HOLLOW – CHAPTER 19
Xavier didn't stop running until his legs burned and his lungs scraped raw. He hadn't planned on going this far. But when he looked up, the sky had changed color. Evening. The edges of town had thinned into silence. Out here, the world didn't notice him—and for once, that felt like a relief.
He slipped through a rusted fence behind an abandoned park. Broken swing set. Half a jungle gym. Graffiti older than the structure itself.
He dropped onto a warped bench, hunched over and shaking.
What had he done?
He hadn't even touched the spirit. Not really. It had come at him—clawing, laughing—and then it was just... gone. Like someone had pressed pause and delete at the same time. Then the flower. That strange thing blooming where nothing should've been. And the way Yuji looked at him afterward. Not afraid of the spirit—afraid of him.
And underneath it all, he could still feel it. That pressure. That pulse. Like the world had a heartbeat and—for one moment—it had matched his.
He hated that it had felt so right. So easy.
And worse—he wanted to feel it again.
Two blocks down, wedged between a dry cleaner and a boarded-up record store, he found it: a community center. The glass door was cracked at the corner, spiderwebbed from age or impact. But the lights were still on—dim and flickering.
There was no front desk. Just a long, quiet hallway lined with old murals. Rainbows. Raised fists. Faded hope.
Xavier walked in without slowing down.
He found a storage room at the back marked "Not in Use." The door creaked open. Inside: folding chairs, a few tables, a broken couch. He picked the floor. Back to the wall. Knees up.
The second he sat down, it was like his body gave up.
He didn't cry. Not because he didn't want to. He just couldn't find the place where crying started. Whatever was behind his eyes wasn't sadness. It was something heavier.
So he stayed there. Still. Quiet. Listening to the buzz of the ceiling light.
Waiting for morning.
Or for someone to find him.
Whichever came first.