The hollow ones

The man sat motionless in the interrogation room, his hands resting on the metal table as if he had forgotten they were his. He didn't blink. Didn't shift in his seat. The only sign he was alive was the slow, almost mechanical rise and fall of his chest.

Dr. Eleanor Grayson had seen trauma before. She had spent years peeling back the layers of the broken and the disturbed, trying to understand what lay beneath. But Jonas Blackwood was different. He wasn't just broken—he was vacant.

The silence stretched between them, thick and unmoving, pressing against the walls of the small, dimly lit room. Ellie studied him carefully, waiting for some flicker of emotion, some involuntary twitch that proved there was still a man inside that husk of a body. But there was nothing.

She flipped open the case file on the table, her eyes skimming over the details she already knew by heart.

Date: March 4th

Location: Remote farmhouse, outside Denver

Victims: Twelve, all found in a circular formation

Cause of death: Unknown

Suspect: Jonas Blackwood—discovered at the scene, covered in blood

The crime scene photos were laid out in front of her, stark black and white images that showed bodies twisted in unnatural positions, their faces frozen in expressions of absolute emptiness. The walls of the farmhouse had been marked with strange symbols, drawn in what the forensics team suspected was human blood.

Ellie pushed the photos toward Jonas, watching for any reaction.

"Do you recognize these people?" she asked.

He didn't answer. Didn't even glance down.

"Jonas," she tried again, keeping her voice steady but firm. "You were found in the middle of this scene. You must remember something."

A long silence passed before he finally spoke.

"We opened the door."

His voice was barely above a whisper, but it sent a chill skittering down Ellie's spine.

She frowned. "What door?"

This time, he moved. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted his right hand and placed it over his chest.

"They took everything," he murmured.

Ellie leaned forward. "Who took everything?"

Jonas turned his head toward her. His eyes, dark and unfocused, locked onto hers. For a split second, she swore she saw something shift behind them, something deep and hollow, as if she were staring into an abyss that had no end.

Before she could press further, a sharp knock at the door startled her.

Ellie hesitated, glancing back at Jonas. His eyes had changed again—emptier, if that were even possible.

"I'll be right back," she told him, though she wasn't sure why she said it.

She stepped into the hallway, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead. Detective Sam Harris stood there, his expression grim, a file tucked under his arm.

"We just got the coroner's report back," he said without preamble.

Ellie folded her arms. "And?"

Sam rubbed a hand over his face. "Those bodies in the farmhouse… No external injuries. No poison. No cause of death." He let out a breath. "It's like something just took them."

Ellie frowned. "Took what?"

Sam hesitated, his jaw tightening. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, as if he was afraid to say the words out loud.

"Their souls, Ellie." His gaze flicked toward the interrogation room. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say those people were hollow."

A chill spread through Ellie's chest, slow and suffocating. She turned back toward the small window of the interrogation room, expecting to see Jonas sitting there, motionless as before.

But the chair was empty.

Jonas Blackwood was gone.

The Vanishing

Ellie's breath caught in her throat.

Jonas Blackwood had been seated in that chair less than thirty seconds ago. The room had only one door, and she had been standing right outside it. There was no way he could have left—no sound, no movement, no explanation.

But the chair was empty.

Forcing herself to move, she shoved the door open and scanned the interrogation room. The metal table was still bolted to the floor, the case file still resting where she had left it. The walls were smooth concrete—no vents big enough for a person to crawl through, no hidden exits.

Jonas was simply… gone.

Sam cursed under his breath. "What the hell—?" He rushed inside, checking under the table as if Jonas might somehow be crouching beneath it.

Ellie turned, scanning the hallway, but it was empty except for the usual hum of the station at night—muffled voices from the bullpen, the occasional ring of a desk phone.

"He couldn't have just disappeared," she muttered, more to herself than to Sam.

Sam's face was pale, his usual skepticism shaken. "Maybe he had a key or—hell, I don't know, Ellie. People don't just vanish."

Ellie took a slow, deliberate breath, trying to steady the unease crawling through her. Jonas had been in that chair, staring at her with those hollow, unreadable eyes. She had felt something watching her, something wrong.

And now, he was gone.

A security officer jogged toward them from down the hall, his radio crackling. "Detective Harris—uh, we got a situation."

Sam turned. "Don't tell me—"

"Blackwood's on the cameras," the officer said, eyes darting between them. "But you're not gonna believe what it shows."

The Footage

Minutes later, Ellie and Sam stood in the cramped security office, staring at the grainy black-and-white footage on the screen.

The timestamp read 10:43 PM—the exact moment she had stepped into the hallway with Sam.

In the footage, Jonas sat completely still, his hands on the table. Then, without warning, the screen flickered.

And he was gone.

No movement. No transition. One frame he was there—the next, the chair was empty.

Ellie's skin prickled. "Play it again."

The guard rewound the footage and let it roll. The same thing happened. One moment, Jonas was sitting in the chair. The next, he had vanished.

Ellie's mouth felt dry. "That's not possible."

Sam ran a hand through his hair, his usual composure slipping. "This some kind of glitch?"

The officer shook his head. "I checked the feed. No interruptions. It's like he just… stopped existing."

Ellie leaned in, staring hard at the flickering frames. "Rewind to the moment before he disappears."

The guard complied, pausing on Jonas's last visible second.

Ellie inhaled sharply.

Just before he vanished, Jonas had looked up—not at the camera, but at something above him. His lips had parted, forming a single, silent word.

Her pulse hammered. She could barely make it out, but she was certain of what he had said.

"They're here."

The Cold Spot

A tense silence filled the room.

Ellie turned away from the screen, her mind racing. Jonas hadn't escaped. He hadn't left through the door. He had… disappeared. As if something had reached in and pulled him out of existence.

Her gaze flicked to Sam, but his face was unreadable.

Then, she felt it.

A chill.

The room was warm—too warm, actually, from all the electronics running at once. But where she stood, just a step away from the monitors, the air had gone ice-cold.

Slowly, she turned her head toward the darkened doorway behind them.

Something was standing there.

She didn't see it—there was nothing in the doorway but shadows. And yet, she felt it. A presence. A void where something should be.

Her breath came shallow and slow.

Sam shifted beside her. "Ellie?"

She swallowed. "Do you feel that?"

His brow furrowed, but before he could answer, the lights in the security room flickered. The monitor screens distorted for a second, static crawling over them like grasping fingers.

Then, just as suddenly, everything returned to normal.

The coldness was gone. The shadow in the doorway—if it had ever been real—had disappeared.

Sam exhaled and rubbed his temples. "Jesus. This case is already giving me a headache."

Ellie didn't respond. She wasn't sure what she had felt, only that it had noticed her.

And for the first time in her career, she wasn't sure if she was investigating Jonas Blackwood… or if something else was investigating her.

---

End of Chapter 1.