'What is this chill I'm feeling?'
Isaac's world came to a strange turn, he had liberated himself from the cruelties of the Orphanage by murdering the proprietors in their sleep. Now, he's sitting in the living room of an old shack belonging to a blind old man. The past couple days were strangely awkward, Zack said nothing, kept to himself, and mostly slept. He's not used to this, he's not used to being fed, not used to someone casually talking to him, and most especially, not used to having someone show concern for him.
Just the memory of having the old man give him his coat sent his mind in a spin. He just killed a guy, yet the old man was unfazed, and simply tended to him, before filling Zack's head with a question for purpose.
'What will you do now?'
He doesn't know...but...deep down, he doesn't exactly want to leave this trashed shack. It just didn't feel right to just up and go, and besides, where is he going to go?
Zack stared at the scrap of paper onto the table, annoyance scrunched on his face from the frustration of being illiterate. It's been a few hours now since the old man stepped out. Isaac came to figure out that the old man's outings were routine, he left in the early morning, and came back around the afternoon or the evening. Time continued passing by, the light of the day hazed into the dark of night, and the old man wasn't home yet. There were no scraps to scavenge, or even any trace of food to pilfer through the shack, Zack's stomach was growling loudly, a familiar torment that the boy was accustomed to for years. A torment that agitated him.
'That old fart should've been back by now…'
Zack stared at the scrap of paper again, he can't read it, he can't understand the fucking scribbles on the paper. The boy grit his teeth and uttered an angered growl, before swiping the paper and shredding it into bits.
'They ran off, I just know it...I should've killed him when I had the chance,' he internally snarled, 'he's the same...they're all the same…'
That chill he continued to feel during his stay didn't leave him at all, instead, such a sensation increased. It was making his heart race, a palpitation he hasn't felt since he had ordinary skin. Following that, was a sickening twist in his stomach. Zack doesn't know what this strange feeling was, he doesn't understand it - he hates it.
Isaac angrily leapt out of the wooden chair he had been sitting on all day, and let out a loud, infuriated yell at the top of his small lungs. Adrenaline surged through his veins, giving him that same sense of a savage rush like during the night of his liberation. He was overwhelmed with an urge to destroy - to kill. The young boy grabbed the nearest thing in sight, grasping the flimsy wood chair, and held it up to throw it across the shack.
"What's all this fuss about?"
Zack paused in his actions, his heart stopped for a split second, and that rush of adrenaline suddenly ceased. The boy lowered his arms and glanced behind himself to see the old man entering the shack through the creaky door. The elderly man slipped his tattered hat off to set it at the table, before approaching the boy. Zack quietly set the chair down, and returned to his stoicness - albeit, he was internally kicking himself for jumping to conclusions so quickly.
"...What took you so long?"
"I apologize for the delay, I didn't mean to make you worry," the old man replied, then handed a small paper bag to Isaac. "There had been an incident near the riverside. The area was blocked off for a while, so I had to wait until everything was cleared up. From what I heard, there had been a mugging, which lead to an unfortunate end…"
The person was killed, there was no need to sugarcoat it for Zack. The delay though, all over a dead person, to Zack, it seemed like it should be no big deal.
"Such a shame...it seems every new generation is growing much more violent these days…" the old man sighed, pulling back a chair on the opposite side of the table to sit with the boy.
"...It's a kill or be killed world...people will do crazy things to live another day…" Zack muttered with a sneer.
This made the elderly man reflect on the blood he smelled coming from Zack, but again, he made no reaction to it, "...Hmm...yes, I suppose so…"
Then something recalled in his mind, "Ah, right...were you able to find my note? I'm afraid I can't really judge what my penmanship is like nowadays."
There was an awkward silence, before Zack let out a shy mumble, "...I can't read."
This surprised the elder, especially for someone Zack's age to be illiterate, it seems there alot to the boy that he did not know. It must've explained the anxiety he was able to sense from him as he stepped back into the house, still, a short chuckle left the man's lips.
"What's so funny? Are you laughing at me?" Zack growled.
"No, not at all...just laughing at myself," the old man replied, "I must've made the situation a little awkward. I apologize again, I wasn't aware."
The boy huffed before he opened the bag given to him, even just a crease opened, his nostrils picked up the scent of bread, and quickly assumed that it was freshly made. It was at room temperature now, but the scent was fairly pleasing compared to the hard bread he ate prior. Again, Zack's stomach growled, and the boy didn't hesitate twice to take a bite out of the soft loaf. He doesn't know if he was going to get used to this, he was so used to being discarded or treated like some sort of burden to kick around. This old man was treating him the opposite, he just keeps giving, with no catch to it. Such acts were making his survival instincts too befuddled to be suspicious of him or not, like he wants to keep his guard up, but at the same time, he doesn't want to be so defensive around him either. The old man remained the same, keeping that gentle nature, feeding him and providing a roof over his head, when he never asked for it.
He gives, without asking much in return, just the company from another person.
Isaac doesn't know what it all is, to give. He always looked out for himself, others would either die off or treat him like something other than human. The boy glanced over to the blind elder, and knew he went out of his way to get him fresh bread this time. For once, Zack went against his instinct of self preservation, and brought his bandaged hand up to tear off the other half of the bread.
The old man could smell the scent of the bread coming in his direction, Zack was offering it to him.
"It's yours, young man. You need all the food you can get to grow big and strong," the old man kindly declined.
"...Eat it…"
This made the old man pause for a moment, Zack was insistent on giving him a share of his food. This boy, who only kept to himself, and showed a strong distrust - along with an inner plight that he can sense. Maybe this can be a sign that he was coming around. The old man grasped the piece of bread from Zack's fingers, and bit off a small piece. The two sat there quietly as they've always done, now eating this freshly baked bread together.
"I have been meaning to ask...but I did not want to seem like I was prying, may I ask you for your name?"
"...What for? Why do you care?" Zack grumbled.
"Well, I can't exactly call you 'Boy' all the time," the man replied with a gentle chuckle.
Isaac stayed quiet for a moment, he was kind of right, and Zack probably wouldn't respond if he was referred to such a name, something that didn't show his individuality.
"...It's…" he reluctantly muttered, as if saying something so simple was choking his throat, "...it's I-Isaac...Isaac Foster...I'd rather be called Zack…"
"Isaac…" the old man mumbled, "...Isaac...that's a good name."
Zack could feel something else besides a chill within his being, a shy warmth creeping across his cheeks, and heating the bandages he wore on his face. It's awkward to hear something about him that wasn't demeaning, and hummed out a faint grumble. He doesn't know how to react to it.
His mismatched eyes returned to the blind old man, "...What about you?"
"Just calling me 'Old Man' will do," he replied. "I guess it would be simpler anyway."
Zack gave the man a pout, not like he could see his reaction anyway. Still, it felt like his question was kind of dodged. Then, he watched him carefully get up, and shuffle over to the other side of the shack.
"Well, since you've told me that you can't read, I'm afraid I can't exactly educate you like a normal person would these days," he said, "...however, I suppose I can teach you my way of being able to read. Even the outside world can provide these kind of texts."
Isaac raised a brow, as the old man pat around one of the dingy furniture, knocking aside some bottles, until he grasped the item he was looking for. As the old man returned to Zack's side, he set down the item he was searching for, a book. Before the boy could question, or even complain about his illiteracy, the elder opened the book to show that it was devoid of words, each and every page had an array of different bumps lining the page.
"Ever since my vision began to fail, I had to teach myself to read this way," the old man said, "...this is Braille, it helps the blind read like any other person. Since I can no longer read ordinary text, perhaps I can teach you to read Braille too."
"Right now?"
The old man softly chuckled, "It's quite late, I think it would be better to do it tomorrow when we're both fully rested."
He closed the book, leaving on the table as a silent promise.
"If you do wish to live here, I think it's about time this place should get tidied up as well. It wouldn't seem right to have you live in such a mess," he continued.
"...I'm used to it…"
"Hmm, that may be...but I think a change is always good for everyone," the old man said. Like before, he showed his kindness to Zack, by giving him a gentle pat on the head, and draping his torn coat around his shoulders, "Get yourself some sleep."
The elderly man shuffled his way to the bedroom, with the sound of light patters following behind. Zack could see an orange feline making its way into the bedroom for a quieter place to sleep. It must've went into hiding, especially after Zack's sudden outburst earlier. Once the bedroom door closed right behind him, Zack sat there to stew in his own thoughts. He finished eating the last bits of bread, before dusting the crumbs off his bandaged hands. This old man he's come to stay with really was a complete opposite of those in the Orphanage, he just gives, while they always took. Not once has Zack ever asked for any of it, but, he really doesn't want to complain. Honestly, these passing days had been feeling both strange, but oddly fulfilling. This blind man treats him so much differently, not as a monster or a tool, and shows no sign of even considering it. Then, there was the way he talked to Zack, even if it was simple ramblings about the day, his tone was always soft and calm, unlike the venomous words he came to adjust to.
Isaac actually gave something to someone, it was a behavior he would never show to anybody, especially when it came to food. The bread given to him, it was incredibly tasty, much better than the stale bread that he consumed the other day. Deep down, Zack knew he couldn't live on just bread alone. The boy has lived on trash for the longest time, but still, he did devour different things that he considered palatable. His instinct to scavenge stirred within him, but also something else, a strange need to give something in return to the old man. Something did poke in the back of Isaac's mind though, he knows the blind elder was living in squalor, the trashed shack was proof enough, and the man's disability certainly wouldn't bring in income to help get food. Like Zack, this man must've scavenged as well - it explains the hard bread.
"Why do I even care about it?"
The boy paced about the room for a moment, he's feeling a mixture of agitation and anxiety. No one cared about his existence in such a way the old man is doing now, and it's bothering the hell out of Zack. Is repaying this strange gesture a proper way to react? Maybe like before, when he admitted his act of murder to the old man, he could try and test a reaction.
Isaac pulled off the coat that was draped around him, and dropped it onto the couch he had been sleeping on in the past few days. He quietly made his way into the old man's room once again, there was one thing he wanted to confirm for himself. His heterochromatic eyes spotted the tattered wallet kept on a cracked dresser, and didn't think twice to open the small, leather pouch. Just as he thought, only pennies were inside. This old man sacrificed what very little he had to get him actual, edible food. Isaac grit his teeth, he feels this sense like he's too much trouble for someone like this man, but not once has he complained or shown regret for it.
Company just isn't enough for repayment, Zack feels like he's taking from him, another person who's just struggling to survive another day.
'Maybe this is why it's bothering me so much…'
His mind was made up, Isaac set the wallet down, and left the room. He was going to seek out another victim tonight. As Zack stepped out, he paused in his steps, and recalled that he disposed of that large kitchen knife. It had become dull and twisted, incapable of stabbing or even slitting a throat to help commit the deed of killing. The boy grumbled in annoyance, he needed to be resourceful if he was going to take someone down. Zack walked around the house to find at least something of use that he can wield as a weapon. Just near the back of the house, he found piles of wood, possibly to be used to warm up the old shack during the colder weather. Well, the man isn't going to be using it now, given the warm season it was now. Zack picked up a large chunk of wood, and decided to get a good feel for it. He swung it a few times, getting a better grip on the blunt object to prevent it from slipping from his fingers. It may not do a quick job like a knife, but at least beating the shit out of someone will suffice.
Isaac set out into the nearby town, maybe if he's lucky, he can bump into another drunk.
Like before, there was barely a soul wandering around in the dead of night, except for the usual drunks leaving their favorite bars to head home. Zack walked down the alleys, if he got a kill there, then maybe he can do it again. He stopped in his tracks, and saw the stain on the ground where his last kill happened. Zack had this deep compulsion to smile at his work. Just knowing he killed a person made him feel satisfied, but that smile faded as he recalled the old man's reaction.
'What will you do now?'
He still doesn't know...but for now, he just wants to pay the old man back.
A sound suddenly caught Zack's ears, a loud and exhausted yawn. The boy turned his attention to the noise, and saw a man shuffling down the alley. It's obvious the man was worn out, he was wearing a suit, which he lazily unbuttoned with a tie dangling on his neck. He looked like he was about to fall asleep any second. They were perfect, this man wouldn't have the energy to fight back, more or less even realize what hit him. Zack hunkered down behind some trash cans and gripped the piece of wood tightly. He was like a predator stalking prey just before the moment of striking. As soon as he caught a glimpse of the exhausted man's back, Isaac charged, reeling his arms back to swung the blunt object at the man's knees to cripple him, then swung again to strike the victim on the head.
It took seconds to topple the person to the ground, and Zack was overwhelmed with a rush coursing through his veins - that very same rush he got from his last kills. He smirked at his handiwork, and stood over the motionless victim, however, he noticed that they were still breathing.
"Tch...I didn't kill them...one more blow to the head outta do it…" Zack muttered to himself, "...to hell with it, I liked using that knife anyway…"
Killing this unconscious person would be a waste of time, he only came out for a different purpose anyway. Not like this person saw who ambushed him, and not like they would remember anyway. Zack knelt down to the man's level and began to pilfer through his pockets, pulling out the man's wallet and quickly scrounging through it for whatever he had. There was a big wad of cash inside, but he wasn't sure if it was alot or very little, since he was uneducated. Didn't matter anyway, he only cared about it being enough to pay the old man back.
Isaac pocketed the bundle of cash, then tossed the pseudo-leather wallet onto the incapacitated man's face. It was time for him to go back to that dirty old shack, and go to sleep. Finding his way back felt natural, even though this was the second time leaving the place, it was almost like the path back to the residence was already imprinted on his mind. The front door was so damn loud as he slowly pushed it open, the hinges were definitely worse for wear due to age and disrepair. The old man would wake for sure.
"Zack?"
Yep, he woke him up.
The elderly man tiredly shuffled out of the bedroom to check on who entered his home, "Zack, is that you?"
"...Yeah…"
"Did you step out again?" the man asked.
"...Yeah…"
An expression of concern grew on the elder's face, but also a strange sense a relief.
'This child does not smell of blood this time…'
Before he could inquire Isaac's need to be out so late, the blind man felt Zack grasp at his hand. The boy's hands were covered in some sort of cloth, yet, his permanent dark vision couldn't help him figure out if it was just scraps of cloth or gloves on his hands. Zack turned his hand over, then quietly placed something within his withered palm, and judging from the texture, it was obviously money.
"Take it..." Zack quietly murmurs. "It's yours…"
The boy's mismatched eyes focused on the old man before him, he appeared a bit stunned to be given this, almost at a complete loss for words. There was also another mix in the man's expression, a faint hint of remorse, which left Zack confused and curious.
"Thank you, Zack...but you didn't have to go out of your way for this…" the man said.
"I did…" Zack replied, his eyes trailing down to the dirty floor. "I'm just sittin' around doing nothing...while you're doing all this stuff for me…when you didn't have to."
The elderly man appeared confused, "What do you mean?"
"...I'm a monster, but you keep treating me differently from everyone else…it's the least I can do, I guess…"
"Monster?..." the old man repeated, "...I don't believe you're a monster at all, you seem to be quite a fine, young man."
Isaac felt something besides that uncomfortable chill, like something within his chest twist, and fill him with a strange warmth. This made the boy grasp at his chest, and blink a couple times from a strange sting coming from the corners of his eyes. The man's words showed no signs of a lie - but Zack's self-doubt wants to tell him that this blind man is only being naive.
Naive or no, the old man meant every word - to him, Isaac was a poor and misguided child.
Zack grit his teeth, as his throat tightened, and a sound struggled to choke itself out from him. No one ever said such a thing to him before. All he's ever heard were the same heinous insults - monster, freak, tool, and the like. Even if it's just a small word of kindness, it meant the whole word to this broken boy - it made him feel normal, for once.
"...Thank you…"
Everything after that, the old man held true to his words. First thing that was done the following day, the old man dedicated his time to teaching Zack how to read Braille. It was confusing at first; after all, it was just bumps, and his wrappings didn't help at all. Zack tore off small pieces of the cloth, leaving just his fingertips bare to help roll his scarred digits over the array of elevated lettering. It seems he'll have to make a change on how he wrapped up his body.
The old man was rather descriptive on every different bump within the book, demonstrating which one were letters, symbols or numbers - rows of six bumps total, but all assorted into different patterns. Though pairing all of them into a word appeared so foreign in his mind, yet, the man showed his willingness to aid him in piecing them bit by bit, until it all began to make sense. The book was a collection of weirdly assorted sentences, something the old man called poems. They seemed like mere rambling to Zack, but all he cared was he can finally read something.
After days have passed, the shack was finally getting the clean up it needed. The old man held open a large bag for the trash to be thrown in, while Isaac picked up every scrap of paper, trash, and old alcohol bottles strewn about the place. The cat wasn't making it so easy, and often pawed at the balled up pieces of paper before Zack could have a chance to pick them up. The boy huffed in annoyance and picked the cat up by the scruff of the neck, then hovered the feline over the bag. He had no intention of dropping the animal in, but it amused him to tease them in such a way. He set the orange tabby back onto the floor and gave it a pat to shoo it away, while him and the old man were busy.
With a large bundle of the trash being disposed of, the shack was growing comfortable.
With the bulk of the scattered mess disposed of, the floors were swept, while the old man cleaned the windows. Isaac was accustomed to being used when the Orphanage was completely trashed, but he was forced to do it, the old man was quite calm and polite when he asked him. He asked. Giving Zack the option to say yes or no - not like he was going to decline anyway, but knowing that someone actually bothered to ask, it made him feel good inside. The old man wanted aid, not a tool.
Their little shack was feeling a little more like a home.
"Zack...are you still here?"
"...Yeah, I'm in the livin' room, Gramps!"
Several years had passed, the place they called home was nothing like the ramshackle shack Zack first occupied. It was kept clean, and no longer had a musty scent lingering in the old wood. There was also a change in Zack as well, he was an adult now - 20 years old, and much healthier than the emaciated boy he once was. He had grown tall, and thanks to Zack's vicious muggings, even his selfless instinct to aid the elderly man, he had built up some muscular bulk. No longer was Zack a frail boy struggling to live another day, he was a force to be reckoned with. Just that one robbery that day wasn't going to be a one-time thing, it was a test on how he would do it, aside from repaying the old man for taking him in. After that, Zack had been committing savage muggings every other week. It helped keep his profile low, and the two didn't exactly spend their income luxuriously. They did, however, get items that were their biggest priority, like food, and new clothing.
For now, Zack was lounging on the couch, his eyes were closed for a moment, as if he was trying to take a short nap, like he often did since living with the man. His attitude towards the elder changed as well, it was obviously clear when he made the decision to stay with him. Ever since the old man told him that he was not a monster, the blind man earned something Zack never given to anyone - trust and respect. To be given the name Gramps was definitely proof enough of it. Zack would've never bothered to care to learn for names, or even give names to go by for someone. This old man clearly affected Zack in his youth, in a positive way.
The old man, now known as Gramps made his way through the home, tapping his cane here and there to listen to his surroundings. Ever since living with the young man, he's developed a sixth sense of knowing where Zack's presence was. Gramps set his hand on the cushion of the old couch, and glanced in the direction where Isaac would be.
"Ah, there you are...have you seen the cat? I haven't seen him in days…"
Zack lazily opened an eye, "Hmm? Just shake a bag of food, that always got him runnin'...hell, break out the can, I've seen him go nuts over that."
"I have, but I never got any response," Gramps replied.
Zack raised a brow, that was new, even having them just suddenly disappear seemed so unlike the mischievous orange tabby. He knows damn well he didn't scare off the creature, the feline was rather quite friendly and playful to Zack through the years. To have it not respond to their usual beckoning made the man curious.
"Hmm...maybe they're out catching mice again…" Gramps prattled, "would you mind going outside to check for me?"
Seemed easy enough, "Yeah...gimme a few minutes…"
The young man rolled himself off the couch, and made his way out of the shack. Honestly, he didn't have the heart to tell his doubts to Gramps. The cat was becoming just as old and frail as the old man himself, and its fiery orange pelt grew dulled and gray over the years. The feline was even showing its lack of life, it slept much more than it used to, lost interest in chasing whatever Zack waved in front of it, and even catching mice didn't appeal to it. The feline didn't really have much fangs to subdue its prey anyways, just one dull fang remaining in its aging mouth.
Still, he needed to find where the tabby snuck off to.
Zack began to click his tongue, followed with soft whistles to beckon the cat, and alert it of his presence. Normally the simple calls worked, but like the old man said, there was no response. He decided to try and lightly clap his hands in another attempt to get the animal's attention. Again, the feline was nowhere to be seen.
"Hey cat, where the hell are ya'?"
Isaac walked around the shack, and glanced at a tunnel underneath the wooden building, obviously dug by some sort of vermin in the past. To him, he knew it was the cat's favorite spot to hunt and catch all sorts of prey that lurked underneath. He may as well give it a look, and internally hope to god nothing leaped out at him.
"You in there?"
Zack got on his knees, and peeked into the small tunnel in hopes of finding the missing feline. His eyes focused to see anything that lurked in the dark, and to his relief, he saw the familiar striped pattern of the tabby's coat. Maybe the cat was becoming deaf too, that's why it never responded to the usual sounds. The cat was curled up underneath the shack, like the usual position it preferred when it took a nap. If the cat really was losing its hearing, then maybe he should wake the animal up gently, as to not startle it. Zack slid a hand inside of the tunnel, and reached for the cat's ear to give it a gentle rub. His exposed fingertips felt at the soft fur of the cat's pelt, but as his hand gently coiled around the feline's ear, he sensed that the body was cold to the touch - cold as the dirt in the Earth.
The young man froze, and felt a churning pit within his stomach. The cold stiffness within the feline's body, and its lack of response to sound, even touch, there was no other explanation. From the short, torturous years of growing up in the Orphanage, along with being completely surrounded by this similar situation, Zack knew what was wrong - the cat was dead.
"...Shit…" he quietly muttered, "...the old man isn't going to like this…"
Simply telling Gramps that the cat was dead wouldn't be enough, he was honest to the core, but Zack wanted to present the evidence of his find to the old man. He carefully reached further into the hole, and carefully pulled the curled corpse out. The cat really did look like it was sleeping as it often did. Perhaps this was the reason for the cat's disappearance, the cat must've figured their time was up and went to find a place to die. An all too familiar scenario with the children who suffered in the Orphanage with him.
Zack carried the body with him, as he walked back around the shack, and entered through the usual creaky door.
"Did you find the cat?"
"...Y-Yeah…" Zack replies, "...but, I don't have any good news about it…"
Gramps stayed quiet for a moment, he was curious what the young man meant by that, but also worried - was the cat hurt? Sick? Or worse?
Zack raised his arms up to present the deceased feline to the blind man, watching him halt in his steps, and bring a hand up to feel at what was brought up before him. A familiar soft pelt, but a cold stiffness to the touch. Gramps' expression was neutrally shocked at first, before it shifted to a sadness.
"...I see...this is unfortunate…" he said with a somber sigh.
"...Sorry about this…"
"It's not your fault, Zack," Gramps replied, "I'm glad you let me know what happened. This is the course of nature, and he had lived a full life."
Gramps retracted his hand, and gently nudged Zack out of the way, so he could exit the shack.
"Come with me, I'll need your help."
Isaac raised a brow, but followed the elderly man outside of their home. For some reason, he was still feeling this disgusting twist within his stomach, and a sense of dread looming over him - like a terrible deja vu. He followed Gramps to the other side of the shack, and watched him set aside his cane to reach for something else. Within the man's wrinkled grasp, he saw a very familiar tool - a shovel. Zack froze up, his stomach sank, like it was being weighed by so many stones. Memories flashed within his head of those horrible nights of being forced to bury corpses, being used as a tool. Just the shovel alone was a symbol of his mental torment. His hands shook, his throat tightened, and a need to escape began to flood in his mind. Isaac doesn't want to relive it, not now, not with Gramps.
"Could you help pick out a spot?" Gramps calmly asked, "I'm afraid I won't be of any help, with my faulty eyesight."
Isaac's anxiety driven thoughts suddenly ceased from the old man's words, leaving him numb and confused, "...W-Wait...you just want me to find a place to bury it?"
Gramps lightly nodded, "A place with flowers would be wonderful, I think they'll love that…"
This sent Zack's thoughts in a stir, it confused him, the cat was just a corpse now, so why would it matter where the body was buried - aren't corpses meant to be disposed of?
"Why? The cat's already dead, so why is finding a spot such a big deal? We're just getting rid of it, aren't we?"
Gramps gently shook his head, with his expression showing a hint of sympathy - it seems Zack let slip a little more of his past without thinking much about it. Even after trying his absolute best to educate Zack through the years, there was still much for the young man to learn, and alot more to life for him to experience. Where ever Zack came from, the old man knew that deep down, it must've been a harsh and unforgiving environment. Like before, he made no attempt to pry.
"No, we're giving him a proper place to rest," Gramps said, "he's been a loyal companion for all of these years. I think for the memories we shared with them, the best thing we should offer them is a peaceful burial. They deserve that, wouldn't you agree?"
Isaac stayed silent for a moment, then glanced at the feline in his arms, he's so damn used to disposing of corpses like trash, and always assumed it was just normal to do so. However, to Gramps, he's treating a burial like it was a farewell to an old friend. The more he looked at the cat, it did appear peaceful, like it was still asleep - maybe that's how they went, and simply passed on as they slept underneath the house. Zack's thoughts were in a spin, what was the truth to him?
He shook himself back to his senses, and walked onward to lead the old man into the forested area near the shack. A place with flowers, just like he had asked. This still seemed so strange on Zack's end, his mind keeps trying to replay all those times he was forced to bury bodies for the purpose of just getting rid of it, but now this situation is so much different. This body was going to be treated respectfully. Even though it was a corpse now, to the old man, it was still their companion, now locked in eternal sleep.
Zack noticed a small patch of wildflowers, and stopped in his tracks, "Hey...I found a spot…"
"Oh you did? Wonderful. Thank you, Zack," the old man said, as he walked up, then gripped onto the shovel to put it to work, "Alright, I'll take care of this."
Gramps dug the blade of the shovel into the earth, he didn't have an awful lot of strength to push the tool in further, and even used his foot to stamp the shovel in a little more. Isaac just stood there and watched, knowing that the old man was having difficulty picking up the piles of earth. It was obvious to see that he was struggling, but determined to dig a hole for the small burial site. The need to step in was stirring within Zack, but his legs were frozen. Memories made him wish to avoid having to touch that god forsaken tool, just looking at it keeps haunting his thoughts and senses. Those brutal nights, even the freezing rain that made the wet bandages stick to his skin, and chill him to the bone - such memories continued to feel so vivid, so fresh, no matter how many years have passed. Even still...he can't leave the old man to strain himself…
Zack set the deceased animal down, and walked up to Gramps. The old man sensed something grasp the hilt of the shovel, and prevented him from digging any further.
"I'll take care of it, yer' gonna kill yourself, Gramps…"
The old man turned his attention to where Zack's voice came from, "It's alright, Zack, really...I got this."
"Nah, ain't havin' it...just chill for a bit, I'll finish up…"
There was no use arguing with Zack, Gramps came to learn that once the young man set his heart on something, there was no changing his mind. The old man stepped back to let Isaac finish digging a hole for the burial. Like what he's accustomed to, Zack stabbed the tool into the earth, and lifted a large pile of dirt to the side, before doing it again to deepen the small pit. Doing this task often made Zack feel angered and disgusted, but for some reason, he wasn't getting this sensation at all. Even shovelling at the dirt wasn't causing a spike in anxiety, it only felt like Zack was doing just another simple chore.
'This is so fucking weird...why isn't it bothering me anymore?'
Isaac's mismatched eyes focused on the old man nearby, and watched how he patiently waited for him to dig the small grave. Those who had wronged Zack would force him to do whatever they pleased - he was not a human in their eyes. For Gramps, it was another story, the old man's requests were always approached so calmly, and within good reason. Sometimes, Gramps didn't even need to ask, Zack would just do it on his own. That thought alone made Zack pause, what he's doing now was his own decision, as a human being - not a tool. There was no way this feeble old man would even consider such a thought to come across his mind. In the cloudy-white eyes of the old man, Zack was envisioned as a lost child, not as a monster or any such words, just as he told him all those years ago.
'You seem to be quite a fine, young man…'
God, those words still hit Zack hard.
"Zack? Are you finished? You've been quiet for a while…"
"Ah...s-sorry, I kinda spaced out for a second," Zack replied, before digging up one more pile of earth, "alright, the hole should be deep enough."
"Thank you, Zack," the old man said. "Let's give our friend their final place to rest."
Zack set the shovel to the side, so he could pick up the curled up feline he had placed on the ground. He turned around and saw Gramps stumble for a moment, like he had tripped upon something.
"Ah?! Shit, you alright?"
"I'm fine, clumsy me...I think I ran into a stone," the old man replied.
He knelt down to investigate what he had struck, and just as he assumed, it was indeed a stone, and a fairly large one. It must've been buried in the wooded foliage that Zack didn't see. Even though it almost caused a small accident, this large stone seemed to be perfect for what else was needed for the grave - a tombstone. If Zack stepped in to finish digging, then he could at least add the final touch to it.
Zack watched the old man pick up the large rock, and feel at the soft earth underneath him to judge exactly where the dug grave was, before setting it in front the small pit.
"There, now he has a proper grave," Gramps said. "Let's send him off…"
Isaac glanced down at the feline, then knelt down before the grave to carefully put the corpse inside the small ditch. This really was a different kind of scenario compared to disposing of bodies back in the Orphanage, it almost felt kind of somber. It's hard to believe that so many years passed by, since he even met with this cat, hell, even experience what it was like to play with an animal that didn't fear him.
So, this is what the old man was implying to Zack; this kind a burial was to show respect those dear that have passed on, while back in the Orphanage, those who passed were only regarded as trash. The young man's world continues to feel like it was being turned upside down with every passing year and every new experience with Gramps. Yet, he never once complained about it, this kind of culture shock only left him more curious. It wasn't left without a bitter taste in Zack's mouth, and how he was disgustingly lied to, for using him, and for making him assume that what he had done was normal for a burned freak like himself. It made Isaac grit his teeth and clench his fist in a growing anger.
"Rest well, old friend…" the old man spoke up. It snapped Zack out of his dark thoughts, and focus his attention back to the elder nearby. He had the shovel in hand to push the dirt over the body to finalize the burial. On his face, was an expression that he was at peace. With the labor done, Gramps turned his head, and softly smiled to Zack, "If you want to, you could leave them some flowers."
Isaac stared at the mound, he had to internally admit, he really did grow fond of that mischievous, orange feline through the passing years. Maybe, like the old man, he could consider it a friend - unlike the children who never lasted long in the Orphanage, those he never became attached to. The wildflowers that were strewn about the plot they had picked for the burial, perhaps the cat would really like that; he even recalled watching the tabby bat at a few flower petals for no particular reason, other than play. A half-grin creeped upon Zack's lips as he knelt down and plucked a couple of the wildflowers, he set them onto the soft dirt, as a way of giving the cat something to play with one last time.
"See ya' later…"
Zack stood back onto his feet, and dusted off the dirt that collected on his pants. He walked over to the old man to grasp the shovel from his hands, and offered to guide the blind elder back to the place they called home. It was going to be a little less occupied now, but Zack did learn something today. He learned the more human side of one of his biggest torments, that not everything was done for the most selfish and heinous of reasons - but out of honor and respect to those that meant alot to someone.
Living with this old man continued to feel like he was in some foreign territory, but he was willing to continue staying and learn there were more sides to life than the mercilessness he had grown accustomed to.
Another change occurred during Zack's stay with the old man, this change was an effect on how those within the town viewed him. Just stepping out into the open during the day, especially with the way he looked, was anxiety inducing. There had been times where he either wanted to cut people up for staring at him, or run off to hide his grotesque appearance. When the populace noticed he was following the old man, even helping him out, some people seemed to have fawned over it.
Isaac was the boy that Gramps adopted. Or simply, the shy boy that followed the blind beggar around. After a few trips, no one really questioned Zack's presence; to them, he became another regular.
Though, some people did continue to stare, due to his bandaged face, which Zack learned to just wear another article of clothing to make him appear a little more normal, either using a scarf, a face mask, or even a bandana. When he had to run errands on his own, he even took to wearing fingerless gloves to help him read the Braille words, and make sure what he was asked to fetch was the correct item. Even some of the shop owners called Zack by name. It was weird, very weird, to have people just say hello to him in such a friendly manner, and to refer to him by name like they were already on friendly terms with him, because he was a regular. This was hard to adjust to, and hard to realize that in town, he became normal.
Today was a grocery day, Zack followed Gramps down the street, as they carried paper bags filled with assorted food in hand. Isaac took care of the heavier items, while Gramps carried the lighter groceries, like bread, eggs, and cheese. The two continued down the sidewalk, until something nagged Zack to halt in his tracks. Something was nearby, just hiding in a small alley near a row of townhouses. Isaac leaned in to peek at what was lurking in there, and noticed a small figure sitting against the wall of the building. It was a small human figure. Zack's eyes focused in the shady dark, and saw that it was a young girl. Her expression showed a somber hollowness. Not only that, Zack could pick up a faint whiff of blood. There were slight visible bruises, and the girl was wiping her nose - most likely, the blood Isaac detected.
There was no question that this girl was having it rough. He's seen that kind of look before.
"What's yer' story?"
The man's voice startled the girl, and quickly glanced in his direction. He saw an odd look of relief, as she noticed who was there - just a simple stranger to her. The girl tightened her lips, and turned her head away, as if she had something to hide. Not only that, Zack was still a stranger to this hollow girl.
Isaac breathed out a faint huff, "...Whatever…"
The man backed away, so he could head back to Gramps. The old man had noticed Zack's presence had lagged behind, and patiently waited for him to return.
"Ah, there you are...did something happen?"
"Nah, it was nothin' important, let's head back home…" Zack replied.
Both Isaac and the old man continued their walk together, while they carried their share of groceries to the edge of town.
Back in their home, both Gramps and Zack placed away their food in their respective places. The old man never questioned where Zack got his money, but he was relieved that he wasn't coming home smelling of blood. He assumed that Zack must've found a better outlet for his lost sense of purpose. It was helpful as well, Isaac's selfless contributions bettered their lives to make their living arrangements much more like a home. Even now, Zack used the money he collected to get them a couple of appliances to help them store and cook food without the fear of it spoiling. Zack took out a couple of eggs they had just bought, before putting it and the cheese into a mini fridge he managed to buy with the stolen money. He had gotten a hot plate as well, he knew damn well the old man had a gas stove, but there was one problem - fire. With what he had, Zack wouldn't have to get near that dangerous element.
"Gonna make lunch...ya' hungry, Gramps?"
"I am a little hungry," the old man replied.
"Kay, sit tight."
It wasn't just reading that the old man taught Isaac, he even taught him basic mathematics - which was a huge help in Zack's muggings, and even how to cook. It's mostly basic meals that were made, since it's what they mostly could afford - more or less, stuff into that tiny fridge. Zack wasn't exactly a great chef, but whatever he cooked was still very much edible.
That night, Isaac sat on the couch, seemingly wallowing in thought. The young man was staring at his hand, uncovered, as his gloves laid beside the furniture on the floor. He stared intensely at the specks of scars littering his skin, and brooded with a sense of inner disgust. How is everyone able to treat him like an everyday person? Internally, he's happy that the old man took him in like one of his own, and even made him feel a sense of acceptance these past 7 years, but still, it can't wipe away the horrific memories burned in his mind. Not to mention, this inner desire he continued to feel since he first picked up that kitchen knife; life may have been calm all these years, but that sinister urge to shed blood was only kept at bay, due to his muggings.
'What if Gramps wasn't blind...would he still have taken me in?' he thought to himself, then recalled the woman he murdered next to her car, '...or would he see me as a monster?'
Being covered in blood didn't seem to affect the old man, but, how would he react if he really knew what Zack was? What he kept hidden underneath his bandages...
"Hey, Gramps…"
The following morning, the old man was making a pot of tea for him and Zack. He turned his attention to the direction of Zack's voice to inquire what he needed.
"What is it, Zack? Do you need something?"
Isaac bit at his bottom lip from anxiety building up within his being. If he showed him, how was Gramps going to react? Hell, how was he going to react? His throat got tight, making it difficult and painful to swallow, while his heart thudded hard against his chest.
He needs to know…
"...Do you still not think of me as a monster?"
Gramps raised one of his bushy brows in confusion, it's been a long while since Zack shown his self-loathing to him.
"Of course, Zack...I meant what I said. You're not a monster," Gramps replied, "...what's with the doubt?"
Isaac took a couple deep, but frantic breaths, the unknowing outcome was making him nervous - after all these years, he was so damn nervous if everything turned to hell now. He doesn't know what to do, or what he'll do. Zack pushed a sleeve back, and unwrapped one of his arms with a shaky hand. He can see more of his skin, littered with rigid scars, obviously caused by burns. An unwilling disfigurement that he absolutely loathed about himself. Zack collected his chaotic thoughts, and picked up one of the old man's hands, and placed it on his arm.
Gramps paused for a moment, actually feeling skin underneath is calloused fingertips. He can feel the warmth of Zack's skin, but also an unnatural firmness in some areas. Scar tissue, that's what it was, and there was alot of it. This is why Zack called himself a monster, a freak. His body endured a permanent trauma that must've left him believing this was he was now. His expression lowered to an empathetic and somber one. This must be why he was mistreated so badly, before stumbling upon this young man. Gramps breathed out a soft and saddened sigh, as he felt Zack's bunched sleeve, then quietly pulled it back down to cover his arm back up.
"Zack…" he beckons, "...you are not a monster. You are just as human as I."
Zack's heterochromatic eyes widened. He was speechless to Gramps' words, even his show of kindness, no matter what. He's going to accept him, he's always going to accept him. This made the young man choke back a foreign sound for a moment, while he felt that familiar sting in the corners of his eyes again. What was this he was feeling? It was like the chill he once felt before, but it was overwhelming. An emotion he doesn't know, or even able to grasp. His breaths had a faint shudder at first, and quietly sniffled to himself. Zack blinked a couple of times to make the sting within his eyes fade.
Blind or not, Gramps would've taken him in anyway, to which he was grateful, but unfortunately, he doesn't entirely know all of the trauma he endured; the trauma that continues to haunt his mind.