Episode three
903 Words
Kylen’s POV
Kylen entered his room and shut the door behind him, the soft click echoing faintly in the quiet space. His room reflected his simple, controlled, yet undeniably elegant personality. A dark leather sofa sat neatly against one wall, untouched and perfectly aligned. At the center of the room stood a king-sized bed, its black bedsheet spread smoothly, without a single crease. On the other side was a walk-in closet, its glass doors faintly reflecting the dim lights of the room.
There was no warmth here. No signs of comfort. Only order.
He removed his wristwatch and placed it carefully on the bedside table, followed by his shoes. One by one, he shed his clothes until he stood in nothing but his briefs. His physique was sculpted to near perfection: broad shoulders, a defined chest, strong arms, and a set of well-earned abs carved from years of relentless training. Under different circumstances, he might have looked like a god carved from stone. But his eyes told another story.
A tired one.
He walked into the bathroom, the lights switching on automatically. Moments later, the sound of running water filled the air as steam slowly gathered against the glass walls. The cold night clung to him, but he welcomed it. Pain was familiar. Silence was not.
When he emerged, a towel hung loosely around his waist, droplets of water trailing down his skin and pooling at his feet. He walked into the closet, selecting simple house clothes, dark trousers and a plain shirt. Once dressed, he returned to the bed and lay down.
Sleep refused to come.
His mind replayed the night in fragments the hospital corridor, the pale girl lying motionless, her eyes empty yet haunted. The way her silence unsettled him. The way something about her felt disturbingly familiar.
Kylen turned to the side, then to the other, frustration building as his thoughts spiraled. Eventually, exhaustion claimed him.
Darkness followed.
Laughter echoed brightly.
A man dressed elegantly stepped out of a restaurant, his arm wrapped lovingly around a woman beside him. She laughed freely, her joy contagious. Between them walked an eleven-year-old boy, his small hand held securely by his mother. The boy’s smile was wide, his eyes full of innocence and excitement.
They moved toward a parked car nearby.
A bodyguard hurried forward and opened the door for them. The family entered, still laughing, still alive, unaware of the fate waiting just moments ahead. The engine started, and the car pulled away smoothly.
At first, the drive was calm.
Then something went wrong.
The driver suddenly stiffened, his hands tightening on the steering wheel as the car swerved dangerously. Panic filled the vehicle.
“What’s happening?” the woman cried, clutching the boy closer.
“I can’t control it!” the driver shouted, struggling desperately.
Headlights blinded them.
A massive truck rushed toward their car at terrifying speed.
There was no time to scream.
The impact was violent.
Metal twisted. Glass shattered. The sound vanished.
Silence.
Inside the wrecked car, blood streamed down the woman’s forehead as she forced her eyes open. Pain surged through her body, but instinct took over. With the last ounce of strength left in her, she pushed open the door. It creaked before finally giving way.
She crawled out, collapsing onto the cold road.
“Mama…” the boy whimpered weakly.
She turned back, dragging herself forward, her hands trembling as she pulled him from the car. Blood stained the ground beneath them.
“Stay here,” she whispered, her voice breaking.
She looked back into the car. The man inside was motionless.
“Honey,” she cried, crawling back in. “Wake up… please wake up.”
There was no response.
Suddenly, headlights appeared.
Several men stepped out of the shadows, their faces cold, their movements precise. Without hesitation, they poured fuel over the car.
“No!” the woman screamed.
A flame ignited.
The car burst into fire.
The heat was unbearable. The woman screamed one last time as the flames swallowed everything. The men turned away, leaving the unconscious boy lying on the roadside.
Abandoned.
Broken.
Alone.
Kylen jolted awake with a strangled gasp.
Sweat drenched his body, his breathing ragged as he stared blindly into the darkness. For a moment, he wasn’t a powerful man. He was that terrified boy again crying, shaking, calling out for his mother.
“Mom…” he whispered hoarsely.
His chest tightened painfully as tears burned behind his eyes. He clenched his fists, fighting the memories that refused to release him. Slowly, painfully, he forced himself to breathe.
Minutes passed before he could move.
He swung his legs off the bed and stood, his body heavy. Walking to the freezer, he grabbed a bottle of chilled water and drank deeply, the cold liquid helping steady his racing heart. When the bottle was empty, he set it down with a sharp clink.
Kylen walked into his closet.
He pushed aside rows of neatly hung clothes until his fingers brushed against the wall behind them. Pressing his thumb against a specific spot, a soft click sounded.
The wall shifted.
Panels slid apart smoothly, revealing a concealed glass door.
Kylen placed his palm against the scanner and entered several passwords in rapid succession. The door clicked open with a low mechanical hum.
Beyond it lay darkness.
And secrets.
The part of him the world was never meant to see.
- Writer
