Status: we all have secrets, some darker than others.
Drowning.
chapter two.
SHE WAS BROKEN, Isaac could tell that much. She was broken and scared and losing herself with every unsure step. He knew the signs. He lived through them – the constant fear of not knowing what was going to happen next, recoiling at every touch, hiding in the background, hoping no one would notice. That was his life before the bite.
That was what his father did to him.
He destroyed his youth, tainted his soul, and ruined his esteem.
To his father, he was stupid, ugly, and would never be able to rise to the amounts of his brother. He was constantly living in the shadows of his father’s past. To his father, he could have very well been the reason for his brother’s death. He was an abomination.
That was all over now, though. He didn’t have to live with that self-loathing anymore.
But that didn’t mean the memories just faded away. He still had nightmares every night of being stuck in that damn box, gasping for air, hoping for an escape. Nightmares of bloodied fingernails and bruised fists, of yelling and screaming at the top of his lungs and still not being heard.
Nightmares of almost dying at the hands of his own father.
SHE COULD HEAR THE PITTER-PATTER of the raindrops on the roof. It had been raining this hard since she arrived home that day. As soon as she made it home, she stayed on her bed and stared at the ceiling, hoping that it would somehow take her back in time, maybe make her disappear.
She had never been the weak type, never been one to let someone’s words get to her. But she had let his pierce her, and it had left scars for everyone to see. Everyone had noticed a change in her, well, everyone excluding her mother, who was never home anyways.
She didn’t blame her. Her mother had to work two jobs just so they could have a roof over their head. It had been this way since her father died when she was six. He had cancer and when he passed, her mother could hardly afford the medical bills and his funeral arrangements. She had to add working over time at her nursing job, and adding a third mortgage on the house just to pay it all.
She missed her mother immensely, she missed being able to talk to her and get advice from her – but it had been so long since they’d last talked, actually talked – that she didn’t know how to do it anymore. She couldn’t even talk to her mother anymore.
She made her way slowly down to the kitchen to get a glass of water – it seemed to be the only thing she could digest lately. After getting herself a drink, she made her way back up, only to be stopped when she saw the bowl – still filled with cereal – on the table.
The Lucky Charms had been there since that morning, evidence by the dissolved marshmallows in the milk. Her mother had made it for her – morning seemed to be the only time she actually saw her mother – and she had played it off as first day jitters. As soon as her mom left that morning, she followed close behind, forgetting the cereal.
Grabbing the bowl and making her way to the sink, she dumped the contents down the drain as lighting flashed the sky. In the mist of the rain, wind, and lighting, she saw a blurry face pressed against the glass.
“Hello, slut,” the voice, his voice whispered. Hands smacked the glass, causing Florence to jump.
She dropped the bowl. It shattered on impact against the metal surroundings. She ran upstairs, forgetting her glass of water behind her.
She could feel her sanity slipping with each passing moment.
She didn’t sleep that night.
Just like the night before.
That was what his father did to him.
He destroyed his youth, tainted his soul, and ruined his esteem.
To his father, he was stupid, ugly, and would never be able to rise to the amounts of his brother. He was constantly living in the shadows of his father’s past. To his father, he could have very well been the reason for his brother’s death. He was an abomination.
That was all over now, though. He didn’t have to live with that self-loathing anymore.
But that didn’t mean the memories just faded away. He still had nightmares every night of being stuck in that damn box, gasping for air, hoping for an escape. Nightmares of bloodied fingernails and bruised fists, of yelling and screaming at the top of his lungs and still not being heard.
Nightmares of almost dying at the hands of his own father.
And as much as he tried to deny it, he was just as broken as she was.
SHE COULD HEAR THE PITTER-PATTER of the raindrops on the roof. It had been raining this hard since she arrived home that day. As soon as she made it home, she stayed on her bed and stared at the ceiling, hoping that it would somehow take her back in time, maybe make her disappear.
She had never been the weak type, never been one to let someone’s words get to her. But she had let his pierce her, and it had left scars for everyone to see. Everyone had noticed a change in her, well, everyone excluding her mother, who was never home anyways.
She didn’t blame her. Her mother had to work two jobs just so they could have a roof over their head. It had been this way since her father died when she was six. He had cancer and when he passed, her mother could hardly afford the medical bills and his funeral arrangements. She had to add working over time at her nursing job, and adding a third mortgage on the house just to pay it all.
She missed her mother immensely, she missed being able to talk to her and get advice from her – but it had been so long since they’d last talked, actually talked – that she didn’t know how to do it anymore. She couldn’t even talk to her mother anymore.
She made her way slowly down to the kitchen to get a glass of water – it seemed to be the only thing she could digest lately. After getting herself a drink, she made her way back up, only to be stopped when she saw the bowl – still filled with cereal – on the table.
The Lucky Charms had been there since that morning, evidence by the dissolved marshmallows in the milk. Her mother had made it for her – morning seemed to be the only time she actually saw her mother – and she had played it off as first day jitters. As soon as her mom left that morning, she followed close behind, forgetting the cereal.
Grabbing the bowl and making her way to the sink, she dumped the contents down the drain as lighting flashed the sky. In the mist of the rain, wind, and lighting, she saw a blurry face pressed against the glass.
“Hello, slut,” the voice, his voice whispered. Hands smacked the glass, causing Florence to jump.
She dropped the bowl. It shattered on impact against the metal surroundings. She ran upstairs, forgetting her glass of water behind her.
She could feel her sanity slipping with each passing moment.
She didn’t sleep that night.
Just like the night before.
♠ ♠ ♠
Here you go my lovely readers. I'd like to thank all those who commented, you are the reason I keep writing. All of this feedback amazes me. I've never had a story this loved so quickly. I'm glad you love it so much.I am currently working on chapter three and I hope to have it finished by this upcoming thursday, but don't hold it against me if I'm a little late like this update.
For those of you who read my co-write, Matched, my chapter should be out early this week. I'm working on it today and tomorrow on my way to my vacation in Sarasota.
c o m m e n t s a r e l o v e.