Chereads / The Hollow Veil / Chapter 19 - Why must I share?

Chapter 19 - Why must I share?

Why am I running? Why is my life bound to others, and not myself? What is this feeling—fear, anger? Don't all humans abandon each other eventually? Why can't they all just die? Why must I be the parasite? Why must I seek while they hide? A symphony of isolation caused by them, not me.

Michael's thoughts raced as he ran, carrying Precious like she was baggage. Then, his ears caught it—a voice.

Her voice.

How far was she? A mile? A kilometer? Wherever, whenever—he would always recognize Elizabeth's voice.

"Leave me alone!" she screamed. "Why do you want to kill me so badly? I thought you liked me! You smile at me, you joke with me—why this sudden change?"

Sweat dripped down her neck as she backed against a wall. She was cornered, exhausted. She hadn't rested since this began. And the one forcing her into this situation?

A boy.

Not just any boy. He was muscular but short, dark-skinned with smooth skin. He was every girl's dream. And yet, the twisted smile on his face said otherwise.

"That Michael boy, the one who doesn't talk to anyone but you," the boy sneered, "he thinks he's special. And worse, he thinks you're special. You both irritate me. Every time I try to talk to you, he interrupts. So now, thanks to this little event Mr. Bola set up, I have every opportunity to fix things. If you won't be mine, then die with him. After all, there are better options than you, Elizabeth. For I, Yinka, will erase you both."

The sound of clapping echoed.

Both Elizabeth and Yinka turned toward it—one in shock, the other in rage.

"Michael," they said simultaneously.

Elizabeth's voice was filled with relief, with care. Yinka's voice, though, was venomous.

Michael tossed Precious unceremoniously to the ground. "You're too heavy."

He walked up to Elizabeth, his face as blank and emotionless as ever. As he got closer, his body sagged slightly, exhaustion from days of searching evident. But despite his weariness, his mind was sharp. His one goal, his sole reason, stood right in front of him.

He cupped her cheeks gently. "Eli," he murmured. "I've been looking for you. You left me. I ran everywhere trying to find you. Do you know how long I waited? It's tiring… ugh, I want to sleep. Eli, get me food. I want beans."

Despite everything, Elizabeth laughed. She touched his hands softly. "Don't worry, my son. We'll get beans. But first, we need to deal with him. He's trying to kill me."

One word.

Kill.

Michael froze. Something shifted in his mind. All his personalities—every part of him—aligned with one decision.

Exterminate.

He turned slowly to Yinka.

"You see, Yinka," Michael began, his tone calm, almost conversational. "I've studied you. I've followed you. Every time you followed her, I followed you. I never let you out of my sight. Why? Because you're all the same. Chase her. When she doesn't want you, you manipulate her. You destroy her." His eyes darkened. "But I can't let you do that. That's why I took precautions."

Yinka's smug smile faltered.

Michael continued. "Your mother, Mrs. Jones—she's about to become Miss Jones, seeing as her husband is currently tied upside down in one of my basements." Michael tossed a framed photograph to Yinka, watching as the boy's hands trembled. "Go ahead. Look. I preserved it just for you. It'll be the last time you see him."

Yinka's face turned pale. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

"Oh, don't worry," Michael added, his voice almost cheerful. "I didn't have the resources for all this. So, I used yours. If you check your bank account, you'll notice it's empty. How? Simple. I didn't need your details. I just switched the name on all the checks you've been handing out to women. Oh, yeah—you're not even loyal, you monkey."

Yinka stumbled backward, shaking. "W-what are you?"

"Me?" Michael's voice dropped. "I'm the one who's going to end you. And I know your ability, Mr. Photocopy."

Before Yinka could process the words, Michael's muscles bulged. He launched forward, no weapons, just his fists.

Because this bastard—this thing—didn't deserve anything else.

"You bastard," Michael growled. "You need to die."