes.” She hurried away from him, her footsteps echoing through the empty hallway. He watched her disappear into the darkness. The smile never left his face. Fawn’s POV I sat by my bedroom window, watching the rain fall over the familiar streets below. The droplets clung to the glass before sliding down in crooked little trails, catching the grey light like tiny crystals. I had always loved the rain. There was something about it that made the world feel quieter, calmer. Today, though, I loved it for another reason.It was buying me time. At least one more day. I had spent years building a life here. It wasn't perfect, but it was mine. I knew which café Poppy would drag me to after school, which teachers hated late assignments, and which streets were safest to walk down after dark. I knew where I belonged. I rested my forehead against the cool glass and stared at the streets I had known for as long as I could remember. The roads were wet and nearly empty, and the shops along the street were already closed for the afternoon. Usually, John and Jeremy, the middle-school twins I babysat whenever I was free, would have been playing in their garden right across the street from our house. They were stubborn little things, but they were lovely, and everyone knew I was their favourite person. Their mum, Anna, a petite, middle-aged woman who owned the café down the road where Poppy and I often went, always had something saved for me whenever I stopped by. The houses were arranged neatly by the streets, most of them were kept in shape, but still had traces that showed they were worn out, it wasn’t exactly a rich neighborhood, but it was clean and organised. Everyone knew everyone. Everyone looked out for everyone. It felt like family. And yet, by tomorrow, none of it would be mine anymore. And without so much as a proper goodbye, my heart sank. Mum had decided we were moving. Not next week. Not next month. Today. She said we were going to her hometown. She called it a fresh start, a new chapter, and promised that I would love it there. I wasn't convinced. How could I possibly love a place I had never even seen when I was leaving behind everything I knew? My school. My friends. The book club I had spent months building into something people actually cared about. Poppy. And Zayn. Especially Zayn. I swallowed hard. I didn't want to think about him. Thinking about him made leaving feel real. A soft knock came from my bedroom door. “Fawn?” I turned. Mum stood in the doorway, one hand resting against the frame. She looked like she had been standing there for a while. I must have been so lost in my thoughts that I hadn't noticed her. “Get ready. We're leaving.” I stared at her. “What?” “I've already moved the boxes downstairs.” My heart dropped. “But…” I glanced towards the window. “It's raining.” There was a long pause. I looked at her, waiting for a response. Her beautiful face was marred by a frown, and there was something else in her expression that I couldn't decipher. “Yes, I can see that,” she finally said, rolling her eyes as though she hadn't noticed the storm until I pointed it out. I stared at her. I looked nothing like her. She had blue eyes, jet black hair and pale skin, the last of which was probably the only feature we shared. She was beautiful. I had green eyes and red hair that she always said was too bright. Sometimes, after a few glasses of wine, she would tell me that I had my father's exact face. It made me wonder sometimes if she resented me for it.She barely spoke about him, and whenever I brought him up, she would become angry. “We can't possibly drive through this,” I said, my voice rising. “Can't we just wait until tomorrow?” “No.” The answer came so quickly that I almost forgot what I was going to say. “Mum…” “We're leaving today, Fawn.” “But why?” She didn't answer. I pushed myself away from the window. “What's so important about getting there today that you're willing to put us on the road in this weather?” Mum was the first person to lecture me about being careful. She wouldn't let me cross the road without looking both ways twice. She hated when I stayed out too late. She was always telling me that nothing was more important than keeping ourselves safe. So why was she suddenly acting as though getting to that place was more important than anything else? For a moment, something flickered across her face. Fear. It disappeared almost immediately. “Be downstairs in thirty minutes, Fawn.” She looked exasperated now, which was strange for someone who was supposedly excited to revisit her hometown, the place she always spoke about as if it were still her life. She turned before I could ask another question. “Mum!” She stopped at the doorway but didn't look back. “Please,” I whispered. “Can we just stay one more day?” There was a long silence. Then she said quietly, “No.” The door closed. I stood there staring at it. A second later, my legs gave out beneath me. I sank onto the floor beside my bed, resting my back against its side, staring at the beige walls that had surrounded me for years. My canopy bed stood in the center of the room, exactly where it always had. My books were scattered across the desk, and pictures of Poppy and me were pinned above it. One of them caught my attention. It was a random picture Poppy's mum, Malissa, had taken of us after a day at the park. Our faces were smudged with dirt, our hair was a mess, and we both wore identical smiles. I stared at it for a moment before wiping a stray tear from my face angrily. This was my room. My home. My life. And Mum had decided that none of it mattered anymore. I reached for my phone. There was a message waiting for me. Zayn: Are you still coming tomorrow? My throat tightened. I stared at the screen for a long moment before typing. Me: I don't think so. The three dots appeared almost immediately. Then disappeared. Then appeared again.I didn't open the next message. Instead, I looked back towards the window. The rain was still falling. For some reason, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was going to miss this place more than I could possibly understand. And somewhere far away, in a town I had never seen, my life was already changing.