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[zarzlvcx]

Chapter 1

Caleb is a 14 year old boy who is struggling with parents who can’t physically and mentally take care of his needs, as Caleb grew over time—he starts to realize how much his parents are narcissistic and emotionally immature. 

But overtime Caleb starts to forget about his self-value, and starts doubting his own worth and wondering why his mom treats him this way.

In this chapter, Caleb will start going through the challenges of facing the wrath of “Wow you look like your father!”, to the point he starts to wonder himself that he was only born to keep the legacy going alive.

——

It’s Caleb’s first day at school! He’s super excited because this is a school that his father went to, even though he barely knows his dad, he’s very excited! He steps out the bus and is greeted by the principal, the principal leads him into his office. Where they have a talk. “Hello Caleb, as you know.. this is a school your father used to attend to.” He says, Caleb nods happily. “I don’t really understand what’s the fuss about, but I’m happy to learn everything I can about him and graduate so I can help my mom!” He says. Caleb knew that was a lie, he didn’t want to help his mom. He never did. He wanted to just quickly move out the house so he can start working on himself and not become the man his father was. The Principal looked confused, “What do you mean learn everything about him?” He asked. Caleb felt his heart burst, not out of excitement—but out of fear, “What I mean is that he never really told me about his life when he was my age. He said I had to find out on my own.” Another lie Caleb told, his father wasn’t even present in his life. He hated that, how could he decide to just leave out of his life after basically committing to raising him. Caleb was starting to question his self worth before the principal said— “You really look like your father.” Those words struck Caleb like a truck, why was he being compared to THAT man. He’s never heard that statement in his life, maybe the principal was just lying. “I used to be friends with your father, he was kind of a trouble-maker but never bad friend to the people he loved.” Another lie the principal told, Caleb was starting to get annoyed. If that’s so true, why wasn’t he here with me and her. Before he could even form a reaction, the bell rang. The principal gave Caleb a paper and let him leave the room.

Caleb stepped inside the classroom, he always hated the way how he had to introduce himself. But who knows, maybe he  can make some friends. He stepped inside as the teacher signaled him to step up in front of the class. Caleb held his paper tight and stepped up front. “Hello, my name is Caleb and uhm.. I like to write and play music. I also like dogs.” He said, he felt himself cringe at the words he spoke. The have him a pat on the shoulder, “Eric! Raise your hand, you will now be sharing a desk with Caleb!” The teacher said, Eric raised his hands and the teacher signaled Caleb to go sit. As Caleb sat down Eric started to talk. “Hey! My name is Eric.” Eric said, Caleb wasn’t in the mood to talk. He felt annoyed for some reason, “I heard your dad used to come here, was that the truth?” He said. Caleb felt himself holding his fingers tightly, he didn’t want to hear another word about that man. Eric didn’t take offense to the quietness, he just sat his head down and focused on class. In the middle of class, Caleb was reflecting on the fact that his father had abandoned the family, and didn’t even hear much about him from his mother, who barely mentions him. He didn’t like that he grew up with a cowardly father to the point he left after a few weeks he was born, and a mother who didn’t feel the need to do anything with him because he was just the son of a coward. Caleb was looking around the walls, until he saw a grey group photo on the wall. He looked closer and saw a boy that looked like him. Caleb was confused, was that his father? He reached inside the desk only to feel a paper, it wasn’t the way to his classes and his Chromebook password. He pulled it out, it was yellow, a bit ripped. And looked old. 

He looked at it, he saw handwriting. It was sloppy but he could understand it, “Hello, my name is Jackson Wallis and I am 13 years old, I love my friends here.” Caleb could see the last name, Wallis. That’s his last name. No way, could his father be in the same class ON the same desk on purpose? No it couldn’t be, the staff wouldn’t set this up. They wouldn’t, then again he didn’t even know everybody at once. He stuffed the paper in his bag and went to focus on the class. After class he was stopped by his teacher, she looked pretty. Looked about in her 30s and she had a big smile on her face. “Wow so it really is true, you do look like him!” She said. Caleb was dumbfounded, “Haha yeah, that’s what they all say..” he says, his laugh was nothing but out of nervousness and slightest bit of anger. He didn’t like being compared to his dad, the only person who failed to take care of a kid. 

Some man he is..

School ended at 3:30, it wasn’t really exhausting, and only a few people said he looked like his father. In his case, that was annoying, but he managed to answer without any problems. As he got home, his mother didn’t dare to look at him, let alone cook something for him. She was on her phone scrolling, Caleb wanted just one glance—just once glance can help him at least, but of course—she never did, He went straight to his room, closed the door, and made sure to lock it before turning on the light. Caleb had at least a little respect for his mom—she didn’t care that he had a dog, and that worked just fine for him. She knew he was a clean guy, always on top of his schedule, and they didn’t talk regularly—or at all. His black Labrador lifted its head and let out a quiet bark. It was still young, its voice not fully developed yet. Caleb checked the time and saw it was time for their walk. He grabbed the leash, clipped it onto the dog’s collar, and stepped outside.

As Caleb walked down the quiet street, his puppy trotting beside him, he found himself wondering—why did he still yearn for love?

He understood the truth well enough. He hadn’t been loved enough as a child. That realization had settled in his mind years ago, like an old scar. And yet, for some reason, he wasn’t numb to it. Why?Why did he still feel that aching, empty space in his chest? It had been this way since he was six. Eight years. Eight years of distance, of silence, of learning not to expect anything. By now, shouldn’t he be used to it? Shouldn’t he have outgrown hope? But maybe that was the problem. Maybe hope was the thing holding him back.

The thought made his stomach twist. Hope. Hope for what? His life was already a mess—he knew that. He’d accepted it. And yet, some part of him still longed for something different, something better.

Caleb exhaled sharply, shoving the thought away. It didn’t matter.

He had a schedule to uphold. A life to live. A dream to reach. Those were the only things that mattered. Not love. Not family. Just his future.

His puppy barked softly, pulling him from his thoughts. Caleb glanced down, watching the small creature bound ahead, its tail wagging. A small, tired smile tugged at his lips. This dog was the only thing keeping him sane.

He bent down and scratched behind its ears, feeling its warmth, its unwavering affection. At least this love was real. At least this love wouldn’t leave.

Then, with a quiet sigh, Caleb straightened up and kept walking, pushing the past out of his mind.

For now.

Caleb got home from his walk with his dog. Silence. Just the occasional clicking of a remote, the soft hum of wind slipping through the cracks, the lights flickering on and off like they couldn’t decide whether to stay or go. The TV was on, but barely—turned down just enough to be background noise, just enough to be annoying.

It made his skin crawl. The emptiness. The stillness. This was what home felt like.

He exhaled sharply, shaking the feeling off as he headed to his room. No point dwelling on stupid things.

But as soon as he lay down, the thoughts crept back in. Why was he born into this life? To suffer? To repeat a cycle that wasn’t his to begin with? He refused to believe that. He knew he had a purpose.And it wasn’t to be his father’s shadow.

Then, that voice echoed in his mind again.

“You really look like your father!”

His chest tightened. His fingers curled into fists.

He hated that. Being compared to someone he didn’t even know. Someone who did nothing for him. Couldn’t they see? He wasn’t that man.

The anger simmered, bubbling up until he couldn’t hold it in.

“That man got MY mother pregnant and just left,” he muttered under his breath, voice shaking. “He’s a coward. A loser. A deadbeat nonetheless. If something happened to him, I bet no one would care. He’s the reason Mom is like this.”

His breath hitched.

The rage twisted into something heavier. Something almost unbearable.

He wanted revenge.

He didn’t know what that meant yet—what that would look like. But he wanted his father to feel the damage he’d done. To know the pain he left behind.

But then, just as quickly as it came, the anger started to fade. Like a wave crashing and pulling back.

He let out a shaky breath, staring at the ceiling. It was pointless. He couldn’t do anything now. Not yet.

Maybe he was just waiting for the right moment.

Caleb’s health was slowly but surely declining. He could feel it—the weight in his limbs, the constant fog in his mind. Yet, day after day, he pushed through the same miserable routine.

School was hell. The same whispers, the same stares, the same annoying comments—“You look so much like your dad!” It was beginning to feel like a broken record. Every time he heard it, something in his chest twisted, and his jaw clenched so tight it ached. He hated it. Hated how people spoke as if that was all he was—a reflection of someone else.

Then he’d come home to nothing.

No food. No warmth. Just silence.

Except for his dog, of course. The only living thing in that house that seemed to care he existed.

But Caleb didn’t notice how bad things were getting.

Not really.

That night, after his shower, he barely had the energy to dry off properly. His arms felt heavy, his legs weak. By the time he reached his bed, his body sank into the mattress like dead weight.

Tired. Exhausted.

His eyelids flickered as he took one last, empty stare at the ceiling.

Then, without another thought, he slipped into darkness.

The Dream

Caleb found himself standing in front of the mirror.

Why was he here?

The words “LIKE HIM” were scribbled all over the glass. The letters dripped, as if written in condensation—or maybe something worse.

He didn’t understand.

His reflection stared back at him, but it barely looked like him. Dark circles clung beneath his holloweyes. His hair was messy, damp, sticking to his forehead. His shirt was gone, exposing his too-thin frame, his skin washed out under the flickering bathroom light.

He looked dead inside.

In the dream, he felt dead inside.

He knew what this meant. He didn’t want to wake up. Didn’t want to go to school. Didn’t want to hear the same comments, see the same faces, feel the same emptiness.

Somewhere in the distance, he thought he heard his mother’s voice. A soft knock. Checking up on him. Rarely.

He didn’t move. Didn’t react.

His fingers twitched at his side, but he couldn’t bring himself to wipe the words away.

They wouldn’t disappear.

Not from the mirror. Not from his mind.

It was cold. So cold.

Colder than it should have been.

Caleb didn’t understand—his bathroom was never this cold. The air felt sharp, biting at his bare skin like winter wind slipping through an open window. But there was no window.

He took a shaky breath, but the air felt thick in his throat.

Was this a dream?

No. It couldn’t be.

He could feel the cold. He could hear the faint buzzing of the flickering light. He could see his breath in the air, swirling in front of him like mist.

Then his eyes locked on the mirror.

Words were written all over it, smeared into the glass in uneven, jagged letters.

LIKE HIM.

LIKE HIM.

LIKE HIM.

Over and over again.

His chest tightened. His hands curled into fists.

The mirror shouldn’t be fogged up like this—he hadn’t even taken a shower. So how were the words appearing? Who had written them?

Caleb reached out, hesitantly. His fingertips hovered just above the glass.

Then—

And just like that, the dream ended.

Caleb woke up gasping for air. His chest rose and fell rapidly as if he’d just run for miles. His skin was cold, like the dream had left its mark on him. He swallowed hard, trying to shake the unease creeping up his spine.

What even was that?

He stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, trying to gather himself. But the more he thought about the dream, the less sense it made. He didn’t want to think about it.

He turned his head to the window.

Morning.

With a deep sigh, he forced himself out of bed. He grabbed his clothes—baggy black jeans, a red overshirt layered over a long-sleeved one, and his usual headphones. After stepping into the bathroom, he turned on the shower, hoping the hot water would wash away whatever was clinging to him.

When he got out, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

His dark circles were worse.

Caleb tilted his head slightly, staring at his reflection, at the tired eyes staring back at him. For a brief second, he thought about the dream again—about the mirror, about how he had looked in it.

Then he quickly looked away.

He went to the kitchen, poured food into his dog’s bowl, and opened the door to let him roam. He hoped Mom wouldn’t do anything.

Right?

He slung his backpack over his shoulder and stepped outside, walking toward school. His body felt heavy, like he was dragging himself forward.

He was drained. So drained.

——

Caleb barely made it to his seat before his head dropped onto the desk. His arms felt heavy, his mind foggy, like he was running on pure nothingness.

Eric, sitting next to him, took one look and frowned.

“Yo… Caleb, right?”

Caleb slowly lifted his head. His eyes felt dry, like he hadn’t blinked in hours.

“Mhm,” he muttered.

Eric raised his eyebrows. He finally spoke.

“You good?”

Caleb just nodded once, barely moving. He wasn’t sure if he was answering honestly or if he just didn’t want to explain himself.

Before Eric could say anything else, the teacher walked in and started taking attendance.

“If your name is Caleb, please let us know!”

Caleb weakly raised his hand.

The teacher looked at him—really looked at him—and her expression immediately changed. In seconds, she was rushing over.

“Caleb, are you okay?” Her voice was urgent.

He blinked at her, confused. Was he okay? Maybe?

“If the face wasn’t evident, then I don’t know what is,” someone muttered.

The teacher straightened. “Eric! Take Caleb to the nurse’s office—he needs rest.”

Caleb wanted to protest, but Eric was already pulling him up.

“Come on, man,” Eric said, dragging him toward the hallway.

Caleb barely noticed how they got to the nurse’s office. He just knew at some point he was laying down on the bed, the room dimly lit, the faint scent of disinfectant in the air.

Eric leaned against the doorway, hands in his pockets. “This is my thanks, and your thanks to me is letting me skip class.”

Caleb weakly narrowed his brows at him.

Then, just like that—he was out.