The poor young boy squirmed as his father's voice boomed even audible through the thick wall of the freezer that held him inside. No amount of clawing at the door with his weak nails would allow it to open; the bolted lock on the outside kept the curly haired young man a prisoner, just as it had done many times before. His eyes had long adjusted to the darkness inside the freezer; the son of the abuser did not know how long he had been consumed in the utter darkness of the cool small space that was in no way designed for a tall teenage boy, or any human of any shape or size. He could not make out the words that were echoing through the basement of his home, but the loud familiar tone along with the scenario he was in suggested that his father's delusions of what Isaac had done wrong were once again being voiced.
If anyone outside the family, anyone other than him and his father could see what was happening they would have instantly recognised it as domestic abuse. Perhaps even Isaac himself would eventually admit that he knew what his father was doing was wrong too, but the abuse that entered his life after an incident Isaac rarely, if ever spoke about had been going on for so long now that the clear line between right and wrong had been blurred for him. He would often lie. "Where did you get that bruise, Isaac?" He heard the memory echo in his own mind. "Lacrosse." His lie was as clear as the question had been. But the words did not fit the memory.
His ocean blue eyes were forced to adjust to the artificial light that streamed through the gap of the freezer as two firm, masculine hands yanked the door upwards, having heard the locks on the outside click to unlock this was not a surprise to Isaac, nevertheless the young man still coward back as far as he could in the small space, yet there was no escape.
The two hands that had seemingly freed him of the torment that was being locked in a small space, something Isaac had grown to fear to great extents. Nevertheless, his heart did not slow in the slightest as the door above him opened fully, allowing his eyes to painfully attempt to focus on the figure of his father that appeared above him. However, before his eyes had much of a chance, the young man felt two strong hands grip his shirt, pulling him upwards and out of the freezer, obvious annoyance on his now visible face just as it had been before he was unwillingly shoved into the small freezer than had barely allowed him to fit nicely in there years ago, when he was not quite as tall. His back collided with the brick wall of the basement as his father's hands freed themselves from his t-shirt.
Gasping for air as he sat up in the bed in what one could describe as terror, Isaac awoke from a dream that seemed so real, one that was more like a memory; it was a memory. His bright blue orbs moved around the familiar room found in Scott's home, his place of residence since Derek had mimicked a gesture Isaac had grown to understand as annoyance and something he needed to obey; throwing glass, or really anything toward him hoping for it to collide with him. Though perhaps Derek had not been after that effect, he had still gotten his point across, Isaac listening to his alpha.
His head fell into his hands, the terror slowly leaving him as he realised that it was just a dream; a nightmare that he'd had many times before now. His eyes however were glassed over with tears, that of which came from the frightened young man in his dream. The young man that had been the younger version of himself. Slowly, the werewolf's breathing calmed to the steady intake of breath he was used to.
Becoming a werewolf may have made him stronger, it may have given him the power he had almost longed for but it didn't take away the memories he wanted to rid himself of. Neither did the events that had killed his father. The darkness of his past still lingered in his thoughts; even now.
