There used to be a child named Isaac. His parents loved him very dearly, and they taught him in their home. His dad taught him technology, and his mom taught him religion. Everything was perfect, until Isaac's parents began arguing. They would scream about their issues, and that was when his father left. Isaac and his mother lived alone in a small house on a hill. Isaac played with his toys and drew pictures. His mom overdosed on pills and watched Christian broadcasting on the television. Life was simple, but not very happy. Isaac's mom tried to cope the best she could while Isaac hopped into the chest, trying to escape the hallucinations that there was monsters and his own mother, wanting to kill him. Isaac's mother, unaware of the absence of her child, started blanky at the television, engaging with Christianity to the point of brainrot. She went to bed and laid there. She was not coping well. Time passes by and Isaac has been rotting in his toy chest. His mother woke up with a terrible start to the morning. She couldn't even get herself to eat. Instead she went into Isaac's room, opening the long-locked chest. First, the flies came out. When she finally opened it all the way, Isaac's skeleton was all there was to be found.
"Isaac!" his mother wailed out in pain.
She couldn't even see through her tears. She felt so much pain that she couldn't even step outside. She couldn't even watch any broadcasts.