Derek sat at the dinner table, and picked at the veritable buffet on the plate before him. The food was as delicious as it ever was, but it felt like ash in his mouth whenever the thought of the impending doom hanging over his head passed over his mind.
Sitting in the company of unknowable replacements soured his appetite. He couldn't trust the very people sitting before him. He couldn't trust anyone!
"I would appreciate it if you didn't start such conversations in front of our guest," crooned the loathsome beast that had inhabited his mother's flesh. The walls of the room shook with energy, as the echoes of the figure beyond space flooded Derek's home with its intention. His father looked noticeably ashamed at his behavior, but said nothing as she continued to speak. "Now, why don't you tell me how my favorite little lady is doing, this fine day?"
Sylvia beamed in response, spreading jam onto a biscuit that she had sliced in half only moments before. "Well, you know I couldn't start my day without getting to see my favorite person in the whole wide world!" She cast a knowing look at Derek's face, and he smiled politely, as he was trained to do.
"And you're my favorite person, too!" he lied. "I just love getting to spend time with you, every day. You make life a little bit easier to manage, as you know I don't have all that many friends."
"Hah! Really? Last time I checked, I think I was your only friend!" she teased him, with a warm loving smile. Every once in a while, it would seem like her true personality was leaking through, and that would give his heart a loathsome pang of nostalgia. It was a cruel act of malicious compliance, that felt like the creature was dangling his true hopes right before his face, but always yanking it out of reach when he reached out to grab it.
What did he care? He didn't need friends, or popularity. He was going to change the world, and no one would be able to stop him. He had the entire world in his hands. It wouldn't be long until the legacy would be secured, and all of human history would look back on this instrumental figure with marvel at his indomitable will.
His father took notice of the expression on his face, and remarked supportively. "Hey, buddy, don't worry about it. When I was your age, I spent a lot of time by myself, too. Why don't you try joining one of those extracurricular activities at your school? I'm sure you can make some friends, there."
Derek looked at his father with compassion in his eyes. It was obvious the effect that living under the shadow unknowably had on him. His spirit had been wholly consumed by nearly a decade of living under the same roof as an avatar of disorder, but he somehow had managed to retain a significant portion of his humanity. It's possible that the boy inherited a part of his talent for resistance, from his parents.
His father, who never appeared to fit in, in any standing; neither socially, spiritually, nor emotionally. That is, until he arrived in these forests, where all the misfits and rejects of the world come to escape on the path of burned bridges left in their wake.
The citizens of this small town was populated by outcasts. Everywhere you looked, there was a new story to be told. Men and women walked around with scars both mental, physical, and metaphysical. They had this haunted look—as if perhaps they would find it comforting to have their agency stripped—so as to leave no personal fault in their own past actions.
His father didn't seem to always have this look. There was a period where his face shone with the light of pride whenever he gazed upon his son, as if everything made sense, now that he had done at least one thing right. Slowly, this too was leeched from his features, as they found he could no longer connect with the only person ever thought to truly be understood, by him. Derek turned his face.
He couldn't look at the man so woefully crushed under the weight of the figure's present will. For, now, he could see how desperately his father's soul clambered against the oppressive might of the perilous shadow. All along, while Derek had been fighting for control of his own mind, his father had been slowly whittled away. Now, there was very little of himself left.
He covered his mouth, and ran to the door, exclaiming something about desperately needing to run, if he was going to make it to school on time. He was sure that it appeared like he was crying because of his loneliness, and embarrassment but he was more than happy to let them believe that lie as he rushed out of the driveway, and dove out of sight.
Sylvia winced, and laughed. "Heehee whoops! Sorry for making him run off like that. I think that was kind of my fault. I probably shouldn't have said that." She carefully replaced the cutlery, picked up what remained of the biscuit, and climbed into her feet. "I'll go catch up with him, and apologize."
"Alright, sweetheart, take care." Jen Alder replied, sighing, and resting a palm on her exasperated forehead. "Imagine leaving your friend behind to apologize on your behalf! You know you're too good for that boy."
Again, Sylvia had to laugh, and gave her a wink, before dipping out the door. "Oh, don't worry, I know. See you later!"
"Alright just don't slam the-" His father started, before he was met with the resounding clash of her ignorance as she rocketed out from their home. "front door....." he grumbled, closing his eyes.
Jen laughed, leaning over and kissing him on his forehead, lovingly. Then, with the most I told you so manner of speaking in her voice, asked "Are you regretting having kids, now?"
He shook his head. "No, I love kids! I just don't understand why they have to grow up, is all."
Sylvia caught up with Derek's retreating form, on the sidewalk. While he had grown into quite a strapping young man, himself, she was in a much better shape than he. It wasn't long until he had to stop to catch his breath, leaning on his knees and huffing in an effort to consume as much oxygen as possible.
He towered above her, now, which was a fact that made her simultaneously nervous and fascinated. It sent her imagination in a frenzy to picture him in anything other than his trademark hoodie and jeans combo—or God forbid, if he were to actually work out!—If she were to see that, then she'd just about die on the spot, for sure.
"Well, if it isn't the legendary crybaby himself." She teased around a mouthful of biscuit. "That was quite the exodus you made, back there. You know, it's really sexy when you show off your emotional side like that."
"Sh-shut up, you don't know what you're talking about." He wasn't in any mood to deal with her double talk.
"Sorry, I thought a compliment might improve your mood a little." she actually managed a sort of apology. "So, where are we actually going?"
Derek groaned. She followed him everywhere he went, whether he wanted her to, or not. Of course she knew that he wasn't going to class today. There was no way to keep his true life a secret from her, even if she didn't understand a lick of the ideology he rapidly explained to her, hundreds of times. She was just happy to see how his face shone every time he appeared so passionate about it.
"I am going to an auction today. The library is unveiling a bunch of old literature, out of storage, and they're selling a bunch of unpublished volumes in this big fundraiser. You're not coming."
She thought for a second, before speaking. "So, what book are we looking for?"
"I don't know much about it, but the title—It hasn't actually been seen for over a hundred years, and much of that span it was thought to be lost to time. I have a feeling that it's just the thing that I'm looking for."
"What's it called?"
"Book of Azathoth."