Anna Claire dropped the notebook like it was on fire. Her hands shook as she poured a glass of cold water. But when she looked in the bathroom mirror, her reflection didn’t move for three seconds too long.
Anna Claire was recording vocals for a track called “Mercy.” The producer, a kind older man named Ezra, kept asking for another take. “More vulnerability,” he said. “More light.”
(Ezra. Delia. The front-row girl with the daisy tattoo. Her father. Herself.) Anna Claire Clouds - Dark Side - Part 1-4
Then it smiled.
The breaking point came in Nashville.
The Hollow laughed inside her skull.
The crowd wept. Then they cheered. Then they backed away, because her eyes were wrong—too wide, too still, like a doll’s. Anna Claire dropped the notebook like it was on fire
She didn’t scream.