MY ROOM MATE BY ITORO ISAAC

WHISPERS BETWEEN SHADOWS

Chapter Five: Whispers Between Shadows

The night had settled over the town like a heavy blanket, one that smothered every familiar sound and replaced it with an unsettling stillness. My body longed for rest, but the house—this house I now shared with my enigmatic roommate—refused to let me sleep. Its walls seemed to breathe. The floorboards carried whispers. And behind the silence, there was always something waiting, patient and deliberate.

I lay awake, staring at the ceiling of my room, which was faintly illuminated by the streetlamp outside. Every flicker of the light seemed to create new shapes on the plaster, some of them so grotesque that my chest tightened. My roommate, Daniel, had long since gone to bed, or so I assumed. His door had clicked shut hours earlier.

But the thing about living with Daniel was this: I never truly knew when he was asleep. Sometimes, I swore I could hear his footsteps pacing the living room well past midnight, steady and rhythmic, as though he were practicing some ritual. Other times, I would hear murmurs—not in his voice, but deeper, older, like two men whispering through cracked stone.

I pulled the blanket closer and shut my eyes, willing sleep to come, when a sudden thud echoed from the hallway. I froze. It wasn’t loud, but in the suffocating quiet of the house, it may as well have been a gunshot. My heart pounded.

Should I get up? Pretend I hadn’t heard?

Before I could decide, the air shifted. It was subtle at first, but soon undeniable. The room grew colder, a creeping chill that started at my feet and crawled to my chest. I opened my eyes, and that was when I saw it.

In the corner of the room, just beyond the reach of the lamplight, something stirred.

It wasn’t Daniel. This thing was taller, its shoulders too wide, its limbs too long. Its outline rippled as though it struggled to remain tethered to the physical world. And then, two pinpricks of red blinked open where eyes should be.

I wanted to scream, but my throat locked tight.

The thing moved, slow and deliberate, dragging one leg as though broken. It leaned forward, the red eyes narrowing on me. My skin prickled with terror.

And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the door creaked open.

“Are you awake?” Daniel’s voice.

I blinked. The corner was empty.

Relief and fear tangled together in my chest.

“Yes,” I croaked, my voice barely audible.

Daniel stepped into the room, wearing a plain black shirt and loose pants, his hair disheveled. His eyes, however, were sharp, more alert than anyone’s should be at this hour.

“You saw something, didn’t you?” he asked. Not a question of curiosity. A statement.

My mouth went dry. “What makes you say that?”

He tilted his head. “Because they come when your guard is down. And right now, your guard is thinner than ever.”

The casual way he said it made my stomach churn.

“Who are they?” I demanded, sitting upright in bed.

For a moment, Daniel didn’t answer. He walked across the room, pulled the curtains shut, and leaned against the wall. The shadows clung to him, almost swallowing his frame.

“They don’t belong to this world,” he said finally. “And neither do I.”

---

The weight of his words pressed down on me.

“What do you mean, neither do you?” I asked. My voice trembled, but I needed to hear the truth.

Daniel’s lips curved into something between a smirk and a grimace. “You think I’m like you? That I’m just another student trying to get by?” He shook his head. “If you’d known the things that stalk me… you’d have run the day we met.”

I thought back to the countless strange occurrences since moving in with him: the flickering lights, the whispers in the walls, the way shadows sometimes bent unnaturally in his presence. And yet, some part of me hadn’t left. Was it curiosity? Fear? Or something else?

Daniel moved closer, lowering his voice. “They feed on fear. On doubt. That thing you saw? It was only a fragment. If you let it in… it will consume you.”

I swallowed hard, my skin clammy. “Then why did it come to me? I didn’t ask for this.”

His expression softened—barely. “Because you’re here. With me. And proximity is enough.”

The room felt smaller with every word he spoke.

“Tell me the truth, Daniel,” I whispered. “What are you hiding?”

Silence stretched between us. His eyes, dark and unreadable, studied me as though weighing the cost of honesty. Finally, he sighed.

“I wasn’t born like this,” he said. “I was… chosen. Bound.”

“By who?”

He gave a humorless laugh. “Not who. What. A force older than names. Older than language.”

I shook my head, trying to process. “This is insane.”

“Is it?” He leaned closer, his face inches from mine. “Or is it the only explanation for the things you’ve seen with your own eyes?”

I had no answer.

---

The following days blurred into a haze of unease. Every corner of the house seemed alive, humming with hidden energy. Objects moved slightly from where I’d left them. Shadows lingered longer than they should. Sometimes, I would catch Daniel staring at nothing, lips moving silently as though in prayer—or conversation.

And then came the dreams.

Night after night, I found myself standing in the same hallway. Endless, narrow, with doors stretching infinitely on both sides. From behind each door came faint noises: sobs, laughter, screams. I never dared to open one. Something in me knew the act would bind me to whatever was inside.

But on the fifth night, one door opened on its own.

Daniel stood inside. His face was pale, his eyes sunken, his mouth moving as though chanting. Behind him, shapes writhed in the darkness, dozens of them, each with those same red eyes.

“Run,” he mouthed.

I jolted awake, drenched in sweat.

The whispering began immediately.

At first, I thought it was in my head. But as I pressed my palms over my ears, I realized it was external—low, guttural voices rising from the walls themselves. They grew louder, overlapping until the words became unbearable. I stumbled out of bed and into the hall, my knees weak.

Daniel was there, standing motionless in the darkness.

“They’re getting impatient,” he said without turning. “They know you’re listening now.”

I wanted to scream at him, demand answers, demand release from this nightmare. But before I could, a shadow peeled itself off the wall and slithered across the floor like smoke. I stumbled back.

Daniel raised a hand, and the thing froze mid-motion. His voice, when he spoke, was unlike any I had ever heard—low, resonant, vibrating through the air itself. The shadow let out a piercing screech and dissolved.

Only then did he look at me, sweat beading his forehead. “You need to decide, once and for all,” he said hoarsely. “Stay with me… or leave now. There is no middle ground anymore.”

My throat tightened. I couldn’t answer.

Because deep down, I knew the truth: I was already in too deep.

---

[The story continues with creeping dread, revelations of Daniel’s pact, and the narrator’s slow entanglement in the supernatural world, until the chapter reaches its climax: a night confrontation where the house itself becomes a battleground between Daniel and the shadows. The narrator, caught in the crossfire, realizes escape is no longer possible. The chapter ends on a chilling cliffhanger, with the narrator glimpsing his own reflection in the mirror—only to see a pair of glowing red eyes staring back.]