𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 ; 𝘉𝘺𝘭𝘦𝘳

𝟐𝟏.

Today

The red fluorescents lit up the room, cracks of color shinning through the door window. It's fiery tint only fueled his anger, as Isaiah was in a homicidal rage for what seemed like the fifth time that week. Meaning it was time to add another name to the list.

Someone he recognized was in the red room alone, viewing pictures off a camera. If he was calmer he'd remember who. Curly headed kid with lisp would do for now, just in case he said something about him being in here and needed to be dealt with like the others.

"You ok—" he said when he heard Isaiah's noisily grunting, before being cut off.

"Get out."

Without question, curly-headed-kid-with-lisp grabbed his bag shakily and walked out. Finally leaving the younger boy alone with his thoughts. The bad ones that he had to figure out how to contain before they became a reality. The little voices in his head telling him he's a pussy for letting things slide.

The only thing he was carrying was his knife (for defense and scratching the side of his leg) and his camera. Filled to the brim with pictures he was ready to turn into film.

There were a lot of people he'd been watching, girls, guys, adults, kids. But after surfing through them, there was one he knew he had to get out of the way before anyone else. They're presence in his brain drove him to near insanity. He needed to release them.

Isaiah was in there for hours, although for him, time went quick. After the picture was finally dry and laminated, he took it down and stared at the face on it in agony. Then, he took out a permanent marker. Drawing bold X's on both of their eyes. Smiling at his work.

"This ones for you baby," he whispered, hanging the picture back up.

It was one of an ecstatic Mike. Seconds away from being run over. Because there were some things he knew that he shouldn't have. Things he'd witnessed that no one knew.

Things he could've prevented if he wanted to.

Yesterday

Hawkins High | Fri 1:11 PM
Isaiah Cordero-Taylor

Death to him was only scary when it came out of no where. A freak accident or some psycho taking a life at random just for the hell of it.

In his mom's case, it was both. Or either or depending on who you asked.

One of Isaiah's last memories of her was how avid of a cheater she was. Keeping up with the amount of men and women she slept with was how he developed his stalker tendencies in the first place, believing that there's so much more you can learn about someone from observing them in the wild than pointless conversation. What he did not see coming was the fact that one of her hookups was equally as damaged as he was, wanting her all for herself and literally blowing up their marriage. Taking the 'if I can't have her no one else can' approach.

He'd never said it out loud, but he blames her for her own death. She could've had the decency to sleep with people who didn't work with her husband. Or the decency to at least wear the proper attire for a mine field. Her dress was the thing that set off the explosives. Or maybe it was the crazy ex. No one could figure it out and he wasn't interested either way. She's dead. No bringing her back. Although he could attempt to mourn her. Seeing as it was her birthday and all.

He through her ashes off a bridge surrounded by wilderness, connecting Hawkins to the rest of Indiana. Isaiah watched his reflection. Grimacing at the fact that he couldn't shed even one tear for her anymore.