Chapter 2 Hollow Cravings

The silence in her apartment wasn't peaceful.

It was very thick. It was very loud. It was dangerous.

Sienna locked the door behind her and dropped her keys on the counter. Cassie wouldn't be coming back tonight, even if she was, she has her own keys. Her place was neat - clean lines, dim lights, black polished floors. The kitchen was untouched. A single bottle of red wine on the counter, half-empty. She didn't eat much. Her cravings were rarely edible. She never cooks. Cassie does most of the cooking though.

She shrugged off her leather jacket and let it drop to the floor.

The room hummed - not with noise, but with the pressure of being too quiet. The kind of silence that reminded her how long it had been since someone touched her and meant it. Since someone stayed. Since someone asked her name without already knowing what they wanted.

Sienna didn't cry. Not anymore. She stopped shedding tears since she left hollow bend at 17 years old.

Tears were a waste of water and a sign of weakness she couldn't afford. What she needed tonight was release - the kind that burned through her veins and shut off the voices in her head.

She stripped as she walked down the hallway. Her clothes trailed behind her - black tank top, jeans, panties. She left the lights off. She knew the layout. Knew her own curves in the mirror. Knew how the air felt against her skin when she was alone and ready to lie to herself again.

The bedroom was bare - queen bed, dark sheets, a dresser with a mirror she rarely looked into unless her makeup was smeared with someone else's breath.

She climbed onto the bed, reached for the drawer, and pulled out the silver toy that had replaced men more times than she could count. Just like tonight she had fucked a man but here she was again, with a second option.

But tonight, even that felt... stale.

She closed her eyes and tried to pretend. Pretend to feel.

Bodies flashed behind her eyelids.

Hands. Teeth. Sweat. Tongues.

Men who moaned her name like they owned it.

Men who whispered that she was a goddess, a whore, a drug.

Men who begged to stay.

And men she made disappear.

But none of them filled her.

None of them burned.

She pressed the toy harder. Gasped.

But it was all mechanical. Hollow. No pleasure. Just muscle memory and a faint rush that fizzled before it crested.

But she was determined to reach her climax, she needed to. She closed her eyes as she pleasured herself with the toy. After so much struggle and impatience, she reached what looks like a climax,but instead of feeling relieved she felt empty.

She yanked it away, tossed it across the room, and collapsed on her back with a groan.

Nothing.

Not even a pulse of satisfaction.

She stared at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling in frustration. Her skin crawled with the ache of unsatisfied need.

Not for love.

Not even for connection.

Just touch. Real, consuming touch.

Sienna sat up and wrapped a sheet around herself, pacing the room like a caged thing.

She hated nights like this - when the power she carried at Velvet Smoke didn't follow her home. When the crowd's eyes couldn't hold her together. When the loneliness and need slithered in, coiling around her ribs until she couldn't breathe.

She needed wine. Didn't bother with a glass. Drank from the bottle, staring out her window.

The city glittered below her.

Men walked the sidewalks. Lights blinked. Taxis hummed. Lovers fought in alleyways and made up against brick walls.

Life didn't pause just because she felt empty.

Of course life continues.

Her rules had always been simple:

Don't let anyone in.

Don't sleep with the same man twice.

Never lie about what you are and what you feel.

But lately, Rule #2 had started to slip. A few had come back. She hadn't pushed them away fast enough. The cravings within her wouldn't let her keep that rule.

Still, the walls weren't as high as they used to be.

Maybe that's why she noticed the man across the street.

He was there again.

Just like a few hours ago.

Standing half in shadow, near the mouth of the alley by the old record store.

Same posture. Same silence. Same cigarette between his fingers.

Not moving. Not waiting. Just watching.

Only this time he wasn't looking directly at her, his eyes were on her building. Perhaps he had followed her back. But why?

Her wine bottle paused halfway to her lips. Her eyes furrowed.

What the hell?

He didn't look dangerous.

Didn't look drunk. Didn't fumble or stare like a stalker.

He looked... calm. Intent. Like he was observing something.

Like he knew something she didn't.

She blinked. And walked to the window. Pulled the curtain aside more.

But he was gone. Like the wind, he disappeared.

Again.

Sienna's heart did something strange in her chest. A soft stutter.

It was not panic, nor was it fear.

It was curiosity. How could she explain this?

And that was a new feeling.

She closed the curtain slowly. Sat down on the edge of her bed.

Maybe she was losing it.

Maybe the hunger was finally bleeding into her brain.

Or maybe... someone out there actually saw her. Not the act. Not the sex.

Her.

The thought should've scared her. Maybe it did.

But it also warmed something in her belly that she hadn't felt in a long time.

She laid back down and whispered aloud - just once - into the dark:

"Who the fuck are you? A stalker, I guess?"

No answer came.

Just silence again. as always.

But for once, it didn't feel so empty anymore. Does this stranger come with some healing miracles? Although she doesn't know who he was, but the thought of him somehow calms something in her.

"I must be losing my mind." And with that darkness covered her.