Unveiling Darkness

Title: Unveiling Darkness

I sat at the bus stop, my mind consumed by dark thoughts. The weight of my twisted imagination felt like an anvil on my consciousness. I found myself wondering what would happen if I pushed the frail old lady standing nearby into oncoming traffic, a disturbing notion that I couldn't escape. Deep down, I recognized that something was amiss within me.

Am I crazy, Shadow?" I whispered, feeling the presence of my split personality beside me. Shadow my only companion, the one the church ladies labeled as a demon residing within me those self-procliamed holy church ladies are the real demons, not him – well, sometimes

My shrink, who understood me diagnosed me with multiple personality, but sadly he had tragically become one of my first masterpieces leaving me to navigate this chaotic existence alone.

Suddenly, Shadow spoke up, his voice dripping with a mischievous tone. "Ncawww, you missed me that much, didn't you?" His awakening surprised me, but his anger was still whispering

"Are you still mad at me, Shadow?" I asked, walking on the line between insanity and reality.

"Of course I am!" Shadow snapped. "You went on and created another masterpiece without me. You added to the tally of our works, but this is the first one you've done without my presence. I feel sad."

As I thought about Shadow's words, the sound of a car horn snapped me back to reality. I realized I had mindlessly wandered onto the road, a testament to my dying sanity . Perhaps I should have kept my shrink a little longer, but the funeral and those tiny biscuits had their own strange feeling a women was now a widow a daughter fatherless at my hand I got goosesebumps from the thought .

"Darn it, Shadow, quit taking over!" I screamed, trying to regain control of myself. "I need help!"

Eventually, I made it back to my dimly lit apartment. Seeking comfort, I longed for the light within my soul, the light that could only come from another human being or perhaps even a literal source of light. I reached for my collection of Shakespeare's works, which was quite interesting thank God for my English teacher

My apartment was small, with a kitchen, a one-bedroom, and a bathroom that had seen better days. I sank onto my bed, the sleeves of my shirt revealing faint scars. They were shallow but a constant reminder of my inner battle . I picked up the knife I had once bought for my mother on Mother's Day, hoping it held some symbolic meaning. I couldn't remember anymore. In a moment of desperation, I cut deeper than before, seeking release. Surprisingly, there was no pain, only a strange sense of relief that washed over me as I lay down to rest.

And then, darkness darkness that mirrored my soul

When I awoke, I was trapped in the scent of smoke, transported back to my childhood home. The scene was almost perfect, untouched by time. I knew what awaited me as I made my way to the kitchen. There she lay, my mother, surrounded by a sea of red. I thought wine but know the her wrists screamed a diffrent story

The smell of smoke intensified, threatening to suffocate me.

"Why, Shadow?" I cried out, my voice filled with pain. "Why are you showing me this? Why bring up this pain?"

Shadow chuckled, his voice tinged with amusement. "I was born on this very day, Daniel. I emerged from the flames of your suffering. You couldn't handle the fire, so you created me. And now, I go on to burn the world."

"Please, wake me up!" I pleaded, desperate to escape my past unfolding before me.

"can't you handle this sight, Daniel?" Shadow questioned, his tone mocking. "Are you still searching for what you've lost? The marks on your wrists serve as a reminder that embracing pain is better than shying away from it."

I felt a mix of emotions—confusion, fear, and actually no I felt nothing I was numb shit I'm bleeding out I cut too deep

Shadow wake me up Shadow for the love of all things holy wake me up I'm about to die

My eyes shot open I felt cold Dammit Dammit Dammit I'm reliveing a scene of my childhood laying in a sea of read

I should make a story form that line from my next English assignment my teacher was always amazed with my twisted writing if only she knew My writing was letting her have a glimpse of my soul but as Shadow calls it a cry for help but it wasn't

Damn, I'm losing focus. My hands are still bleeding, and I can't deal with this shadow take over. Oh, my word, you're cowering away at your own actions, Daniel. deal with it.

He went dark.

Maybe he's right. I stood up and went to the sink, grabbing the bandages and alcohol from the cabinet. I took a deep breath and poured the alcohol all over my hands. It stung, but I knew I had to do it. Time to apply the bandages. Looks like I'll have to wear my jersey for school on Monday.

I cut my wrists for release.

The scars are justified aren't they?

Damn, I'm tired. I'm really, really tired of everything. More than tired. Why am I feeling so faint? Why is my vision slowing down? Dammit, I'm about to faint. I've lost too much blood. I shouldn't have had a Macbeth moment talking to myself.

A ringing sound buzzed in my ear, and then everything went blank.

"You idiot," Shadow said with that annoying voice of his. "You collapsed due to blood loss. Are you suicidal? Dammit, if I knew I would be stuck with a suicidal kid, I would've kicked you out of your own body."

The house was on fire. Why, fire? Shadow?

Why me? I know I was a twisted kid. The acts I did, the pleasure I got from the fear of the animals that were about to die. But that doesn't justify what I went through at seven. Bloody seven. It's been eleven years since that day, and yet here I am, reliving it.

"Oh my word, you're depressing as hell, Daniel," Shadow said. "If I knew that having you in here would be so depressing, I would've just taken over. Dammit, boy. Yeah, your mom slit her wrist and torched the house. And yeah, you lost everything at the age of seven."

"I'm waiting for the 'but,' Shadow."

"There's no 'but,' dumbass. This is your life. You're the punchline of an awful joke. Kid, your life has been hell. I'm even shocked you made it to eighteen without popping fifty pills in your mouth. But that's it. Today you took a life. You created another masterpiece. Why him? That's the question his family and loved ones are asking."

"Losing everything at seven gave you the power to control death to become death Stop wallowing."

"Damn, when did you become so insightful?"

"Daniel, this is why I don't give advice. You're gonna get all soft on me. Bloody hell, what have I done?"

Idiot idiot idiot

Why is my mind trembling? Why am I shaking? Someone is trying to wake me up. Oh no, I'm going to be sent to the psych ward. The kid collapses on the floor with marks on their wrists. Damn, why didn't I lock the door?

"Daniel, Daniel!" Someone is shouting my name. Just let me die already.

My eyes snap open. The brightness is overwhelming, ringing in my ears. It's too bright. I whisper, "Please turn the lights down." And then it hit me: I didn't turn on the lights in my room. Why does it feel like I'm being pushed onto something? Bright lights surround me. I'm in a hospital. Damn, I whispered.

"He's responsive! Hey, boy, do you know where you are?" The man with an awfully loud voice asks.

"Yes, I know where I am, and please, can you lower your voice? It's quite annoying. Oh damn, I said that last part out loud."

The man chuckles. "Kid cut his wrists and still has a sense of humor. Teens these days. I blame social media."

I find myself lying in a hospital bed, but none of this makes sense.

"Yes, it does," Shadow says. "Someone found you passed out on the floor, lying in your own blood, and saved you. I wonder who this good Samaritan is so I can strangle them. This was the point you were going to deal with things on your own."

"Oh, there she is, sitting in that chair at the corner." I open my eyes slowly, trying to adjust them to the light.

"Hey, you're awake."

"Oh, she sounds female," Shadow remarks.

And indeed, she was. She had blonde hair, amber eyes, and fair white skin. But it was her eyes that caught my attention, as if they were a mirror into my soul she had the energy of those who think they can change the world

"Damn it, damn it," I said, an optimistic human being sitting in my room. Can this day get any worse, Shadow?

"Yes, it can. Wait, what do you mean?"

"Are you okay?" She asks.

The man from earlier walks in. "How's my patient doing? I need water," I whispered.

"You have damaged your wrists quite badly. You could have severed something important, kid."

"Damn it, I said I need water!" Shadow takes over in a split second, venting all the day's frustrations on the poor doctor.

"Mind over matter, Shadow. Control yourself. Mind over matter," I said before, taking back control.

"Sorry," I say under my breath. "I'm just really thirsty."

The doctor looked deeply into my eyes, his gaze unshaken. "Sure, kid. I'll get you a glass," he said calmly.

"Thanks," I replied

Suddenly, a gentle hand touched my wrists. It belonged to the woman who had saved me. "Wait," Shadow said, his eyes fixed on hers. "Her eyes are as dark as yours," he added, chuckling.

Mesmerized, I found myself drawn into her gaze, the warmth of her amber eyes holding me in a comforting embrace. Why was I feeling so warm? Was I blushing? It felt as though I were a moth drawn irresistibly to a flame. "Snap out of it, Daniel," Shadow commanded, breaking my trance.

"The name's Ashley," the girl said, introducing herself.

"I'm Daniel," I replied still shaken by her sight .

"Cool name," Ashley remarked.

I glanced down at my wrists and caught a mirror image of my own scars, reflecting the pain. In that moment, I realized the paradox of Ashley's presence: she radiated optimism, yet her soul seemed shattered.

As my gaze shifted upwards, Ashley flinched, and run out the room after catching me staring at her wrists.

"Here's the water, kid. And why did you go scaring your savior? Please tell me you at least said thank you," the doctor said, handing me the glass.

I accepted the cup of water and took a sip, quenching my thirst. "Oh, you're the quiet type," the doctor remarked with a smile.

The smile faded from his face, and the words that escaped his lips sent Shadow into a frenzy. Despite fatigue and severe blood loss, Shadow's inhuman abilities kicked in, flooding my entire system with adrenaline.

Time seemed to slow down as my feet hit the floor. My mind became laser-focused on the fountain pen sitting on the table. The urge to jam it into the doctor's throat surged through me.

Fear flashed in the man's eyes as he screamed . However, I couldn't hear anything as Shadow blocked out all external noise, consumed by his bloodlust. With only inches between me and him, I prepared to end him, fueled by his words about me and my mother.

In one quick motion, I casted the hand holding the pen towards his throat. But just as quickly, the man dodged, causing the pen to slice through the air. I readied myself for a second attempt.

But in the blink of an eye, my body realized the limits it had been pushed to. Exhaustion overcame me, and everything went black.

"The doctor should count himself lucky that your suicide attempt made us weak," Shadow said, his words laced with fiery resentment. "He should have perished."

I stared at Shadow, silent. Throughout all my years, Shadow had never lost control like this. It was unsettling, to say the least.

"Hey, Shadow," I said, attempting to reason with him. "You used to be smarter than this. Attempting to end a man's life in a hospital? What happened?"

Shadow turned to face me, his eyes filled with something other than his usual self. "Well, something took over. It wasn't me."

My eyes widened in disbelief.

And I woke up

"Ah, you're awake," the doctor remarked, breaking my internal battle . "You're quite the remarkable kid. After losing so much blood, I didn't expect you to move with such speed. It's impressive."

I smirked. "I guess my mom's continuous nagging on self-defense lessons paid off, huh?"

"Don't get any funny ideas, kid," the doctor warned, smiling. "You're handcuffed to the bed."

"Why are you afraid?" I asked, poison dripping from my words.

"Are you serious? Can you imagine an 18-year-old, trying to thrust a pen into your throat? It sends chills down my spine. And what amazes me even more is that you're not even concerned about the consequences of your reckless act. To be honest, I thought you were a decent kid, or at least that's the impression I got from your therapist. By the way, thank you for attending my brother's funeral."