The morning light, filtering through the thin curtains of her Phnom Penh apartment, cast stripes across Lina's face as she woke. A typical day was about to begin. Or so she thought, in the growing heat of the Cambodian summer.
She stretched, the cotton sheet tangling around her legs, and swung her feet to the cool tile floor. A faint line, almost invisible, spider-webbed across the floor tile near her bed.
She bent to examine it. Thinking it was a hair or a stray thread, but it was etched into the ceramic, hairline thin and dark. Odd, she mused, running a finger over the smooth surface around it.
Heading to the small kitchen, Lina noticed another one on the countertop near the sink. A similar fine fracture in the otherwise pristine surface. Then, a third on the wall, just above the light switch, barely a scratch in the painted plaster.
It was strange, she considered, this sudden appearance of cracks in her apartment. Had the building shifted overnight? She dismissed it as a quirk of the old building settling, nothing to be concerned by.
She brewed strong coffee, the familiar scent grounding her as she looked out of her small kitchen window. Life on the street below was its usual energetic self. Vendors setting up stalls, motorbikes already weaving through the early congestion.
Everything looked normal. Sipping her coffee, she leaned against the window frame. Her gaze snagged on another crack, this one on the glass itself, starting at the corner and branching inwards like a frozen lightning strike.
Inside this thin fissure, something wasn't quite right. It was dark, darker than just a crack in glass should be. Lina peered closer, her breath fogging the surface.
Within the darkness, a point of light flickered, then another, smaller one beside it. Her heart did a little jump. It resembled… an eye. Ridiculous thought, she told herself.
It was just a trick of the light, a flaw in the glass catching the morning sun. She blinked, focusing harder. The two points of light seemed to focus back, tiny, unnervingly organic.
Lina recoiled, stepping back from the window. She felt a chill despite the humid morning heat. Rubbing her eyes, she looked again.
The cracks were still there, the dark spaces within, and within those spaces, the lights, small and watchful. It had to be her imagination, she reasoned. Stress from work, lack of sleep maybe.
She needed to get out, start her day, and forget about these odd… fissures.
The street was as busy as usual. Yet Lina noticed something was different, something subtle and unsettling. People moved with a strange sort of hurried avoidance, not looking at each other, eyes cast down.
The usual vibrant hum of Phnom Penh was muted, replaced by a less definable tension. She glanced at the pavement. And there they were: tiny cracks running across the concrete, on the sides of buildings, in the bark of trees lining the avenue.
And in each one, the same darkness, the same points of light. Eyes. Everywhere, small eyes staring out from hairline fractures in the world. Her stomach tightened. This wasn't her imagination. This was real, and it was spreading.
A shiver ran down her spine as she saw a man stumble. His gaze locked on a crack in the wall of a shop. He stood frozen for a moment, then with a soft sound, like air escaping a punctured tire, he was gone.
Just… gone. The space where he stood was empty. The crack in the wall now a little wider, the eye within a little brighter.
Panic began to prickle at the edges of her composure. She hurried into the marketplace, hoping to find some normalcy in the familiar bustle of vendors and shoppers. But it was the same here, maybe worse.
Cracks scored the wooden stalls, the produce displays, the very ground underfoot. The eyes were inescapable, watching from every angle. People moved like ghosts, whispers replacing shouts. The scent of fear was almost as thick as the aroma of spices.
A woman bumped into Lina, her eyes wide with terror. "Did you see?" she breathed, her voice trembling. "They're taking people… if you look."
The woman didn't elaborate, just hurried away. Her eyes darting to the ground, avoiding every crack she could. Lina's mind raced, trying to make sense of this impossible horror.
Eyes appearing in cracks, people vanishing… it sounded like madness. Yet it was unfolding all around her.
She needed to talk to someone. Find someone who understood, or at least someone who could confirm she wasn't losing her mind. She thought of her friend, living across town.
It was a risk to move, to travel through streets infested with these watching fissures. But staying still felt like waiting to be consumed. Pulling her scarf higher over her face, she started walking. Keeping her gaze fixed on the ground directly in front of her, each step measured, each breath shallow.
The journey was agonizingly slow, each block a gauntlet. Cracks appeared in the road, snaking across the asphalt like dark veins. She could feel the eyes on her, even without looking directly at them.
A sense of being observed, judged, by something ancient and unknowable. The city, once vibrant and alive, was becoming a silent labyrinth of fear. Each shadow hiding a potential end.
Reaching her friend's apartment building, Lina felt a surge of relief. Quickly dashed as she saw the entranceway. Cracks radiated outwards from the doorframe, like a spiderweb centered on the doorway.
And within every line, the eyes, hundreds of them, tiny and unwavering. She hesitated, fear gripping her. But she had come too far to turn back. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the building.
The lobby was deserted, a thick silence hanging in the air. More cracks, worse than outside, covered the walls, the floor, even the ceiling. The eyes were denser here, closer together. Their collective gaze almost tangible.
She called out her friend's name, her voice echoing in the stillness. But there was no reply. She climbed the stairs. Each step creaking under her weight in the oppressive silence.
At her friend's door, she knocked. Her knuckles rapping against the wood. Silence. She knocked again, louder this time. And called out again.
Still nothing. With trembling fingers, she tried the handle. It turned. The door was unlocked. She pushed it open slowly, peering inside.
The apartment was empty, but not just deserted. It was devoid of everything. Furniture, belongings, even the faint scent of human presence was gone. It was as if the apartment had been wiped clean, leaving only the cracks.
They were everywhere, thicker here than anywhere else she had seen. Covering the walls, the floor, the ceiling. An impossible web of fissures, each one teeming with eyes.
Lina backed away, a sob catching in her throat. Her friend, gone. Just like the man in the street, vanished into the cracks, consumed by the watching eyes. Despair washed over her, cold and heavy.
Was this the end of everything? Was the world simply being unmade, turned into a canvas for these silent, hungry eyes?
She stumbled out of the apartment, back into the hallway. The eyes in the walls seeming to follow her every move. Running was futile, she knew. Nowhere was safe from them.
She was trapped in a world being devoured by cracks, by eyes. Descending the stairs, she moved like a sleepwalker. Her mind numb, her heart leaden.
Back outside, the street was quieter now. The early morning bustle replaced by a desolate stillness. Few people were visible. Those who remained moved with a defeated air, their faces pale and drawn.
The eyes in the cracks were still there, relentless, omnipresent. Lina sank down onto the steps of the building. The weight of despair crushing her.
What was the point? Where could she go? What could she do? The world was ending, not with a bang, but with a million silent stares.
She closed her own eyes, wanting to shut out the sight of them. But she could still feel their presence, a cold, watchful pressure.
A soft sound made her open her eyes again. A young girl, no older than seven or eight, stood a short distance away. Staring at her. The girl's face was streaked with tears, her eyes wide with a fear that mirrored Lina's own.
In her hand, she clutched a small, worn doll. The doll, too, had cracks on its painted face. And Lina could see, with a fresh wave of horror, tiny eyes within those cracks as well.
"Are you… are you going to disappear too?" the girl whispered. Her voice barely audible. Lina looked at the child, at her innocent face, at the impossible, terrifying reality of the doll's eyes.
A surge of something fierce and protective rose within her. Pushing back against the despair. No. She wouldn't just disappear. Not if she could help it. Not while there was still someone else, even a child, left to face this.
"No," Lina said, her voice stronger than she expected. "No, I won't." She stood up, taking a step towards the girl. "What's your name?"
"Sreylin," the girl whispered.
"Sreylin," Lina repeated. The name sounding like a fragile promise in the silent street. "Come with me, Sreylin. We'll… we'll figure something out."
She didn't know what they would figure out. Didn't have a plan. But the act of saying it, of offering hope to this frightened child, felt like a spark in the encroaching darkness. Sreylin hesitated. Then slowly came closer, her small hand reaching for Lina's.
Together, they walked, not running, not hiding. But moving forward, two figures in a world being consumed by eyes. They walked away from the deserted apartment building. Away from the silent streets. Towards an uncertain future, or perhaps, towards the inevitable.
Each step was taken with a newfound resolve. A defiance born not of hope, but of a simple refusal to succumb to the all-consuming dread. They would face the eyes, not with courage, but with a quiet, desperate determination to remain. For as long as they could, in a world that was cracking apart at the seams.
Days turned into a blurred nightmare. They moved from place to place, seeking shelter in ruined buildings. Always moving, always aware of the eyes. Food was scarce, water even more so.
Other survivors were few and far between. Most had either vanished or retreated into a catatonic state, overwhelmed by the omnipresent horror. Lina and Sreylin relied on each other. A fragile bond formed in the face of utter desolation.
Sreylin's doll, with its own miniature eyes, became a grim symbol of their reality. A constant reminder of the watching world.
One evening, huddled in the remains of a shop, Lina noticed something different. The cracks were changing. They were no longer just hairline fractures. They were widening, deepening, the darkness within growing more profound.
The eyes within them were larger too. More distinct, less like pinpricks of light, and more like actual eyes, organic and malevolent. The phenomenon was evolving, becoming more aggressive, more consuming.
"They're getting bigger," Sreylin whispered. Her voice filled with a child's innocent terror. She was staring at a crack on the floor. Where the eye was now clearly defined, a dark pupil surrounded by a milky white iris, staring back at them with cold intensity.
Lina saw it too. A fresh wave of dread washed over her. It wasn't just about disappearing anymore. It felt like something else was happening, something worse.
They tried to move again. To find a safer place. But everywhere was the same, or worse. The cracks were spreading faster, the eyes growing larger, closer. The world was literally coming apart. Being replaced by this horrifying new reality.
They found themselves in an old temple. Hoping for some semblance of sanctuary within its ancient walls. But even here, the cracks had infiltrated. Scoring the stone carvings, the statues of deities, the very heart of the sacred space.
Inside the temple, amidst the growing darkness and the endless eyes, Lina felt a strange sense of resignation settling over her. They had fought, they had tried. But against something like this, what hope was there?
She looked at Sreylin. The girl's face pale but resolute, still clutching her doll. A tiny beacon of resilience in the face of annihilation.
"Sreylin," Lina said softly. "Remember your mother?"
Sreylin nodded, her eyes welling up. "Yes."
"What was she like?" Lina asked. Wanting to hear about a world that was now lost, a life that was fading into memory.
Sreylin spoke of her mother's laughter, her kindness, the way she used to sing while cooking. As Sreylin spoke, Lina watched her face. Trying to memorize every detail, every flicker of emotion. As if preserving this memory was the last meaningful thing she could do.
The temple was silent except for Sreylin's soft voice. A fragile thread of humanity in the encroaching silence of the eyes.
Suddenly, a loud CRACK echoed through the temple. Louder than any she had heard before. A massive fissure split open in the stone floor near them. Wider, deeper than anything they had witnessed.
From within it, a huge eye opened. Not tiny and subtle, but vast and dominant. Filling the crack, staring directly at them with an unnerving intensity that seemed to penetrate their very souls. The air around them seemed to vibrate. To hum with a low, resonant frequency.
Sreylin gasped, dropping her doll. She stumbled back, her eyes locked on the immense eye. Lina felt a pull, a strange, irresistible draw towards it. A sense of inevitability, of being claimed. She knew, with a chilling certainty. This was it. This was the end.
Not just for her, but for everything.
She looked at Sreylin one last time. At the child's terrified face. A sudden, desperate resolve surged through her. Not resignation, but sacrifice. She couldn't save herself. But maybe, just maybe, she could buy Sreylin a little more time.
A foolish hope, perhaps. But in this world of despair, even foolish hope was something to cling to.
With a strength she didn't know she possessed, Lina pushed Sreylin backwards. Away from the massive crack, away from the all-consuming eye. "Run, Sreylin!" she yelled, her voice cracking. "Run and don't look back!"
Sreylin hesitated, her eyes wide with confusion and terror. "But… you…"
"Go!" Lina cried again, pushing her harder. "Please, just go!"
Tears streaming down her face, Sreylin turned and ran. Her small figure disappearing into the shadows of the temple. The sound of her running footsteps fading into the silence. Lina stood alone, facing the massive eye. Its gaze fixed on her, drawing her in.
She felt herself being pulled forward. Her feet moving against her will, towards the edge of the crack.
As she reached the edge, as the massive eye filled her vision, she saw. Reflected in its dark pupil, not her own face, but the face of Sreylin. Running, disappearing, a tiny spark of life fleeing into the dying world.
And then, with a soft sound, like a sigh, Lina was gone. Consumed by the eye, becoming one with the endless gaze. Leaving behind only silence, and cracks, and the watching eyes, forever multiplying, forever consuming. The doll lay on the temple floor. Its tiny eyes staring vacantly into the growing darkness. A silent testament to a world lost, and a sacrifice unseen.