FOSTER CHILD | PETER PARKER

𝐗𝐗𝐕𝐈 | unanswered questions

FOSTER CHILD | ACT TWO
scene twenty-five: unanswered questions

ISLA SAT AT THE EDGE OF THE COUCH, narrowly watching Vincent as he escorted his mother out of his apartment. The two were engaged in a very heated conversation that seemed to have lasted for minutes.

"You alright?" Vincent asked.

Isla faintly nodded, brushing away a few strands of loose hair that fell in front of her face. In truth, she wasn't okay. She was just forced to relive multiple traumatic memories over and over again but she couldn't just outright tell Vincent that.

Isla was aware that Vincent was a self-centred airhead and wasn't even aware of his Isla's powers, but she wasn't exactly sure if he knew about his own mothers' powers.

She grabbed onto her head and rubbed it for a bit. She wasn't sure if her brain was hurting from all the prodding or from all the unanswered questions that whirred around her head. All she wanted was to be back in the comfort of her bed and sleep her thoughts away if that was even possible.

Isla stood up from the couch, wobbling slightly. Her grandmother had taken a toll on her. "I should go."

"No, you're not in a state to walk around at night."

"Night?" She knitted her brows, looking at Vincent strangely. "It's only seven."

Vincent mimicked her expression, "Isla it's nearing nine PM."

Isla looked out the window. The sun had just started to set by the time she reached the apartment block and now the sun had disappeared, allowing the stars and moon to take their turn illuminating the sky.

Mrs Harrington was going to kill her. She was due to be home over three hours ago. If she was late by an hour or so she could've easily blamed it on the subway being late or blamed it on the train breaking down. But three hours? She could have walked all the way home within two, she had no excuse to use other than the truth. My mind was endlessly prodded by my psycho grandmother who helped realise that I, Isla Foster, am secretly a killer.

Vincent noticed the panicked expression on her face, "I can take you home if you want."

She walked towards the window, pushing the curtains aside with her finger to get a better look. A herd of drunk men heckled at younger girls as they stumbled throughout the block. Isla grimaced at the sight. She wasn't familiar with New York nightlife, after all, she had been permitted to do anything outside past five PM for the last two weeks.

Isla sighed, she had no choice but to take upon his offer if she wanted to get home safely. "Alright."

Vincent smiled, loudly clapping his hands together. He hovered behind Isla as she guided her out of the door, taking two large jackets off the hook. One for him and the other for her.

Isla slithered her arms into the black jacket, waiting for Vincent as he locked his apartment door. Vincent smiled down at her, sliding his house keys into his pocket as he walked past her. Isla followed him as they made their way down the stairs.

She was confused as to why he didn't take the elevator as he lived so far up the building but then again nor did Lego boy and Ben Parker, well from what she remembered anyway, so she didn't think much of it.