The Isaac Effect., chapter 1

THE TALE OF ISAAC

It lasted five years.
Five years that neither I, nor anyone around me would forget.
I didn't speak. No one spoke. We sat in silence.
For the first couple of days, we didn't leave. We didn't go out, we wouldn't have moved unless we had to.
Soon enough THEY started to talk again, to operate as normal.
As for me, I never went back. I never spoke another word. I just drowned in pity, sadness and depression.
For what had happened had affected me more then anyone else.
It had traumatized me, leaving a scar on my bare skin. A wound that would never heal.
The memory's of it hurt to much to re-call. But it was that very day that I lost my identity.
When I sleep at night, I live in fear that the nightmares will come back to me. The nightmares that were my reality.

The shouting, the constant fighting.

The tension building

The blood shatter.

The screams.

I saw it all. With my own eyes. There was nothing I could have done to save her. Nothing I could have done.
I knew it.
Yet the guilt ran though my mind, the questions of what I could of done still keep me awake at night.
But soon every one forgot. Every one forgot.
As for me, I never will. It's a travesty that will stay with me forever.
Not only did they forgot about what happened, they forgot about me. It seemed that I had vanished into the shadows. Away from every one else.

I was seven years old back then.
When it happened.
Five years latter it still rots and carves away at my brain. Peaking away at my very soul.

Five years ago something happened.
Something that changed me for ever.

I herd a loud bang, followed by an ear piecing scream. There was another bang, this time louder.
The screams continued. Only they got louder, and louder.
Then she came dashing desperately, tears steamed down her frail, and dead white face.
She slammed the door. Gasping for breath she stood with her back pushed against it. Her bright blue eyes looked at me. The tears feel.
I held tightly onto my teddy bear. The tears nearly came, the wrenching in the back of my throat. I held it in.
She looked at me. In her torn night gown, a long deep cut across her shoulder.
She barricaded the door shut as best she could.
"Isaac! Hide you have to hide!" she hissed.
I did as she said. I scrambled for the kitchen cupboard. I slammed the door behind me, I hid and watched through the crack in the door.

The kitchen door that my mother was trying to barricade came crashing open.
My dad came barging in.
Instantly he forced my mother to the ground. Viscously, violently thrashing her around.
As he brought her to the ground he bashed her head against the bench top.
Her bleed badly.
She screamed.
She screamed my name.
"ISAAC!"
It echoed in my ears. The tears came, only this time I didn't try to stop them.

I huddled up against the back of the cupboard. To scared to come out, yet unable to take my eyes away. My whole body shivered. It was like the tubes in my neck refused to take in any air. I felt so cold.
I huddled up, right at the back of the cupboard. I had never felt the taste of fear until that very day. I dared not blink, not to make a sound.
I watched intently, as my father smacked my mother across the face with his bare hand.
She plummeted heavily to the ground.
She let out a roar. A cry for help.

The police sirens echoed through the windows.
They were coming.
My mother just kept on screaming...
Screaming my name.
I covered my mouth with my hand to stop myself from screaming back.
I dug my nails into my face.

Then it happened.
My father, in an uncontrollable fit of fury tore up a knife from the draw.
He stood over her beaten body.
His face as red as a fire truck, his eyes filled with rage. Almost bulging out his skull.
"You'll pay! You'll pay for what you did!" he roared. Yelling loud enough to be herd in china. Then. He rased the knife into the air. Above her.
He brought it down at the speed of a lighting bolt.
He cut across her throat.
The blood splatter every were.
Over the window cell... Over the floor. The blood poured from my mother body like the rain pours from the sky.
She stopped moving. She stopped squirming. She lay still. I tried to shout.
The colour drained from her face as the blood drained from her body.

My father stood over her, breathing heavily. I tried not to call out for her. But I couldn't help it.
"MUMMY!" I squealed.
My father instantly jolted in the direction of the cupboard where I was hiding.
He knew were I was.
My heart beat raced.
Pumping intently in my chest.
He slowly walked towards the cupboard.
What was he going to do to me? It thought. The tears feel.
I tried to shuffle back further into the cupboard. But my back was already firmly pressed up against the back wall.

Suddenly the kitchen door came crashing in.
Five or so police men came plundering angrily and quickly through the door.
Guns raised and all pointing at my father.
He stood in the middle of them. Next to my mothers body.
They ordered him to put his knife down. He refused. Then persisted to wave the knife and threaten the police.
With no other option they fired.
Three bullets pieced threw his chest.
The force of the bullets made him fall backwards.

He squirmed for a bit.
Then stopped.
He was dead.

I was an orphan.

NO! I screamed inside my head. The tears didn't stop now.
It cant be! It just cant be! I screamed over and over in my mind.

"MUMMY!" I screamed out loud.

That's when the police man herd me.
They all herd me. Yet none of them saw me.

"Shit! There's a kid in here!" one of them panicked.
"Hello? Any one there? Its okay, its safe now. You can come out," one of them called to me. As he circled around the kitchen looking for me.
I didn't dare move.
I was to afraid. To traumatized. To petrified to reply.

"Come on, come out!" he called again.
Trying to fake a friendly voice.
I still didn't reply.

I tried to hold it back.
But I got the tingly feeling in my noise. I couldn't hold it back.
I sneezed loudly.

They knew were I was now.
I watched as one of them placed his gun down on the floor. He knew I could see him, even though he couldn't see me.
"See kid. I'm...we're not going to hurt you," he said as he slowly approached the cupboard.
He slowly opened the door.
I whimpered back.
He reached in and grabbed me.
He pulled me from the cupboard. I tried to resist, tried to hold onto the edges of the cupboard. I kicked and yelled.
"Get off of me!" I screamed.
He was far to strong.
He dragged me from the cupboard, kicking and screaming.
He carried me out side.
I didn't stop screaming, or kicking, or crying for that matter.
"MUMMY!" I yelled.

"Shhhhh! Its okay kid. Clam down," the police man tried to comfort me, he tried to stop me struggling.
Eventually I felt to exhausted. To sick to carry on.
I collapsed, burying my head into his chest. I sobbed.

"Every things going to be okay," he reassured.

It never was.

And that's only the beginning of my story. Five years ago now.