The Hollow Silence

The Hollow Silence - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The man sat up in bed, drenched in sweat. His medium length brown hair stuck to his face. His heart was beating wildly. That dream again, he thought. He looked around, and saw a woman lying in bed next to him. Luckily she didn't awake up when he jolted up. He sighed and slipped his legs off the bed; he placed his head in his hands and sighed again deeply. Why this dream again, he thought. He looked at the clock, it was one.

The woman behind him stirred, "Mark... What's wrong?" she asked. He turned to look at her, her jade eyes looking up at him, her black hair resting on the pillow. To him she was an angel. He smiled and leaned over and kissed her, exposing his naked body to the cold air. After their lips embraced, she asked once more, "Mark, what's wrong?"

He sighed and smiled, "It was just a bad dream." He said. His heart was still racing. Something about that dream... It brought back too much pain. It frightened him. His mind was a jumbled mess. She looked at him with a concerned look. He slid back under the covers and kissed her, taking his arms and putting them around her, "Go back to sleep Sylvia. Don't worry about it okay?"

She looked skeptical, but as he kissed her gently on the neck she giggled little bit and snuggled up into his chest. His mind then forgot the dream and went to her. They had been dating for three months now. Last night was the first time they had made love. He smiled, she wasn't tall or skinny. But nor was she short or fat. She was just the right weight for him, just the right height as well. He was glad to have a girl as great as her in his life. He kissed her forehead and closed his eyes.

However, the vision of the three eyes entered his mind. The voice... So cold... So dark... He opened his eyes again once more. Why was my father in that dream, he thought, he died in a burglary. At least that was what he was told. He in truth never knew, that is just what his uncle had said. He sighed once more; his breath was let out shakily. The voice... it got to him. The voice.

He glanced at the clock and noticed it was four. His eyes widened in disbelief, it had been three hours! It had only seemed a few minutes. He found his phone on the table next to his bed and checked the time. It too said four. He groaned, slid out of bed and Sylvia stirred.

He stretched and looked back. He had yet to say 'I love you.' However, he didn't think he did yet. He cared, but he could never say them. Luckily, she hasn't said them either. He smiled at her, "I got to get ready now." She smiled and rolled over, falling back asleep. He saw her back and smiled, her skin pale. He looked at himself and saw the same. He stepped into the bathroom and turned on the water. He looked at himself in the mirror.

For a moment he thought he saw the eyes in the mirror and he jumped back and yelled. He looked again, and he saw only himself. He heard Sylvia stir and he poked his head out the door, "Don't worry. Just looked at my eyes that's all." She shook her head and laid back down. He smiled slightly.

This time he looked back again. He saw his unshaven face, so rough, but strangely handsome. His eyes, completely blood shot. Why are my eyes so bad, he thought, is there something I am allergic too? He shook his head, he wasn't allergic to anything. He sighed and slumped inside the shower, letting the hot water beat on him.

His toned muscles relaxed. He took his shampoo and lathered it into his hand. Despite the fact the water was hot, a cold draft blew into the bathroom. He shivered and asked, "Hey Sylvia is that you?" He received no answer. After a few moments he washed himself and stepped out, grabbing a towel and drying himself off.

He then walked out; the time was now four thirty. He smiled and walked into the closet. He walked in and looked immediately right to his pants. They were all the same, black or blue jeans. Rarely did he wear anything else. He looked to the left and saw what few clothes Sylvia had over here. She didn't live with him, but always kept some clothes over just incase.

He slid into a black t-shirt, black jeans, and a black leather jacket. He yawned and exited the closet and into the room. By this time Sylvia was up. She sat up naked on the bed reading a book, the sheet hiding her. She beamed at him when he walked in with her beautiful smile. His worries melted away, he jumped on the bed and kissed her, "I'll be off soon."

The bed was large, a queen sized bed, the bed sheets and covers were white. The pillows were large and fluffy, just the way he liked them. The room itself was nice as well, the walls were painted blue, a television was suspended on the wall next to the door. A small desk in the corner of the room sat with a computer, it hummed. It never turned off. There was always something important going on.

He slipped his socks on and shoes, both white, and kissed Sylvia once more. He was relaxed, "Good bye. I'm off."

"Bye Mark." She said smiling. Her smile always made him happier. He smiled back and stepped out the bedroom door and into the kitchen/living room. He went to the fridge in the kitchen and pulled out a Yoo-Hoo. He opened it and looked around the room, it wasn't the cleanest, but it was nice. A medium sized TV was placed across from a long velvet couch, the love seat sat facing the wall on the right side of the couch. He smiled, he had done good with his money.

He stepped out of his condo, and locked the door behind him. He walked down the steps of his building; he lived in condo 4-B of the building Mainwell Condos and out into the streets of Mainwell, New York. The city itself was a medium sized city. The majority of its population worked in offices, just like Mark. But unlike the rest of the people, Mark worked in a different business than most.

He walked to his car in the parking lot, a Nissan Skyline GT-R. It was his prized possession. He had the car for five years and he got it when he was twenty-three. He smiled when he saw it, its black paint was still glossy. He shivered and pulled his coat tighter around him. Northern winters were killer.

He got into his car and turned it on. It purred to life. The radio was turned off, but his Ipod played Snow by Red Hot Chili Peppers. He smiled and started to sing along. He drove around the city and took a long route. He knew most people didn't get up at four forty-five and go to work. He did it to beat the traffic. He pulled into a small office building and stepped out of the car.

The building was small and quaint brick red brick building with two large windows and a door in the front, all made of glass. On the front was a sign that said, "Mark Holliston & Monica Vega- Bounty Hunters/Private Investigators/Consulting Detectives. He unlocked the door and slid inside. He turned on the light to show a small room with one desk.

Behind the desk was another door, which lead to his office. He unlocked the door into this office and stepped inside. On his desk was his pistol which he put in his waistband. It was a standard Glock 17, and he like the feel of it. He sat down behind his desk and waited, shifting through some paperwork..

Around six Monica walked into the office holding bag of McDonalds, "Hey sorry I am late. Traffic." She said. She was a good-sized woman, very toned, large in T&A. If he had gone for Hispanics Mark might have actually tried dating her. But they weren't his type.

He shook his head and smiled, "Don't worry Monica. I hope you brought me some coffee and a McGriddle." He said. It was thing they did almost every day. She would always come in late and apologize by buying him breakfast. Rarely did she ever come in on time.

As soon as she opened bag, the phone on her desk rang, causing her to jump. She grabbed the phone, brushed her short red hair out of her brown eyes and put on a smile, "Mark and Monica, how can I help you?" She always acted like they were customer service. That was what she did do before that. It irritated Mark.

Her face grew puzzled and she replied, "Yes. One moment." She grabbed a stick note and started jotting down a few things. He stood up and walked out of the open door, and looked at the note she was writing. "We will be there soon as possible."

He looked at her and asked, "Who was that?"

"Chief Montag. He has a murder he can't explain. He thought an outside source would be better... It was... one of their own. Montag said he didn't want any of his people's judgments to be clouded." She explained, her voice a little alarmed.

"Alright then. Lets go." He said grabbing his coat which he had thrown off when he entered.