Back with another Binding of Isaac one-shot! As stated in the summary, this one has major spoilers for the true ending of the game (the new one in Afterbirth +). If you do not wish to be spoiled, turn back. This story also deals with the character's death, so if you do not like this type of work, turn back.
As always, I do not own Binding of Isaac, and see the author's for details.
Enjoy!
Left Behind
She watched the missing poster tear off of the tree.
She could barely see it blow within the wind.
Her eyes were too blurry with tears.
Tears…
Tears…
How many tears had he shed?
She remembered there'd been tear stains when she… found him.
Found him… That word took on a different meaning, now.
She couldn't remember how long she'd been searching. But she'd hung every poster she had, and called his name so much her throat grew hoarse.
But there was no sign of him, and no answer back.
He had to have been somewhere… Somewhere she hadn't looked…
In the corner of the basement, she noticed the dusty old toy chest.
He couldn't be in there, could he?
No, why would it be in there? And if he was, why hadn't he responded?
She bent down to open the chest, but then noticed it was locked.
She didn't remember locking it…
But perhaps she did and just forgot…
Rapidly, she undid the lock, and peeked inside.
The room was later filled with her piercing screams.
Even though there was not much there, she knew she had found her son's bones.
She spent the day crying, she remembered.
What was she going to do without him? How did this even happen?
She didn't have the answer to those questions, only that this thing did happen.
And now, as the days continued to wear on, she glanced towards his room.
She couldn't bear to touch anything, let alone go inside it…
It reminded her too much of him…
But she had clean it out eventually…
Everything was just sitting and collecting dust.
And it's not like her son would ever come back…
Slowly, she opened the door. Her face went white, and it was as if she couldn't even feel the doorknob in her hand.
What would be in there?
Would she find answers to what happened?
She hoped, but at the same time, perhaps she didn't want to know…
The door slowly creaked open, and she glanced around…
There didn't seem to be anything unusual.
Was there any explanation for why Isaac did what he did?
There wasn't one, it seemed.
Until she looked at the wall.
Her breath caught, and her face grew even paler.
A scream threatened to rise from her throat, but she forced back down.
Instead, she made herself to stare at the wall, and its distressing content.
After all, it could hold the answer.
The wall was littered with drawings. Isaac's drawings, she knew.
Of course he was drawing. That wasn't anything unexpected.
No, it was the content of the drawings that had her shocked.
The drawings could have been woven a tapestry, as they seemed to tell a story.
And even though the story didn't have many words, she could easily read what her son had written…
It began with a picture of the three of them.
Yes, Isaac enjoyed being together with his parents…
And he enjoyed the little house they lived in, as a picture below it showed…
Near it was another picture, this time of Isaac's cat, Guppy. Isaac smiled wide, and so did the cat. She thought she could also see a little heart above them both.
The cat… Isaac loved it so much… She'd never seen him smile so wide as he did when he got it…
Yet not every drawing had Isaac smiling.
Isaac was playing with his father…
His father…
Isaac had been so close to him…
Even with all the fights…
Yes, the fights…
Of course Isaac must've seen them. They were everywhere…
And that was what the next drawing depicted.
She felt herself shudder.
Why couldn't she keep her arguments better hidden?
If she had, Isaac might not have…
No, she couldn't say for sure whether he wouldn't have done what he did…
Isaac most certainly wouldn't have seen what happened…
But he wasn't stupid.
He would've at least figured out something was wrong.
Yes, Isaac probably would've noticed when his father left and didn't come back.
She tilted her head back and remembered.
What were she and her husband fighting about the day he left?
She didn't recall. Something silly, she supposed.
But what mattered was that poor Isaac got dragged into it.
He must've felt responsible.
And that guilt led to this.
Something she would never forgive herself for.
She didn't remember the fight, but she remembered the aftermath.
She had sat in front of her television, her blaring shows not interesting her.
Instead, she let her tears fall freely.
Her vision blurred, but she could still see something.
Out of the corner of her eye, she registered Isaac about to enter the room.
He hung onto the wall, innocent eyes going wide as he witnessed what was happening to his mother.
Clearly he'd wanted something, but she hadn't paid attention.
No, she'd been too consumed in her own grief.
If only…
If only they'd grieved together that day…
If only she'd listened to him…
What happened in the chest would have never…
No, she couldn't say for sure whether it wouldn't have happened.
But she didn't know she couldn't wallow in grief any longer.
At least she could find her answers.
And she had a feeling the drawings might be a clue.
So she turned to study them once more.
At least the next picture depicted a happier scene.
Isaac playing with his dress-up clothing in his box.
Isaac had always loved playing dress-up, and she never knew why.
And there was no clearer example of that love than the drawing.
Isaac had a wig on his head, and was smiling ear to ear.
Smiling…
Smiling despite everything that happened…
The pictures may have been all she had left of her son, but at least she could see him happy.
Happy…
Like in the next photograph…
The one with her and her son alone. Her heart still broke, to know that the third person was absent.
But at least, the remaining two were content.
Content…
Content…
Were they really content?
Clearly not, seeing what Isaac did.
What Isaac did…
She had to see what he did in the drawings…
But upon seeing the next drawing, she froze and her face paled.
She might've never seen the drawing before, but she knew exactly what depicted.
The person in the drawing was none other than she.
And then there was that thing she held.
That thing…
She saw it almost every day, yet now it gave her chills.
Who wouldn't become frightened when a picture depicted someone holding a knife in their hand, poised to stab?
Worst of all yet when that someone was her.
It was her, and then it wasn't.
The person in the drawing glared down with fearsome eyes. The knife looked as though it was shimmering, and that it would pierce objects at any moment.
This person bore no resemblance to the grieving woman whose only use for a knife was cooking in the kitchen.
But clearly they were the same in Isaac's mind.
And that brought on more pain than seeing his bones.
She knew Isaac had seen her cry that day, and she knew she had fought with his father.
She knew Isaac's father walked away a broken man.
So did Isaac blame himself?
Did he fear that she could hurt him? Apparently so, based on the drawing.
But…
But the truth was that she never would.
It was true she had gotten angrier after Isaac's father left. And Isaac had of course seen her angry.
Hence the hard glare in the picture.
But she would never hurt him.
She thought Isaac understood that.
Maybe he did.
But perhaps…
Perhaps there was the fear of being hurt…
Perhaps there was the fear of the knife…
Perhaps Isaac had the fear that he would do something so horrible it would warrant him being killed.
And she wanted so desperately to tell him that there was nothing to fear.
That she would never hurt him, and that he could be happy here.
But she couldn't tell him that now, because it was far too late…
Isaac's next drawings clearly demonstrated that.
She fought the urge to vomit as she forced herself to look.
A shadowy creature menacingly stared back at her. Its red eyes bore into her as it prepared to fly on small black wings.
She shuddered.
She knew that creature well. As well as her own name, she thought.
Because that creature was always on her shows, the root of all evil.
The devil.
But what was even more disturbing than the drawing of the devil was everything surrounding it.
Messages were scrawled in the handwriting of a child.
Handwriting she knew to be Isaac's.
But at the same time, the handwriting wasn't his at all.
This wasn't like the innocent, polished, drawings she was familiar with.
These were crude black and red messages etched across almost the entire wall. Their enormous letters screamed their words so loudly, she thought there was someone standing right there yelling in her face.
The red letters reminded her of blood.
Blood…
Like Isaac's blood…
There was no blood when she found him, but it was clear he'd been suffering for a while…
And no clearer was that suffering than with the messages broadcasting it on the wall.
Because what truly showed the suffering wasn't how they were written, but what was written.
There was the word "me" with a giant black arrow. That arrow pointed to the drawing of the devil, and she shivered at the implication. Scattered on the rest of the wall were the words "I'm bad!" and "I'm the devil!" There were other words too, but they were too crowded together to make out what they were.
None of it could have been good.
She fixed her gaze on the drawing of the pentagram resting in the center of the words.
If he thought he was the devil, then did Isaac imagine he would emerge from one of these?
Certainly, it was possible.
But she couldn't ask him now.
Already, her vision blurred with tears.
This was all her fault.
She thought she'd kept her shows away from Isaac, so he could maintain his innocence.
Yet clearly, her efforts were not enough, and he had picked up something…
And of course, the chaos in the family had done the rest.
She wished she knew how much Isaac was suffering…
Wished she could've told him he wasn't the devil…
Wished she could've told him that the devil was something he would never be…
But she'd waited too long, and now there was nothing to tell.
She was about to walk away when she noticed one last picture.
It was hanging in a corner, furthest away from everything else.
This one pictured the same devil, and he sat on top of a body.
Her own body.
She recoiled, and her tears spilled down her face. She could hardly see anything now.
She had her answer, but she almost wished she didn't.
Poor Isaac… So desperate and afraid that he would hurt someone that he decided to end it all…
She wished she could tell him that he wouldn't kill anyone. She wished she could tell him that she would be safe.
She wished she could help him tell himself.
But she couldn't, because Isaac was long gone.
In his place, there was nothing but bones.
And now all she could do now was grieve.
Because she was the one left behind.
-So I was reading about the characters and this popped in my head. I often wondered what Isaac's mother thought about everything that was happening, so I came up with this.
-I chose to make her more sympathetic because of how I interpreted the game itself. In the true ending, it's revealed that most of the game is Isaac's delusions. However, it's not revealed exactly what is his delusions and what's not. Since the game is ambiguous about how much is real, I started to wonder if the abuse Isaac suffered was also a delusion. It would make sense, because his mother is depicted as someone much more sympathetic in the true ending than in the rest of the game.
-However, it would also make sense for Isaac to fear that he would be hurt or that he would hurt others. Isaac seeing his parents fighting constantly and seeing his father leaving would damage him emotionally. And constantly having to deal with the chaotic family life means that Isaac's judgment probably wouldn't be the best. Therefore, Isaac erroneously jumping to the worst possible conclusion when things started going downhill would not be not unreasonable.
-Isaac's mother constantly being referred to using pronouns has to do with the game never revealing her name. I wasn't sure what name would fit, so I decided to use pronouns.