THE DARK PART OF ME

Chapter 8: When the Darkness Calls

The night was heavier than usual, pressing down on Derek like an unseen force. He sat on the rooftop of the abandoned school building, legs dangling over the edge, staring at the city lights that flickered in the distance. His breath came in slow, measured intervals, but inside, a storm raged.

The voice in his head was getting louder.

It whispered to him, calling his name in the same chilling tone it always did when he was alone.

"Derek... you know you can't outrun me."

He gritted his teeth. He didn't need this tonight. He had spent years pushing it away, burying it under forced smiles and meaningless conversations, but lately, the darkness was clawing its way back—stronger, more persistent.

Then there was Caleb.

Caleb, who saw through the cracks in his mask. Caleb, who never looked at him with fear, even when he probably should have.

Derek let out a slow exhale and pulled his hood over his head. He was tired of fighting.

Just then, he heard footsteps behind him. Soft, hesitant.

"I figured I'd find you here."

Caleb.

Derek didn't turn around. "And yet, you still came."

Caleb walked closer and sat beside him, leaving just enough space for the silence to settle between them. "You weren't answering your phone," he said. "I got worried."

Derek smirked, but there was no humor in it. "Worried about what? That I’d jump?"

Caleb tensed. "Should I be?"

Derek didn’t answer.

Instead, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. The city stretched before them, a mess of light and darkness. It had always fascinated him how the two coexisted so easily.

"You ever wonder," Derek murmured, "if some people are just... meant to be lost?"

Caleb turned his gaze to him, studying his profile. "No one is meant to be lost, Derek."

A bitter chuckle escaped Derek’s lips. "Maybe not you. But me?" He shook his head. "I can feel it, Caleb. The darkness. It’s not just inside me—it is me."

Caleb frowned. "That's not true."

Derek turned to him, his eyes shadowed. "Then why do I keep hearing it calling me?"

Caleb inhaled slowly. "Because you're listening."

Silence.

Derek looked away, his fingers curling into fists. He wanted to believe Caleb—to believe that he could fight it. But how do you fight something that feels like it's part of you?

Caleb shifted closer, his voice softer now. "I know it’s hard. I know it feels like you’re drowning, like no matter how hard you swim, something keeps pulling you under." He hesitated before adding, "But you don’t have to do it alone."

Derek swallowed.

He wanted to believe him. He really did.

But the voice inside him only laughed.

The Riddle of Shadows

The next day, Derek found himself in the dimly lit school library, flipping through an old, worn book Caleb had given him the night before. The edges of the pages were rough, the ink slightly faded, as if it had been read by many before him. The cover bore no title, just a strange, embossed symbol that felt oddly familiar under his fingertips.

"I think you'll like this," Caleb had said, his voice carrying a knowing edge. "It reminded me of you."

Derek hadn’t asked what he meant. He had simply taken the book, feeling its unexpected weight in his hands, and now, here he was, drawn into its depths. It was filled with cryptic riddles and eerie poetry, each line more unsettling than the last. Some spoke of hidden truths, others of forgotten fears.

Then, one riddle caught his eye.

"I have no eyes, yet I see your soul.

I have no hands, yet I pull you down.

You run from me, yet I am always there.

What am I?"

Derek traced the words with his fingers, feeling the weight of their meaning settle in his chest.

He already knew the answer.

The darkness.

A shiver ran down his spine.

And somewhere, in the quiet corners of his mind, it felt as though something—someone—was watching.

A Poem of Two Souls

That night, as Derek lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, the words of another poem echoed in his mind. They whispered to him, circling his thoughts like unseen shadows creeping through the cracks of his consciousness. He wasn’t sure if he had read them in Caleb’s book or if they had always been there, waiting to be remembered.

"Two souls stand on the edge of fate,

One fears the night, the other waits.

One drowns in shadows deep and wide,

The other reaches—arms stretched wide.

One step forward, one step back,

The space between turns cold and black.

A choice is made, a line is crossed,

But in the end, who pays the cost?"

The words felt heavier now, pressing against his chest. He could almost hear them, as if whispered by an unseen voice just beyond the edge of his awareness. His fingers gripped the sheets.

Derek shut his eyes tightly.

His mind was playing tricks on him. That had to be it. He was exhausted, his thoughts tangled with Caleb’s riddles, the book’s eerie passages, and the lingering feeling that something was shifting in the space between them.

Or maybe…

Maybe the darkness wasn’t lying to him.

Maybe it was just telling him the truth.

The Breaking Point

Days passed. Derek tried to push the voice away, tried to drown it in the noise of everyday life. He clung to Caleb’s words, repeating them in his mind like a mantra, as if they could anchor him to something solid. But it was getting harder. The voice—the darkness—was growing louder, whispering things he didn’t want to hear, feeding emotions he didn’t want to feel.

The final straw came one evening after school.

It had started with a few words—casual, cruel, and laced with just enough venom to make Derek’s blood boil.

It was about Caleb.

Derek didn’t even remember the exact words, only the way they made his chest tighten, the way his vision blurred at the edges. He told himself the guy deserved it. That was all that mattered.

So he snapped.

Fists. Blood. A flash of rage so sharp it drowned everything else out.

The world narrowed to the impact of his knuckles against flesh, the satisfying crunch, the way the pain in his hands barely registered.

Then—hands pulling him back. A familiar voice cutting through the haze.

"Derek!"

Caleb.

Reality crashed back into him, the red mist fading just enough for him to see what he had done. The other guy was on the ground, groaning, clutching his face. Derek stood over him, chest heaving, his fists throbbing with pain. His knuckles were raw, split open in places.

And then he looked up—into Caleb’s eyes.

Caleb wasn’t angry. He wasn’t shouting. But there was something in his expression, something Derek couldn’t quite name.

Disappointment? Fear? Hurt?

"Is this what you want?" Caleb asked quietly.

The question cut deeper than any punch Derek had thrown.

He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

Because in that moment, with his heart pounding and his hands aching—

He didn’t know anymore.

The Darkness Calls

That night, Derek found himself back on the rooftop, staring at the stars. The cold breeze brushed against his skin, but he barely felt it. His hands, still bruised from the fight, rested on his knees, the pain a dull reminder of everything that had happened. The rooftop had always been his escape—his place to breathe when the world became too much. But tonight, even the open sky felt suffocating.

The voice had been quiet all evening, waiting. It didn’t need to push anymore. It had settled in, curling around his thoughts like a shadow that refused to leave.

"You can’t fight me forever."

Derek closed his eyes. He didn’t flinch at the voice this time. He was too tired. Tired of pretending, tired of resisting.

"Maybe I don’t want to," he whispered back.

The admission felt like a weight lifting from his chest—and yet, at the same time, it made the air around him feel heavier.

What was the point of fighting? Caleb’s voice had been there before, grounding him, reminding him of who he was. But now, after what had happened… Derek wasn’t sure if he knew that person anymore. He wasn’t sure if Caleb still saw him the same way.

The voice chuckled softly, almost fondly.

"See? It’s easier this way."

Derek exhaled slowly, watching the way his breath curled in the cold night air. Maybe it was easier. Maybe letting go was the only thing that made sense.

But then he thought about Caleb—about the way he had looked at him after the fight. Not with anger. Not even with fear.

Just… sadness.

Derek swallowed hard. He didn’t want Caleb to look at him like that. He didn’t want to lose him.

But the darkness was still there, waiting, patient as ever.

And for the first time, Derek wasn’t sure which part of him would win.