Return of Nitemare

(CW depersonalization, emotional self harm, social judgement)

You were about nine, you think, maybe eight, when you realized your Aunt was scared that you were Shadow.

Not scared of Shadow’s ability to control you or what he could do in your body, no.

Scared of you being Shadow.

It made several things make sense. Your aunt had been giving you these weird sideways glances when you’d stood in the darkest corner of the room. Her shallower breathing and strange concern seemed odd to you, like a non-sequitur. No amount of promising her that you were just recovering from a very bright recess at school could get her to finally relax.

Another time, at a doctor’s appointment you were sure that she had paid for herself, you had sat still and quietly read from Highlights as you waited. You’d enjoyed the puzzles more than the stories, but the doctor’s office had to share them with everyone. It was no fun when other people did the puzzles, so you never did them yourself. That month someone had written to Ask Highlights about feeling like their classmates found them weird for being paranormal. Before that article, it had always seemed like it was just you. So of course you wanted to show Aunt Dee, and -

Looking over and seeing your Aunt pretending to not watch you had crashed your mood and your plans withered and died.

You couldn’t force yourself to keep reading, and you tossed it aside. Watching her relax as you began to squirm with boredom was more than awful. You could feel it crush your soul.

Puberty had brought alongside it fresh problems. You could pretend to not notice your aunt’s discomfort at your face. Everyone knew you looked like Vulpin. Everyone. A girl in your 4th hour social studies class saw it the most, judging by the way she leaned in when she talked to you and could never wait to be around you and work with you.

You were so not interested.

But it was impossible to not notice how Aunt Dee started getting anxious as your voice dropped. You didn’t get the grace of a slow, gradual deepening. It couldn’t have taken much more than six months for your voice to stop sounding like a child. One day, getting home from school, Aunt Dee had jumped in her seat as you said hello, knocking her coffee across mom’s table and lap. She’d been very apologetic, helping clean up and apologizing to you. Still, she had flinched as you spoke, painfully bad at keeping her discomfort hidden.

So you did what you had to. You learned how to fidget and mess around instead of behaving yourself. You gritted your teeth and stood in the brightest spots you could bear. Mom and Aunt Dee were frustrated by your behavior, but at least they stopped acting afraid.

You learned how to raise the pitch of your voice. Talking hurt for a while. Every moment you could manage was spent drinking enough warm cider and tea so that you could pretend it didn’t. Eventually, you could talk again, and the ease in your aunt’s demeanor made it worth it.

When Shadow expressed interest in math and science, you decided to focus on history. Literature. People. People were important. Science and Math were just there to help those around you, they didn’t matter on their own.

You tried to throw out the dark clothes in your closet, but found them safe on their hangers every time. So you just stuffed them into drawers, and it seemed to be fine with that.

It talked way too formally, hah! It sounded so stuck up and conceited. You didn’t need to talk like that, everyone thought you sounded like a douche when you did that.

People grated on its nerves. God, they exhausted you too, but they seemed to be well meaning. You got used to it. It wasn’t as painful as the voice. People were what was important. Having friends gave you a reason to be there.

You became a friend, confidant, helper, apprentice. People started looking at you as that, and not the weird little shy kid. But even when they looked right past you into the funhouse mirror of what they wanted you to be-

People stopped seeing Shadow.