26 Jan The 15-Second Soul Sucker

Part I

Returning to the Boys and Girls Club after summer break felt like coming home. The familiar echo of kids yelling and laughing, the faint smell of sneakers and disinfectant, and the steady hum of fluorescent lights in the gym—it all grounded me. I’d spent most of my high school years volunteering here, coaching games, helping with homework, and breaking up the occasional dodgeball-related dispute. I loved it. It wasn’t just about the kids. It was about the feeling that I was doing something meaningful.

Emily, the senior staff member on my shift, greeted me at the front desk with her usual warm smile. She was the glue holding this place together, a no-nonsense type with a knack for handling even the toughest kids.

“Glad to have you back, Aubin,” she said, handing me my name tag. “We’ve missed you.”

“Thanks, Em. Good to be back. How’s the summer crew holding up?”

Her smile faltered slightly, and she lowered her voice. “Not bad, but… we’ve got a new member you should know about. Gregory.”

“Gregory?”

She nodded, glancing toward the game room, where a cluster of kids was playing foosball. “Eight years old. Came in about a month ago. And let’s just say he’s… different.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”

“He’s got some behavioral issues,” Emily said, choosing her words carefully. “OCD tendencies, no filter, and an… unsettling way of talking. He’s been intimidating other kids, threatening violence, refusing to participate in activities. And when he’s left unsupervised, he gets up to some serious mischief.”

“That bad, huh?”

Emily leaned in closer. “Just keep an eye on him. And, Aubin? Don’t let him get under your skin. He’s… a handful.”

I nodded, filing her warning away. I’d handled tough kids before. How bad could Gregory really be?

* * * * * *

I met him during cleanup after dodgeball. It had been a chaotic but fun afternoon in the gym, with kids hurling foam balls at each other like miniature gladiators. As the game wound down, I stayed behind to put the equipment away while the rest of the group headed to the cafeteria for snack time.

The equipment room was a cramped, windowless space lined with shelves overflowing with balls, jump ropes, and cones. I was halfway through stuffing dodgeballs into a mesh bag when I heard it.

“Aubin.”

The voice came from directly behind me.

I spun around so fast that I nearly tripped over a stray basketball. Standing there, barely two feet away, was a boy I hadn’t noticed before.

He was small for his age, with pale skin and a mop of dark hair that looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in weeks. His eyes, though—they were sharp, piercing, and far too old for an eight-year-old. He stared at me with an intensity that made my stomach twist.

“You’re quiet,” I said, trying to steady my voice. “Didn’t even hear you come in.”

Gregory didn’t respond. He just kept staring, his head tilted slightly to one side, like he was studying me.

“Can I help you with something?” I asked, dropping the bag of balls.

“You don’t know me yet,” he said finally. His voice was soft but carried an unnerving weight. “But you will.”

I blinked. “Uh, okay. I’m Aubin. You must be Gregory.”

A slow smile crept across his face. “That’s right. They’ve told you about me, haven’t they?”

“Maybe a little,” I admitted, keeping my tone neutral.

He took a step closer, closing the already narrow gap between us. I instinctively backed up, bumping into the shelf behind me.

“Do you believe in soul sucking?” he asked, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

I stared at him. “Soul sucking? Like… doing a job you hate and feeling drained? That kind of thing?”

“No,” Gregory said, his tone patient, like he was explaining something obvious to a slow student. “I mean literally sucking someone’s soul out of their body.”

My first instinct was to laugh, but something about his expression stopped me. He wasn’t joking.

“I don’t think that’s a real thing,” I said carefully.

“It is,” Gregory replied. “I’ve done it.”

My stomach churned. “Why… why would you do that?”

“Because it’s fun,” he said simply.

I swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how alone we were in the cramped room. “Gregory, you shouldn’t joke about stuff like that.”

“Who says I’m joking?” He took another step closer, so close now that I could feel his breath. “Want to see how it works?”

“No,” I said quickly, my voice shaky. “I—”

Before I could react, Gregory reached up and grabbed my face with both hands, his fingers cold and firm against my skin. He leaned in, his mouth inches from mine, and inhaled sharply.

The sound he made was grotesque, like sucking the last bit of liquid through a straw. And then I felt it—a horrifying, bone-deep sensation of something being pulled from me. My chest tightened, and for a moment, I thought I might vomit.

The room spun. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. All I could do was stand there, paralyzed, as the feeling of detachment grew stronger, as if some invisible thread connecting me to the world was being severed.

“Hey! What’s going on in here?”

The voice snapped me back to reality. Emily stood in the doorway, her eyes darting between Gregory and me.

Gregory let go of my face and stepped back, his expression eerily calm. “Nothing,” he said, his tone light and innocent. “Aubin was just putting the balls away. I came to see if he needed help, but I was just leaving.”

Emily frowned but didn’t press further. “Aubin, we need you in the cafeteria. Snack’s starting.”

“Yeah,” I managed, my voice hoarse. “I’ll be right there.”

Gregory shot me one last glance before walking out. The calm, knowing smile on his face made my skin crawl.

I stayed in the equipment room for a few extra minutes, trying to steady my breathing. My hands trembled as I touched my face, half-expecting to find some physical evidence of what had just happened. But there was nothing.

When I finally worked up the courage to leave, the cafeteria was bustling with kids and staff. Gregory sat at a table near the back, munching on a bag of chips like nothing had happened.

I didn’t approach him. I couldn’t.

Part II

The next three days felt like an eternity. Gregory’s words haunted me: “It only takes 15 seconds to suck someone’s soul.” The sensation of him pulling at something deep inside me was impossible to forget. I tried telling myself it wasn’t real—that he was just a creepy kid with a vivid imagination—but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the unease.

I avoided him at all costs, keeping my distance during activities and sticking to larger groups. It wasn’t just for my own sanity; something about him didn’t sit right with the other kids, either. They kept away from him without being told, as if they sensed what I had.

On my next shift, Emily greeted me with a concerned look.

“We’re short a few kids today,” she said, handing me the attendance sheet. “Looks like there’s some kind of bug going around. Half a dozen kids called out sick.”

“Sick?” I asked, scanning the list. Several of the names were familiar: Henry, Chelsea, Marcus… all kids I’d seen Gregory talking to in the past week.

“Yeah, fever, fatigue, all that stuff,” Emily replied. “Probably just the flu. But keep an eye on the ones who are here, just in case it spreads.”

I nodded, but my stomach churned. This wasn’t the flu. It couldn’t be.

That afternoon, I couldn’t focus on my usual duties. Instead, I found myself watching Gregory from a distance, trying to piece together what he was up to. He moved through the club like a shadow, quiet and calculating. Every so often, he’d zero in on a kid, sitting unnervingly close and whispering in their ear. The kids’ reactions were always the same: a look of confusion, then fear, followed by a strange blankness that made my skin crawl.

By the time my shift ended, I knew I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

After the last of the kids had left and the building was quiet, I made my way to the staff office. It wasn’t difficult to find the security camera feed—Emily had shown me the system months ago.

I sat at the computer, scrubbing through footage from the past week. At first, it was just routine chaos: kids running around, staff shouting over the din, games of tag turning into wrestling matches. But then I saw him.

Gregory.

In clip after clip, he repeated the same chilling pattern. He’d corner a kid in an isolated part of the building—a storage closet, an empty corner of the gym, behind the snack bar. His small hands would grip their face, and his mouth would hover just inches from theirs.

And then he’d inhale.

Even through the grainy footage, I could see the kids’ reactions. Their bodies would go rigid, their eyes wide with terror. Some tried to pull away, but Gregory’s grip was unrelenting. The sessions lasted only a few seconds before he let them go, and the kids stumbled away looking dazed and unsteady.

My stomach lurched as I realized I was watching the same thing he’d done to me. Only with them, it had lasted longer.

* * * * * *

The next morning, I couldn’t stop thinking about the footage. I needed answers—real ones.

I looked up Gregory’s address in the staff files and decided to pay a visit. It wasn’t hard to rationalize. As a volunteer, I’d visited kids’ homes before to drop off forgotten belongings or deliver newsletters. But this time, I wasn’t sure what I’d find.

Gregory lived in an older neighborhood on the edge of town, where the houses were cramped together like mismatched teeth. The paint on the one I stopped at was peeling, and the lawn was overgrown with weeds.

I knocked on the door and waited, my pulse quickening with each second.

It creaked open, and a woman peeked out. She was thin and pale, her hair pulled into a messy bun. Her eyes were bloodshot, like she hadn’t slept in days.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her voice raspy.

“Hi,” I began, forcing a smile. “I’m Aubin, a volunteer at the Boys and Girls Club. I work with Gregory.”

Her expression didn’t change. “Is he in trouble?”

“No, no,” I said quickly. “I just… wanted to touch base. He’s been acting a little… unusual at the center, and I thought it might help to get some context.”

She stared at me for a moment, then opened the door wider. “Come in.”

The inside of the house was just as bleak as the outside. The furniture was old and mismatched, and the air smelled faintly of mildew. Gregory’s father sat in an armchair by the window, his eyes glued to a muted TV. He didn’t look up as I entered.

“What do you want to know?” Gregory’s mother asked, gesturing for me to sit on the sagging couch.

“Well,” I began cautiously, “Gregory’s a bright kid, but some of his behavior has been… concerning. Has he always been this way?”

Her lips twitched into something that might have been a smile. “Gregory’s special,” she said. “He’s not like other kids.”

I waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t.

“Special how?” I pressed.

She glanced toward her husband, who finally looked up from the TV. His face was gaunt, his eyes hollow.

“He has… gifts,” the man said, his voice gravelly. “Things other kids don’t. You’ll see. Everyone does, eventually.”

My blood ran cold. “What kind of gifts?”

Gregory’s mother stood abruptly. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

I opened my mouth to argue but thought better of it. Their expressions told me I wasn’t going to get any more answers.

As I left, I noticed Gregory standing at the top of the stairs, watching me. He didn’t say a word, but the look in his eyes sent a shiver down my spine.

When I returned to the club that afternoon, Gregory was waiting for me. He cornered me in the locker room, his small frame blocking the door.

“You went to my house,” he said, his tone flat.

“How do you—”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he interrupted. His eyes bore into mine, unblinking. “Do you know what happens to people who dig too deep?”

I swallowed hard. “Gregory, whatever you’re doing… you need to stop. You’re hurting people.”

“They’re weak,” he said with a shrug. “If I don’t take their souls, someone else will.”

My chest tightened. “What are you talking about?”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You can’t stop me, Aubin. You’re just like the rest of them.”

Before I could respond, he slipped past me and out the door, leaving me alone with my pounding heart and the suffocating weight of his words.

Part III

By the time I arrived at the club for my next shift, Gregory had taken over my thoughts completely. His warning in the locker room echoed in my head: “You can’t stop me, Aubin. You’re just like the rest of them.”

I didn’t know what that meant, but I had a growing sense that it was only going to get worse.

Gregory’s behavior escalated quickly. He stopped hiding his manipulations. During group activities, he would interrupt games with cryptic remarks that left the other kids unsettled.

“You know what it feels like to lose everything?” he asked a group during an art session. “Like all the light in your head just disappears, and you’re stuck in the dark forever?”

The kids exchanged nervous glances, unsure how to respond. One of the staff members, Mr. Torres, stepped in, redirecting the conversation to the activity at hand, but Gregory’s words hung in the air like a bad smell.

I tried to talk to Emily about it, but she brushed me off. “He’s just testing boundaries,” she said. “It’s what kids like him do. You’ve seen it before.”

“This isn’t like the others,” I said, frustrated. “He’s… dangerous.”

Emily sighed, clearly unconvinced. “If you’re that worried, keep an eye on him. But remember, he’s just a kid, Aubin.”

But Gregory wasn’t just a kid. He was something else—something that didn’t belong here.

I spent hours researching anything that might explain what he was. My internet history became a mess of folklore, supernatural legends, and obscure forums about energy vampires and soul stealers. Most of it sounded ridiculous, but one thread stuck with me.

It was about children who could drain the “life force” of others, leaving them weak, sick, or worse. The thread claimed these kids were born with a kind of “gift” that allowed them to feed off others’ souls to sustain themselves. There was no cure, no way to stop them—only to avoid them at all costs.

The more I read, the more the descriptions lined up with Gregory. But avoiding him wasn’t an option. Not with other kids in danger.

* * * * * *

Two days later, Gregory found me again. This time, it was in the empty hallway outside the gym.

“Still spying on me?” he asked, leaning casually against the wall.

I froze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.” He took a step closer, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “You think you can stop me. That’s funny.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” I lied.

He grinned. “Yes, you are. I can taste it.”

I clenched my fists, my jaw tightening. “You need to stop, Gregory. You’re hurting people.”

“So what?” he said, shrugging. “They’re just kids. Weak ones. If I don’t take their souls, someone else will.”

My stomach churned. “What does that even mean?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” he said, stepping closer until we were nearly nose-to-nose. “But don’t worry, Aubin. I’ll show you one day.”

Before I could respond, he was gone, leaving me shaking and furious.

That afternoon, the club held an art activity in the cafeteria. The kids were busy drawing and painting, the room buzzing with chatter. Gregory sat at a table near the back, his expression blank as he scribbled on a piece of paper.

I kept a close eye on him, my nerves on edge.

Then it happened.

One of the younger kids, a timid boy named Liam, asked Gregory if he could borrow a red crayon. Gregory ignored him at first, but when Liam asked again, Gregory snapped.

“No,” he said coldly.

“It’s just a crayon,” Liam said, confused.

Gregory stood up slowly, reaching into his backpack. When his hand came out, he was holding a knife.

The room froze.

“Gregory, put that down!” Emily shouted, stepping forward.

Gregory’s expression didn’t change. He held the knife tightly, his gaze fixed on Liam.

The staff scrambled into action, initiating a lockdown. Kids were ushered into nearby rooms, the doors locked behind them. But Gregory didn’t move. He stayed in the center of the cafeteria, the knife glinting in his hand.

As the staff tried to contain the situation, Gregory turned his attention to the few stragglers who hadn’t been ushered out.

The first victim was Mr. Torres. Gregory lunged at him, gripping his face with one hand while holding the knife in the other.

“Stop!” I shouted, but it was too late.

Gregory inhaled deeply, the sound sickeningly familiar. Mr. Torres froze, his body trembling as Gregory drained him. When Gregory let go, Torres crumpled to the floor, his eyes vacant.

The other kids screamed, but Gregory didn’t stop. He moved methodically, targeting anyone within reach.

By the time I worked up the courage to act, he’d already drained three more kids and the interim director.

I couldn’t let it continue. I grabbed the nearest weapon I could find—a broom handle—and ran toward Gregory.

“Gregory!” I shouted.

He turned to face me, his lips curling into a smile. “Your turn, Aubin.”

We clashed in the middle of the gym, the broom handle colliding with the knife. He was fast, impossibly fast, but I managed to knock the weapon out of his hand.

We fell to the ground, grappling for control. His hands found my face, and I felt the familiar, horrifying pull as he began to suck at my soul.

“Stop!” I gasped, trying to push him off.

“You can’t stop me,” he whispered, his grip tightening. “No one can.”

My vision blurred. The world around me seemed to fade as the seconds ticked by. I knew I had only one chance.

Summoning every ounce of strength I had left, I grabbed the knife and plunged it into Gregory’s chest.

He gasped, his grip loosening. For a moment, he just stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then he collapsed, his body going limp.

Part IV

The gym was silent except for the ragged sound of my breathing and the faint scuff of shoes against the floor as kids peeked out from their hiding spots. Gregory lay sprawled on the ground, the knife still embedded in his chest. My hands trembled as I stared at him, waiting for something—anything—to happen.

But he didn’t move.

I didn’t know how long I stood there, frozen. My heart was pounding so loudly I could barely hear the shouts from the staff members rushing into the gym.

“Aubin!” Emily’s voice broke through my daze. She ran to me, her eyes wide with panic. “What happened?”

I tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I gestured weakly toward Gregory’s body.

Emily knelt beside him, checking for a pulse. Her face paled as she leaned back, shaking her head.

“He’s… gone,” she said quietly.

* * * * * *

The rest of the staff began ushering the kids out of the gym, shielding their eyes from the scene. I sank to the floor, my back against the wall, as the weight of what had just happened crashed down on me.

I’d killed him. An eight-year-old boy.

But he wasn’t just a boy. He was… something else. Something monstrous.

Still, the guilt clawed at me, mixing with the relief that it was finally over.

Emily sat down next to me, her voice low. “Aubin, are you hurt?”

I shook my head. “No. But… he almost—”

I stopped, unable to finish the sentence. She didn’t press me.

By the time the paramedics arrived, the adrenaline had worn off, and I felt like a hollow shell. They loaded me onto a stretcher, insisting on taking me to the hospital to make sure I was okay.

The ride was a blur. I drifted in and out of consciousness, the events replaying in my mind like a broken record. Gregory’s voice, his grin, the terrifying pull as he sucked at my soul—it all felt too real, too vivid.

At one point, I opened my eyes to see a paramedic leaning over me. “You’re going to be okay,” he said.

But I wasn’t sure I believed him.

At the hospital, I was poked and prodded, my vitals checked, my injuries cataloged. A police officer arrived not long after, his expression serious but not unkind.

“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked, pulling up a chair beside my bed.

I hesitated, unsure how to explain something so unbelievable. “There was… an incident at the club,” I said finally. “One of the kids had a knife. He attacked staff and other kids. I—”

I paused, swallowing hard. “I stopped him.”

The officer nodded, jotting down notes. “And the knife? It was his?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Were you in immediate danger?”

“Yes,” I repeated, my voice firmer this time. “He… he grabbed me. I thought he was going to kill me.”

The officer studied me for a moment before nodding again. “It sounds like self-defense. We’ll follow up with the staff and review the security footage, but for now, you’re not in any trouble.”

His words should have been reassuring, but they weren’t. Nothing about this situation felt right.

After the police left, I lay in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling. The room felt too bright, too sterile, and I couldn’t shake the sensation that something was missing.

I tried to tell myself it was just the trauma—the shock of what had happened. But deep down, I knew it was more than that. Gregory had gotten too close.

My soul felt… off. Incomplete. Like a part of me was still trapped in that gym, with him.

* * * * * *

A few days later, I returned to the Boys and Girls Club to collect my things. The building felt different—quieter, emptier. The staff greeted me warmly, but there was a tension in the air that hadn’t been there before.

Emily pulled me aside as I packed up my locker. “How are you holding up?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I feel… strange. Like I’m not all here.”

She frowned. “That’s normal after something like this. It’ll take time, Aubin. But you’ll heal.”

I nodded, but her words didn’t comfort me.

That night, I sat in my room, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The face looking back at me felt unfamiliar—like a stranger’s.

I touched my cheek, half-expecting to feel Gregory’s cold hands again. The memory of his voice echoed in my mind: “You’re just like the rest of them.”

I wondered if he was right. If part of me had been taken that day in the gym. If I’d ever feel whole again.

And then a darker thought crept in, one I couldn’t shake.

What if Gregory wasn’t the only one?

Part V

The club never reopened, at least not while I was around to see it. Officially, it was labeled a tragedy—a boy with undiagnosed psychological issues had a breakdown, leading to chaos and loss. The news covered it for a day or two, but it didn’t make national headlines. Just another story about a troubled kid in a quiet town.

But I knew the truth.

I was discharged from the hospital two days later. The doctors told me I was physically fine—no fractures, no lasting injuries, just a mild concussion. But the scans couldn’t show what I felt inside.

My parents were waiting for me in the lobby, their faces etched with worry. They asked questions I didn’t have the energy to answer. I mumbled reassurances, but the truth was, I didn’t feel okay. I wasn’t sure I ever would.

The police officially closed the case a week later. They reviewed the security footage and corroborated everything I’d said. Gregory had threatened others with a weapon, attacked multiple people, and left me no choice but to defend myself.

“It’s a clean case of self-defense,” Officer Michaels told me during our last meeting. “You did what you had to do.”

I nodded, but his words didn’t bring the relief they were meant to.

The days blurred together after that. I went through the motions—eating, sleeping, answering my parents when they spoke to me—but everything felt off.

Colors seemed duller. Sounds were muted. And every time I looked in the mirror, I felt a strange disconnect, as if the person staring back at me wasn’t really me.

I told myself it was just trauma, my mind’s way of coping with what had happened. But deep down, I knew better.

It wasn’t just psychological. Something was missing—something fundamental.

I could feel it in the quiet moments, when the world slowed down and my thoughts became too loud. It was like a piece of me had been ripped away, leaving behind an empty space that nothing could fill.

Sometimes, late at night, I’d wake up gasping for air, convinced I could still feel Gregory’s hands on my face, his breath pulling at my very essence.

I’d stumble to the bathroom, splash water on my face, and stare at my reflection, searching for some sign of what he’d taken from me.

But there was nothing. Just my own hollow eyes staring back.

* * * * * *

As the weeks went on, a new fear began to take root.

What if Gregory wasn’t the only one?

I thought about the things his parents had said, the way they’d dismissed my concerns so easily. They’d called him “special,” as if his abilities were something to be proud of.

What if there were others like him—other “special” people hiding in plain sight?

The thought kept me up at night, my mind spiraling into worst-case scenarios. How many souls had Gregory taken before I stopped him? How many more were out there, doing the same thing to others?

And what about me?

Gregory had come dangerously close to finishing the job. I kept replaying those final moments in my head, counting the seconds as he drained me. Ten… eleven… twelve.

He’d been so close.

Had I lost more than I realized?

One night, unable to sleep, I found myself standing in front of the mirror again. I stared at my reflection, trying to convince myself that I was whole, that I was still me.

But the longer I looked, the more I doubted.

My face seemed wrong—too pale, too hollow. My eyes didn’t sparkle the way they used to. I felt like a ghost haunting my own body.

I pressed my hand to the glass, half-expecting my reflection to move independently. But it didn’t.

“Is this all that’s left of me?” I whispered to the empty room.

The mirror didn’t answer.

* * * * * *

I’ve tried to move on. I’ve tried to tell myself that it’s over, that Gregory is gone and can’t hurt anyone else.

But some nights, I wake up with a start, my chest tight and my head spinning. In those moments, I swear I can hear his voice, faint and taunting:

“You’re just like the rest of them.”

I don’t know what he meant by that. Maybe I never will.

All I know is that ever since that day in the gym, the world hasn’t felt real.

And neither have I.