Page 19 of A Hail From Hell: Vol 1
Evan stilled.
A silhouette splayed against the dark, non-reflective surface, staring at him from the other side of the mirror. It was huge, stretching as tall as the mirror. A faint figure came into view. Fingers, arms, two red dots…two red eyes—
The doors burst open behind him.
Evan jolted, the world blurring for a moment. As if an unseen spell had shattered.
What was that? What did I just…?
“There he is.”
A sharp breath escaped Evan’s lips as Bruce’s voice, along with several footsteps and flashlights, barged into the mirror room. Somehow, their already twisted faces had managed toscrunch into a more severe expression, like they were suffering from constipation.
“We’ve been screaming your name for thirty minutes now. You fucking deaf?” Bruce barked.
Thirty minutes?
It hadn’t been that long since Evan came into this room, had it? And why did he not hear a single sound from downstairs if they were calling for him? With his sensitive ears, he should have…
As Evan blinked, a warm drop of moisture rolled down his cheeks, into his parted lips.
Warm. Salty.
Confused, he touched his face, fingers collecting the tears gathered under his chin.
I am…crying?
The dull ache in his chest, which had momentarily subsided, started throbbing again. Evan hadn’t cried in years.
Returning his gaze to the mirror, Evan’s dazed eyes fell on his hand, which was gripping the golden frame of the mirror. His heart dropped when he noticed his dull skin.
The light barrier had faded away without his knowledge.
Evan wrenched his hand away like he’d been burnt, his index finger accidentally catching at a pointy edge of the mirror frame. His skin tore. Blood oozed. Before he could understand what had happened, the blood trickled down his palm and onto the dusty floor.
A satisfied hum reverberated across the floor.
Fuck.
Bleeding in a haunted space was as well an invitation to hungry spirits to feast on his flesh.
“Is he really deaf?” One of the men growled behind him.
Bruce grunted. “What were you doing in here?”
Someone laughed. “Jerking off in front of a mirror?”
Evan’s jaws clenched. Ignore them.
Fools in the jaws of death often masked their fear with humor.
“Did you already come? Too bad we could’ve watched.”
“Or lent a hand.”
Ignore them.
Evan clenched his bloody fist, forcing out more blood.
