Crimson Hollow

Chapter Three

“Fawn, take a deep breath!” a hysterical voice yelled. There was darkness everywhere.

“Damn it, I’m not going to lose you. Take a deep damn breath!” The voice was screaming now.

Mum.

I could hear her. I could smell her. Her hands were frantic on my shoulders.

I opened my eyes slowly, dazed. Everything was blurred and confusing. What happened?

I heard Mum let out a ragged sigh of relief before I managed to focus on her. I was out of breath and drenched in a cold sweat.

My eyes adjusted to my surroundings. My bedroom. I was lying on the floor, and Mum was bent over me, her eyes red-rimmed. Had she been... crying?

“You passed out,” she explained, her voice trembling slightly before settling into a forced calm.

“I passed out?” I croaked.

And right on cue, everything came running back to me.

We were leaving.

The room was trashed.

My name scribbled across the wall in…

“Oh no!” I gasped, jerking myself upright. A sharp, blinding pain shot through my skull, but I shoved it aside. “Mum, tell me what is happening!”

I scrambled up and looked around. The room had been hastily cleared, but the jagged lettering was still painted on the wall. It was smudged, clear evidence that Mum had tried frantically to scrub it off and failed.

How long had I been out?

Mum was staring at me now, her expression guarded and calculating.

“Let’s leave here first,” she said firmly. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know once it’s safe.”

Safe? Her wording didn’t go unnoticed.

Everything I need to know? What did she mean?

She must have realized I wasn’t going to move an inch without an answer, because she quickly added, “Fawn, this is hard on me too. Please, let’s just go. I’ll tell you everything when we get there.” She paused, looking completely drained. I couldn't even imagine what she had gone through while I was unconscious. “Please,” she pleaded softly.

I let out a heavy sigh and conceded, allowing her to pull me out of our old house.

It didn’t feel like home anymore. Nothing did.

Outside, the rain had stopped, but the air was still humid and the streets were still wet. There was barely any sign of life around us.

Maybe it’s better this way, I thought numbly as I sank into the passenger seat, the dull throb in my head refusing to ease up. Who likes messy goodbyes anyway?

The last thing I heard was the engine roaring and the tires skidding onto the wet asphalt before I closed my eyes and allowed sleep to take over me.

I woke up hours later to see it was dark.

Mum was still driving with steady focus, She looked exhausted. I sat up and peered out the window into the unfamiliar night.

“We’re about five minutes away,” Mum offered quietly, as if anticipating my question.The night air was tense. I nodded, even though I knew she couldn't see it, and pressed my face against the glass to take in our surroundings.

The buildings passing by were tall, crafted from massive dark stone. They looked ancient, and undeniably expensive, like something ripped straight out of a gothic fantasy novel.

Up ahead, a weathered landmark sign emerged from a dense overgrown trees, bushes, and weeds. I squinted, trying to read the fading text carved into the wood:

HOLLOW RIDGE

The sign was so worn and hidden that if I hadn't been staring directly at it, I would have missed it entirely.

It almost looked as though it was meant to be missed.

What a weird name, I thought to myself.

Beside me, Mum began humming a quiet melody. The rigid posture she’d held all day finally relaxed.

“We’re finally here,” she murmured as we crossed past the sign.

“This is where we’re going?” I asked, watching rows of trees as we passed by. There was zero sign of human life.

After about thirty minutes, I began to see more buildings in the distance. The weather was extremely humid, and a thick fog had begun to settle over everything.

The stone buildings I’d thought were tall, back at what I assumed was the outskirts of the town, were nothing compared to what I was seeing now.

They were of ancient historical stonework and sleek modern architecture, crafted from polished, dark colored stone that shone beneath the fog.

The topmost parts were almost hidden inside the thick fog. And every single one looked identical.

Mum finally pulled up to the driveway of one of the massive stone estates and killed the engine. “We’re here now,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt.

This was getting weirder by the second. I hadn’t seen a single person on the streets—though I tried to convince myself it was just because of the late hour.

“Where is 'here'?” I asked, my voice laced with suspicion.

Whenever Mum talked about her hometown, she always gushed about how warm and welcoming the people were. She’d conveniently left out the part where everyone lived in imposing stone fortresses.

Or that the town carried such a weird name.

Hollow Ridge.

“This is my house,” she explained, holding her seatbelt and waiting for me to copy her.

I didn’t budge.

“Well, my family’s house,” she corrected herself softly. “It’s yours too now, Fawn. Everything that is mine is yours.” She opened her car door and stepped out, resting one hand on the roof as she looked back at me, expecting me to follow.

“That wasn’t what I asked, Mum,” I snapped.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled heavily. “You asked, and I answered.”

“That’s not an answer!”

“Get out, Fawn. I don’t have time for this right now.” She slammed her door shut and rounded the hood to my side, her eyes flashing with a stern warning that dared me to argue further.

“Here goes nothing,” I muttered under my breath.

I pushed my door open and stepped out into the heavy, mist-laden air.

The estate was surrounded by dense woods, but the manicured lawn and garden directly in front of the house were green trimmed to perfection, almost unnaturally so for a place surrounded by wild forest.

I followed Mum up the stone walkway and through the towering double doors of the mansion.

It was a palace. Everything inside practically screamed unimaginable wealth. We walked straight into living room. The furnishings looked custom made, and mounted on the wall was a television unlike anything I had ever seen, completely transparent and so thin it almost looked painted onto the polished stone wall.

Suddenly, the rich, mouth watering scent of grilled meat hit my nose. My stomach let out a loud, traitorous growl, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten a single bite all day. I flushed, praying Mum hadn't noticed.

She had.

But before she could speak, heavy footsteps echoed from the grand hallway deeper inside the estate.

A woman who appeared to be in her late forties stepped into the grand hall. Her dark brown hair was streaked with elegant silver, tied up in a flawless bun. She was striking, with sharp, regal features, and something about her face was terrifyingly familiar.

She looked remarkably like...

“If it isn’t my prodigal daughter,” the woman spoken, her voice dripping with sharp authority. Her gaze slid over Mum before locking squarely onto me, her eyes sparkling with something dangerous. “And do tell... is this my granddaughter?”

Mum froze beside me, the color completely draining from her face. I glanced at her, shocked to see pure terror in her eyes.

The older woman’s sharp gaze pinned me to the spot.

“Is she one of us?”