The darkest one of all is named Pitch, and he’s also my shadow.
Speaking of the devil, which he might be for all I know, Pitch doesn’t always talk to me. I guess he doesn’t really need to. His thoughts are my fears and my fears are his thoughts now. No matter where he goes, I can always sense him without looking. It’s inherent, not because I want it to be, but because we’re soul mates.
Literally.
The night that I died, I was the only light left within his swirling darkness, and he latched on to me by tethering my soul to his so we could both stay alive. He never meant for either of us to suffer and die. Only a child himself, he merely wanted to grant my birthday wish.