Evil Still Runs in My Veins

The morning sunlight felt different now. Its warmth touched Isaac’s skin, but it failed to reach the cold void inside him. He stood at the edge of Hollow, staring at the horizon where the fields met the sky. The distant hum of life—birds singing, leaves rustling, children laughing—barely registered.

The fight was over, but the battle raged on within him.

Isaac clenched his fists, staring down at his hands. They looked normal—calloused from years of holding a badge, a gun, a blade. But he knew the truth. Beneath the surface, something vile lingered, clawing at the walls of his mind, whispering in his ears.

“You can feel it, can’t you?” the voice said, soft and seductive.

Isaac flinched, his jaw tightening. He had destroyed the creatures, severed their connection. So why did their voices still echo in his head?

---

Back at the motel, Isaac paced the room like a caged animal. Every step was heavy, his mind replaying the horrors he had witnessed—the blood, the screams, the faces of those he couldn’t save. The room felt smaller with each passing second, the walls pressing in, the shadows growing longer.

He sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair. In the cracked mirror across the room, he saw his reflection staring back at him. His face was pale, his eyes hollow. And then, for a brief moment, the reflection smirked—a cruel, mocking grin that didn’t belong to him.

Isaac threw a lamp at the mirror, shattering it into shards. He stared at the broken glass, his chest heaving.

“Get out of my head,” he growled.

But the voice didn’t leave.

---

Later that evening, Isaac found himself walking the streets of Hollow. The town had begun to recover, its people returning to their routines, oblivious to the battle fought beneath their feet. Children played in the alleys, shopkeepers called out to customers, and the faint scent of fresh bread wafted from a bakery.

But to Isaac, it all felt… wrong.

The laughter was too loud, the colors too vibrant, the world too alive. He felt like a ghost among the living, an intruder in a place he had saved but no longer belonged to.

“Detective Grimm!”

The voice snapped him out of his thoughts. A young boy ran up to him, clutching a drawing in his hands. “I made this for you,” the boy said, smiling shyly.

Isaac knelt to take the paper. It was a crude drawing of a man with a badge and a glowing sword, standing triumphantly over a shadowy monster.

“Thank you,” Isaac said, his voice softer than he expected.

“You’re a hero,” the boy said, his eyes wide with admiration.

Isaac forced a smile, but the words felt like knives. A hero? How could he explain to this child that the darkness he had fought now lived inside him? That every moment was a struggle not to let it consume him?

As the boy ran off, Isaac folded the drawing and tucked it into his pocket.

---

That night, the nightmares returned.

Isaac stood in the void again, surrounded by the seven creatures. Their forms were more grotesque now, their eyes burning with hatred and hunger.

“You think you’ve won?” Malachai hissed, its voice dripping with malice. “You’ve only delayed the inevitable.”

The others joined in, their voices a cacophony of taunts and threats.

“You are one of us now.”

“Our blood flows in your veins.”

“No ritual can save you.”

Isaac screamed, the sound raw and primal. He lunged at the creatures, his fists swinging wildly, but they dissolved into shadows, laughing as they swirled around him.

“Run all you want,” Umbrelis whispered, its voice curling like smoke. “We will always be here.”

Isaac woke with a start, his body drenched in sweat. He sat up, his breathing ragged, his heart pounding like a war drum.

The room was dark, but the shadows seemed alive, writhing and stretching toward him. He grabbed the dagger from his nightstand, its cold steel grounding him.

---

In the days that followed, Isaac began to isolate himself. He avoided the townspeople, ignored the calls from the station, and spent his nights locked in his room, fighting the voices in his head.

Amara visited him once, her face lined with worry.

“You can’t keep doing this,” she said, her voice gentle but firm.

Isaac didn’t look at her. He sat by the window, staring out at the night sky.

“They’re still inside me,” he said finally. “I can feel them. Every second. Watching. Waiting.”

Amara stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re stronger than they are, Isaac. You proved that.”

He turned to her, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and despair. “Am I? Or am I just delaying the moment I become one of them?”

She didn’t have an answer.

---

One night, unable to bear the suffocating silence, Isaac ventured into the woods surrounding Hollow. The moon hung high, its silver light casting eerie shadows on the forest floor.

He walked aimlessly, the dagger strapped to his side. The voices were quieter now, but they were still there, whispering at the edges of his mind.

As he reached a clearing, he stopped. The air was different here—thick and heavy, charged with an energy he couldn’t explain.

And then he saw it.

In the center of the clearing was a pool of water, its surface black and still. It shimmered faintly, as though it wasn’t entirely of this world.

Isaac approached cautiously, his reflection coming into view. But it wasn’t his reflection.

The figure in the water was him, but not him. Its eyes burned red, its skin cracked and darkened, its smile cruel and taunting.

“Still pretending to be the hero?” the reflection said, its voice dripping with contempt.

Isaac clenched his fists. “You’re not real.”

“Oh, but I am,” it said, its grin widening. “I’m the part of you that you can’t control. The part you’re too afraid to admit exists.”

Isaac shook his head, stepping back. “You’re nothing. Just a shadow.”

The reflection laughed, the sound echoing through the clearing. “You can’t run from me, Isaac. I’m in your blood. Your bones. Your soul. And one day, you’ll let me in. You’ll have no choice.”

Isaac stared at the figure, his jaw tightening. “I’ll fight you. Every second. Every day. Until my last breath.”

The reflection tilted its head, its grin fading. “We’ll see.”

And with that, the water stilled, the figure vanishing.

---

As dawn broke, Isaac returned to Hollow, his steps heavy but his resolve unshaken. He didn’t know how long he could fight the darkness, but he knew he wouldn’t give up.

Not yet.

The people of Hollow needed him.

And maybe, just maybe, he still needed to prove to himself that he was more than the evil running in his veins.