NOVEL NEXT Chapter 4: Silent Echoes
Emmy trudged through the orphanage doors, his body heavy with pain. His uniform was still stained with the remnants of Jake's cruelty, but he didn't care. He was used to it. Used to the bruises, the insults, the indifference. He shuffled past a few orphans in the hallway, their eyes flickering to his injuries before looking away. No one asked what had happened. No one ever did.
Mr. Bridges caught sight of him as he walked toward his room. His sharp eyes swept over Emmy's battered form, lingering on his swollen fingers and the fresh scratches decorating his arms. He sighed. "Clinic. Now."
Emmy nodded without a word.
The clinic was a small, dimly lit room tucked away in the orphanage. The nurse barely reacted as she cleaned his wounds and wrapped his fingers in stiff bandages. "You need to be careful," she muttered, though her voice carried no real concern.
"Yeah," Emmy murmured. He wasn't even sure if he meant it.
When she was done, he left without another word. His feet dragged against the cold floor as he made his way to his room. The pain was nothing compared to the weight pressing down on his chest. Helpless. Hopeless. He clenched his bandaged fingers, wincing at the dull throb. No matter how much he fought back, the outcome was always the same. He was weak. Powerless.
Inside his small, plain room, his eyes drifted toward the picture hanging on the wall. It had always been there, a simple painting of a quiet forest. But something was different. He frowned, stepping closer. The trees… they weren't in the same place. The path that had once led deeper into the woods now curved in a different direction. The sky seemed darker than before.
He blinked, rubbing his eyes. Maybe he was just tired. The day had been brutal, and his mind was probably playing tricks on him. He tore his gaze away, sighing heavily before collapsing onto his bed.
That night, he dreamed.
Warmth. Laughter. The feeling of home, of belonging. He saw faces—his parents? They were blurry, indistinct, but the love in their presence was unmistakable. He reached for them, but the moment his fingers touched theirs, the world shattered like glass. He woke up gasping, his room cold and empty, the dream already fading from his grasp.
A bitter laugh escaped his lips. A normal life? That was nothing more than a fantasy.
He grabbed his headset from the nightstand and placed it over his ears, scrolling through his playlist. His thumb hovered for a moment before pressing play. The soft hum of Misfits by Juice WRLD filled his ears, wrapping around him like a fragile cocoon.
"Heart still hurt, like a wrist slit, oh
I don't fit in, I'm a misfit, oh"
He stared at the ceiling, letting the music numb the ache in his chest. He knew the lyrics too well. Every word felt like it had been written for him. He didn't belong. Not in school. Not in the orphanage. Not anywhere.
A strange feeling crept over him then. A weight. As if something was pressing against his skin. His gaze drifted back to the picture.
It was watching him.
The shadows in the painting twisted, shifting ever so slightly, as if something lurked within them. The trees looked deeper now, darker. And the path… it was leading somewhere new.
Emmy's breath hitched. His body stiffened, but he couldn't look away. A cold shiver ran down his spine.
He turned sharply, yanking his blanket over his head. It was just his imagination. It had to be.
Still, even as exhaustion pulled him into sleep, one thought lingered in his mind.
Something was coming.
And he wasn't sure if he was ready for it.