Another day of work.
The spastic screeching of an alarm clock rang through the house, piercing Zack's ears. He swung his arm around, searching for the noisy clock. "Where the fuck are you..?" He groaned, falling to find it.
The noise grew louder, prompting him to sit up. The springs of the pull-out creaked, and Zack surveyed the room for the source of the blaring noise with a disgruntled sigh. Ah—there it is..! He spotted the alarm clock on the side of the couch on the floor.
"Seven Twenty-One", it read.
Isaac leaned over the arm of the sofa, and slammed the alarm clock with a heavy fist. As per usual, the robust killer underestimated his strength, and upon impact with his hand the clock was smashed flat on the ground. He lay there a moment, realizing where he was—and what he was wearing.
He had retreated to Gray's place late last night, after murdering some people that he had stumbled upon while roaming the streets after work. As a result—his uniform was drenched with blood… Gray was right to warn him, to fully get all of the stains out of his uniform would be impossible.
When the killer walked into Gray's house, he had nothing to wear, so he shed off his bloodied uniform and bandages and slept in just his boxers.
Isaac sighed, rolling out of bed. He hoped that the priest wouldn't see him in all of his fucked-up glory.
The sun having not completely risen yet, leaving the room dark. Somewhere among the darkness lay his scythe, which his foot had found with a harsh kick. He swore in pain as he stumbled over his weapon, before picking up the scythe and throwing it onto the pull-out.
"Ah—I see you're awake, now." Gray had abruptly emerged from his bedroom, nearly hitting Zack with the door. "Good morning, Isaac… uh… is there a reason you're lacking clothing..?"
"It's Zack, and for fuck's sake, 'ol man—why ya gotta sneak up on me?!" The young man bashfully threw his arms in front of his body in an attempt to cover his nakedness.
"Well, it is my house…" Gray explained.
"Ugh—whatever. But why ya gotta make me get up at the crack of fuckin' ugly?!" The young man cried, rubbing the bags under his eyes. "This past week has been hell…"
"Well, you need a good amount of time to prepare for work, Isaac… Did you get a bad sleep or something?" Gray asked. Zack nodded his head. "…As expected. But you mustn't blame me for feeling tired—you were the one who as out late last night… killing innocent people, I can presume..?"
Wow. The priest was trying to guilt-trip him… Little did Gray know, monsters don't feel empathy.
Isaac smirked, then stuck his hand against the wall and leant on it. "What else would I be doing on a Friday night?" He queried, his voice etched with pride.
There was no point in lying—Zack liked to kill.
"Isaac, I must say that I do not approve of your actions last night… Remember, you are only supposed to kill those who I deem worthy as sacrifices at the cafe… You're supposed to be lying low now, aren't you?"
"Ugh, I didn't feel like waitin' till ya got some scumbag locked up in there, though!" The killer retorted, walking past the priest into the washroom. Although he had slammed the door, Gray had refused to end their conversation.
"Isaac Foster—you slaughtered an innocent family… Do you feel no remorse?"
Zack stood at the door a moment, reflecting on his actions thoughtfully. Remorse..? He couldn't say he had ever felt remorse. That family… they weren't any more undeserving of death than his other victims were.
"…No. That was almost a week ago, anyways." He answered simply, kicking off his boxer briefs and stepping into the shower.
"'Tis a wretched thing… what you do, Isaac Foster."
Gross. The old man was trying to guilt trip him. Huh, if that ain't a bit of deja vu.
It was unusual for the young man to remember one of his kills, but that family had been annoying him the whole week. They were so… loving. It was weird. Love was something that Isaac had never known, so to him, it was only natural that he'd try to eradicate it.
'Humans fear the unknown.'
"Hah… they sure do.."
The hot water soothed his skin, and Isaac moaned in pleasure. The pulse of the water was strong, releasing a little of the tension in the husky-man's muscles. He stayed in the shower for a while, lathering himself up with a soap that he held a certain fondness for. Zack loved the scent.
It was deep and musky, a similar scent that he had smelled on some of the pretentious weight-lifting assholes he had murdered in an alley nearby a gym downtown.. They may have been narcissistic meat-bags, but even Zack had to admit—they smelled pretty good… Good enough that Isaac strove to smell like them.
Backstreets-Zack had the stench of a dumpster etched into his skin, and the tangy scent of sweat etched into his clothes—not to forget, the unmistakable, metallic smell of blood (not his own, of course).
Domesticated Zack, however, had the musky fragrance of mahogany and teakwood… Refreshing and refined.
Isaac finished his shower a little while later, after scrubbing his scalp with a good-smelling shampoo. He climbed out of the shower, only to be met with one of the most annoying tribulations…
There weren't any fucking towels.
He stood on the small bath mat outside of the tub, feeling the cool air hit his wet, bare skin. It was… the worst feeling that he had ever felt. Despite being slathered with burn scars, Isaac Foster was not the kind of man who liked the feeling of being cold. Nope—he loved feeling warm…
As long as it wasn't Flames-Burning-My-Skin-I-Feel-Like-I'm-Melting warm.
But the longer he mused over the temperature, Isaac longed more for a towel. But… where were the towels..? Even after a week of living at Gray's, Zack was unfamiliar with the house. Specifically, where the linen closet may be located.
It wasn't his fault—he was just used to Gray doing all of that stuff for him… Kind of like a spoiled child. Welp, there was only one option for the cold, shaking man.
"GRAY!" He hollered, climbing back into the shower and hiding behind the curtain. He grew impatient as water began to cool even more, trickling down his body, and Gray had not responded. Zack beckoned him once again. Shortly—to his relief, there was a knock on the door.
"Yes, Isaac?" Gray asked, cracking open the door a little.
"I need a towel—and some bandages," Zack ordered. "Also, an extra uniform… The other one was, uh… it got ruined last night."
Gray huffed disappointedly, before silently leaving to fetch the young man what he had asked for.
Isaac had developed yet another uncharacteristic trait from living with Gray. He had become… rather dependent on the priest. Trusting him and asking him for help often. Zack couldn't remember a time where anyone bent over backwards for him, and he appreciated Gray's hospitality…
Although he would never admit that.
"I'll just leave these outside of the door, Isaac." Gray hollered from outside.
Zack's cheeks grew hot. He knew from witnessing many people's interactions that he should now thank the old man, but he simply couldn't bring himself to thank him.
"I…" he began, mumbling. "I appreciate it."
Gray's footsteps ceased for a moment, probably shocked from Isaac's moment of sincerity. "You're welcome," The priest replied, beginning to walk away again.
Out of frustration, Isaac facepalmed, stepping out of the shower. He shivered a little, the water on his body chilling him. Zack cautiously opened the door, hoping that Gray wasn't anywhere nearby to catch him butt-naked.
Thankfully, he wasn't, and Isaac was able to safely retrieve the bundle that the priest had left out for him. A little smile crept upon his lips as Zack noticed another tube of cream within the bundle. Graciously, he slathered it onto his body. It even smelled good, too. Quite unusual for burn cream.
It took a while for him to finally bandage his upper body and face, and before Zack could begin to wrap his arms, he paused as a thought entered his mind. In his prior days of training, his arms would become drenched due to various tasks involving washing dishes and fishing out clothes out of sanitizer buckets. Isaac supposed that he shouldn't bother bandaging his arms.
Fully bandaged, he stepped into his pants, and was caught off guard when he had to tug a little to get them up past his mid thighs.
"What the fuck?" The young man cursed, struggling once more to yank the pants up all the way. "Don't tell me—my cock's gotten bigger..?" He inspected his crotch, not noticing any difference.
"Ah, fuck. There's to hopin'…" Hey, even serial killers and monsters can dream. "But still, why're my pants so fuckin' tight?" Isaac checked himself out in the mirror, and cringed when he saw how tight they were on his limbs.
There was an obvious bulge revealing the approximate size of his crotch, and the taut fabric left nothing for the imagination in the rear. Zack cursed, feeling himself grow angry. "Creepy fuckin' priest..!"
He hastily threw his arms into the sleeves of the white button-up, noticing how that, too, had become tighter. Isaac could feel his muscles straining under the rigid fabric, and he had begun to get a sense of how uncomfortable his day was about to get.
Isaac leaned against the bus stop sign, keeping his distance from the few tired-looking people lounging about the bench. Their eyes shot beams of intimidation and judgement into Zack's core, and he loathed when people would stare at him with disgust.
But he couldn't kill them right now.
His latest killing sprees had put the whole state in distress. Even hopping cities wasn't putting the pigs off of his trail. Gray said that they had documented all of his recent killings in the newspapers, and were connecting all of the murders that had occurred by Isaac's hand.
So, he really did have to lay low.
Though it was proving to be extremely hard… as Isaac had gone on several killing sprees the past week. He just couldn't help it. Zack would just find himself fiending to kill. Not only was murder a way to get rid of problems, it served as a stress outlet and a way to bring him satisfaction and elation.
Looks like he'll just have to find something else to entertain him.
"Hi, my name's Catherine Ward!" A buxom blond in a tight-fitting maid-like uniform exclaimed, thrusting her hand forward for Isaac to shake. The young man quickly surveyed her form, noting her short blonde hair with pink tips, her curvy build and her smug expression.
Isaac waved her hand away and shuffled uncomfortably over to the counter, his third leg became sensitive from rubbing against the tight jeans, and it began to annoy the fuck out of him.
"U-um…" She stuttered, her wide grin shrinking. Then she looked down at his bulge. "Oh… Oh my god."
Cathy began to snicker, eventually bursting out in laughter. God, her mouth was really fucking wide. Gross. She looked like a fucking horse..!
"Holy shit, I can see the entire outline of your dick." Cathy exclaimed, clutching to her shirt. "Wow, it's—"
"Shut the fuck up ya fuckin' bitch! Stop talkin' bout my junk ya creep!" Isaac snapped, clenching his fists so hard that he figured he probably drew blood. "Fuckin' pants shrunk… and I had nothin' else to wear."
"Oh, isn't that lovely," Cathy murmured, unashamedly gazing down with a small smile on her face. "Ah—anyways, did you tell me your name..?"
"Zack." He growled, picking at the fabric suffocating him.
Fuck Gray, fuck whoever made these small of fucking pants and fuck me for being so damn sensitive..!
Catherine stepped closer to him, smiling. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Zack." She continued to inch closer until she was in close-proximity to Isaac. "You've already made quite the impression, but… I've also heard some things about you from Gray… I must say, it's an honour to finally meet the sinner who's thrown the whole state into fear and chaos..!"
Her face was inches away from Zack's, causing him to feel agitated. And—there was also the fact that she had begun callin' out for being a serial killer immediately after hitting on him… That was pretty awkward.
"Don't fuckin' talk to me! You don't know shit about me." He barked defensively, shoving her backwards. "And it's pretty condescendin' to call me a sinner—when you're probably a fuckin' nutcase too! I mean, why else would you be in this place..?"
"—Working solely for the right to kill."
Cathy staggered back, then scowled at Zack. "How dare you shove a lady?!" She shrieked. "I suppose I shouldn't expect anything more from a sinner like you… but to answer your question, I am not a sinner—I am the condemner. I execute punishments onto sinners who deserve it."
"—After all, it's only natural to punish sinners… is it not?"
Zack shot her a disgusted look. "Fuckin' creepy-ass sadistic pervert-bitch." He muttered, lifting himself up from the counter and walking towards the kitchen.
To his surprise, Gray was standing behind the grill, prepping for breakfast. The grill was a fair size, accompanied by a propane burner with two elements. A plethora of spices resided on shelves above the grill, a flurry of colours. Behind the grill was a counter, three stacks of plates sat an arm's length from the inside of the counter, along with a napkin dispenser.
To the right of the grill were two deep fryers, shiny and new.
"How the fuck did you get over here..?!" Isaac cried, approaching Gray.
"Ah—Isaac!" He exclaimed, turning his attention to the serial killer. "I drove here a while after you departed for the bus stop."
"Huh?! How come ya didn't give me a ride then?"
"You must first learn responsibility before you earn that right, Isaac…" Gray decreed. "Now go with Cathy—you must help her get ready for our Grand Opening!"
"This is bullshit..! Fuckin' prick…" Zack muttered, hesitating a bit before stomping over to the buxom waitress.
'Earn the responsibility'—my ass..!
Cathy, who was setting silverware out in a plastic tray on the coffee island, sharply turned her head towards Zack when she heard him approaching.
"Oh—so you come back?" Cathy laughed shrilly, leaving the coffee island and walking over behind the counter.
Zack shot Cathy a look of disgust. She was exactly the type of person that he didn't like…
"Only 'cause I gotta." Zack barked.
"Here, let me review some of the things you need to know for opening."
"No need," Isaac stopped her, "Danny Dickhead and Gray taught me everythin' I gotta know."
And what a fuckin' week that was. Those days were long, and usually set Isaac in a bad mood. Being told what to do was one of his pet peeves—and also something that occurred regularly in jobs. But… Isaac took the barking orders differently than most.
A tool… Yeah, that was a good word to describe how he felt. Like a tool… As if he was still a child, obeying orders like some mutt. He became a monster so that he wouldn't have to be a tool anymore, but… In the end, monster or not, it seemed that Isaac Foster could not escape his destiny as a tool.
"Great! So… we're opening in about ten minutes, so be a doll and wipe down all of the tables before then." Cathy ordered.
Another order. Another shove closer to the edge of insanity. Zack had broken once before—and many times after that… and it seemed like he would break again soon.
"Eh..?! Don't fuckin' order me around!" Isaac howled.
Cathy sighed, and before she could open her mouth to justify her commands, Gray peeked out from the kitchen, shooting Isaac a reprimanding glare.
"Isaac, Catherine is your supervisor. You must do what she says." He commanded shortly, with a pleading look on his face that basically said, "Please don't kill Cathy…!"
Zack's brows furrowed, and he sighed. "Fine..!" He sunk his hands into a sanitizer bucket that sat on the counter, fishing for a cloth. Grasping onto one, he lifted it out of the water and wrung it out. Pensively, he strode over to the tables and began wiping them all.
His arms scrubbed the tables quite aggressively, so that he nearly knocked one over. He hated himself… He hated being a tool
They were all wooden, but quite light-looking. Daniel had told the trainee that there was around seventy to eighty tables, and each table had two chairs to it. It seemed like Gray was expecting a lot of business.
"Hey, you have to wipe under those shakers, Zack." Cathy scolded him from behind the counter.
Isaac bit his tongue to avoid lashing out at the woman barking at him, and begun to lift the salt and pepper shakers up before wiping the tables.
Like a good little tool…
There were only around thirty tables, so the killer-turned-server had finished within just a few minutes. He went back to Cathy, who was looking over a menu.
"Oh, done already? Good." She smiled. "Gray has just informed me of your illiteracy… so, how do you plan to take people's orders..?"
Bashfully, Zack scratched the back of his neck. "The 'ol man taught me how to read numbers this week… and there's a number to each order, so I can take orders." His mind flashed back to his lessons with Gray, when they sat at the dining table at his house and reviewed with flash cards. It felt weird… something that a grown-adult wouldn't have to do.
But when was Zack ever normal..?
Unexpectedly, the door thrust open, and Zack could hear a chime ring, signalling someone's entrance. Cathy jumped a little, before putting a huge grin on her face.
"We've got our very first customer..!" She squealed, turning to Zack—who's golden eye began to twitch.
"Shut the fuck up." He snarled, visibly annoyed at her exuberance.
It was a couple that walked in—man and woman, and they approached the counter with euphoric smirks.
"Hello!" Cathy greeted them, beaming. "Welcome to the aNGels of death cafe! Table for two..?"
"Yes, please." The man said, wrapping an arm around his partner. Zack nearly gagged. They looked at each other with an emotion that the killer loathed—love. Of all love's forms, Isaac Foster despised romance more than any other.
How could people just set themselves up to be used and abused like that..? Love wasn't real—people just wanted tools for themselves. Tools to fuck then throw away… tools to discard like trash.
"Alright! Here, let my friend Zack here show you two to a table!" Cathy said, handing Zack a menu and table number.
He hesitated a moment, looking between Catherine and the couple. "A-alright… c'mon."
I wonder which one of you dumbfucks is gettin' used here..?
He awkwardly shuffled to a table for two, before sloppily tossing the menu and table number on the table. "There ya go, sit." He commanded gruffly. The couple shot him an unsure glance, before sitting down. Isaac stood there, watching them peer through the menu with a hand on his hip.
The couple nervously glanced at him when he showed no sign of leaving, before the man spoke up.
"U-um, there anything wrong..?" He croaked.
"No," Isaac replied plainly.
"It's just, ah… You're just standing there…" The woman spoke up, voice meek.
"I'm waitin' for ya to decide on what ya want!" Zack barked. "If ya don't want me houndin' over ya, then hurry the fuck up!"
A hand abruptly grasped onto his shoulder, causing him to jolt. "Zack, let's give these people space to order, okay…?" Cathy urged, pulling him away from the couple. "I am so sorry for his behaviour—he has issues." She turned to them and grinned apologetically.
Zack learned that Cathy had quite the strength hidden in her skinny arms, as she managed to haul him away to the dish pit effortlessly.
"What are you doing..?! You're going to scare the customers!" Cathy screeched, eyes twitching.
"I was jus' waitin' for them to decide on what the fuck they wanted!" Zack replied back, screaming louder than Catherine.
"It's not normal to just stand in front of them like that! You have to leave them for a few moments to let them decide on what they want!" Cathy explained.
Isaac didn't like to be told that he wasn't normal, but since he had been told so all of his life, it was just something that he was used to.
"Fine." He replied shortly.
The rest of breakfast went surprisingly smoothly, as it was not too busy, it being their first day and all. Although, Zack did break a few—or eight plates… as well as smashing three mugs. But hey—that's just dishwashing. Shit gets slippery.
The young man despised cleaning up after others, though. It toke a lot of persuasion on Gray's side to finally convince him to do his job… But that didn't stop him from complaining.
Isaac Foster was many thing… but a fuckin' servant wasn't one of them. So when he had to assume his role of cleaning up people's dirty tables, he was pissed. It was actually eye-opening to witness how piggish people could be…
And how piggish he was—given that he could relate to the messes that his customers left.
He'd have to pry wet napkins out of peoples cold coffee mugs, scrape off napkins that had become stuck to plates, and go fishing in someone's plate filled with leftover scraps and napkins for their sticky silverware… and actually a lot more.
The feeling was disgusting—that sticky feeling. Unlike blood, it was smellier and stickier.
Only four customers had walked out that morning (because of something Isaac did, whether it be cursing or intimidation), so all in all, it was a good first day.
Or, that was what Gray had said to Isaac after his shift.
The past week had been great for Rachel, perhaps the best week of her entire, miserable life.
Now that she had the perfect parents and the perfect puppy, her life had become perfect too. Her mother and father had not argued for a whole seven days, and they hadn't beaten Rachel, either. She had no bruises to cover up anymore.
Even so, there was one problem… Her parents—and puppy had begun to stink. Really bad.
Dead bodies had a tendency to rot, which was one of the downfalls of having dead parents. However, Rachel wouldn't have it any other way.
She knew fully well that her parents were dead, but they were better that way… Better dead than they were alive. They definitely couldn't scream or hurt each other any more, so that was great.
Rachel sat on the floor between their feet. She began to read an old favourite book of hers, finally content.
But then there was a knock on the door.
The young girl froze. It was the fourth time this week that they received a knock on the door, and each time Rachel wouldn't answer. She didn't want to be bothered by strangers, and figured that her parents wouldn't either. Perhaps if she didn't answer they would go away.
She held her breath, doing her best to stay absolutely silent. If they didn't hear any noise, then maybe they would believe that no one was home.
"Shh," she quietly hushed her puppy, who lay still in his box on the floor. "Don't bark—we must stay quiet…"
The puppy continued to stay silent… proving himself to be Mankind and Rachel's most loyal companion.
There were a few more raps on the door, noticeably louder than the first set. "Hey, answer the door..! We know that you're in there." The stranger called out from the other side.
More knocks. They had begun to bang on the door so loud that it shook the walls of the house. Rachel hoped they hadn't scared her puppy. "We're gonna knock the fuckin' door down if you don't open up, man." Another stranger bellowed. "You haven't showed up to work in a week..! What the fuck's up, man?!"
Uh oh.
The strangers at the door were policemen… and it was likely that they wouldn't take to her parent's new form… They wouldn't… understand.
The girl quickly stood from the ground, thinking of what to do. She couldn't let them take her parents away..! But, what could she even do to prevent that from happening..?
"One… Two… Three—" The policemen had begun to count, and Rachel knew she had to act fast.
"My dear, perfect parents… They're going to take you away from me." She spoke to them, gingerly pecking their bluish-tinted foreheads. "I love you… I've had the best week of my life."
She pet her puppy that lay in it's box. "I love you too… You're the perfect puppy… My perfect puppy."
The crying girl stood up again, and toke one last glance at her parents. "Goodbye, my perfect parents… My perfect family…"
The door cracked open, and the men stomped about with their heavy boots.
"Ugh, what's that fucking smell?!" The officers exclaimed disgustedly. "Ah—Rachel?!"
She looked at the officers, then at her parents.
"What the fuck..!?" Another cop with raven hair exclaimed, staring at her family in disgust.
"What in the world happened here!?" The cop asked Rachel, face distorted with fear. "Jesus fuckin' Christ..! Call a fuckin' ambulance… God…"
Rachel began to feel her eyes become hot, tears threatened to spill over her eyelids. For the first time in a while, she let them.
"My parents…" She cried, grasping the fabric of her shirt overtop her heart.
"Rachel, are you alright?" The officer asked, face filled with worry. Rachel widened her eyes, finally somewhat adjusted to the light. His face was… familiar to her.
"My family…" She lamented, shutting her eyes tight.
"God, this is fucked…" He muttered. "Why didn't you call the police earlier, Rachel?"
Rachel ignored his question and continued to cry.
"They're… they're all stitched together… What the…" A young cop exclaimed. "H-his arm..! It's been replaced with a fucking stuffed animal's!"
"I'm gonna fucking vomit..!"
"Their eyes—they're made of glass..?!"
The police continued to project their discoveries of Rachel's parents augmentations. The young girl behind their fixing up Rachel didn't understand—she thought her parents were perfect, so why were they insulting them..? Ice began to freeze over her young heart, and her eyes had begun to lose their shine once again.
Soon enough, ambulance sirens rang through the streets, piercing Rachel's ears as she was whisked inside one.
Three weeks had passed since Rachel's perfect family was taken from her. After staying in the hospital for a few days for treatment (apparently she was malnourished), the officer—whose name was lieutenant Hoff—had told her 'Good News..!'
She would be taken to an orphanage where she would live the rest of her childhood in. Upon inspecting the adoption papers, Rachel discovered that it was an orphanage for troubled children.
Rachel had come to the conclusion that there really was something wrong with her.
"Mental Facility or "Looney Bin" was a more accurate name than "Orphanage". The building's walls were all a gleaming white, as well as the hard tiles that made up the flooring. The residents of the Orphanage appeared to be Zombies, mindlessly walking around with blank stares.
But Rachel supposed she wasn't actually that different from them.
Her room was extremely simple. It had just enough room for a single bed, fitted with pure white sheets and a white, cotton duvet, a white-painted plywood dresser that held an assortment of basic clothing, and an end table beside the bed.
Like the main rooms of the building, her room's walls were white, and the flooring consisted of cold, white tiles. Luckily, Rachel's room had come with a pair of white slippers, so that her feet would not get cold touching the tile flooring.
There was a window facing opposite of her bed, secured with iron bars. Rachel felt dreary looking out of it.
Two and a half weeks had finally passed by since she had arrived at the orphanage, and at long last, it was time for her to meet with a psychiatrist. There was a lot of children residing in the building, so Rachel could understand why it toke so long.
Tentatively, she shuffled along the floor in her pure white slippers, the walls throwing back the scuffing sound at Rachel and the lady who guided her to the psychiatrist's office.
"Dear Rachel, could you please refrain from scuffing your slippers on the floor? It's awfully noisy." The woman asked politely, turning her head back to look at Rachel.
The young girl didn't reply, but she began to pick up her feet as she walked.
"Ah, here we are—Doctor Dicken's office." The woman announced, opening the door for Rachel. She paused a moment before entering, gazing at the interior of the office.
"I'll just leave you to wait here," the lady said, softly shutting the door.
Rachel sat down on a comfortable leather chair, swinging her feet impatiently. She began to count in her head to pass the time.
One, Two, Thee, Four… Seventy, Seventy-One, Seventy-Two—
Her counting was interrupted as the door swung open. Rachel turned her head back to see who had entered.
It was an average-sized man wearing a lab-coat. His hair was an olive-brown colour, and he wore glasses over his mis-match coloured eyes. His smile stretched into a wide grin, and he knelt down beside Rachel and extended a hand for her to shake.
"Why hello there, I'm Doctor Daniel Dickens! But you can call me Danny." He introduced himself, gazing deeply into her eyes. "What's your name?"
"Rachel… Gardner," The young girl replied, weakly shaking his hand. His hand was much larger than hers, thus enveloping it in his. He had a firm grip, but it was not painful… it was somehow gentle.
"Rachel… A truly beautiful name." Danny smiled. "A beautiful name to match such a beautiful girl… with such gorgeous peepers…"
The doctor cleared his throat and stood up, making his way to his seat before sitting down.
"So, Rachel, how have you liked your stay here so far?" He asked, clasping his hands together on his desk. "Sorry it's taken this long for an appointment—I'm only here about three days a week and there are a lot of patients here."
She stared blankly at the doctor, refusing to answer. There was no point. His smile deepened, and he tilted his head farther forward, casting a shadow over his face.
"Rachel, why don't you answer me..? Are you angry?" He asked in a soft, kind voice.
His question was once again answered with silence. Daniel hummed to himself and jotted something down in a leather-bound notebook that he pulled out of his pocket, shoulders slightly quivering. He shoved it back into his pocket, and opened the spiral-bound notebook on his desk and jotted some words down on there before looking back up at Rachel.
"What could I do to get you to answer me, Rachel..? I'd like to know how you're feeling here." Danny asked, leaning towards her.
Rachel merely stared at him, before opening her mouth. "I'm sad."
"Sad?" Daniel repeated, voice warm and sympathetic. "Why are you sad, Rachel?"
"My family… They're all gone." She muttered, eyes hollow.
"Oh, Rachel… Did you see them die..?" Daniel asked. His forwardness surprised Rachel somewhat, yet she answered regardless.
"Yes," she replied.
Daniel sighed. Not necessarily an annoyed sigh, but more so a sigh of admiration.
"I see," He murmured, "I suppose you're just not in the mood to talk right now, Rachel…Are you tired..? I guess I'll just cut this session short so you can get some rest."
He rose from his chair and walked towards the door, gingerly pulling it open. Rachel sat up from her seat, too, and shuffled out of the door. Danny followed, walking beside her.
"I'll escort you to your room, Rachel." He offered.
They walked in silence, save for the few comments Daniel made about this or that. Thankfully, it didn't take long for them to reach her room. The doctor pulled open the door, and bid Rachel Goodnight before closing it.
"I could have gazed into your beautiful peepers all day, Rachel… But I have some preparations to make as of right now…" Daniel whispered under his breath, hastily heading back to his office.
Rachel continued to stay silent during her weekly sessions with Danny, and each time, he would ask more complex questions.
"Rachel, what happened the night of your parent's murder..?"
"Do you like to sew, Rachel? We've found a lot of your stuffed animals in your room—each stuffy is an amalgamation of other stuffed animal's legs and arms… Did you take them apart and sew them back together?"
"Did you love your parents, Rachel?"
"Did you kill your parents, Rachel..?"
Rachel shuffled into Daniel's office for her weekly appointment. During their session, Danny revealed some good news to the young girl.
"Rachel, the Orphanage will be welcoming a little puppy for the patients to play with! Isn't that lovely..?" Daniel exclaimed. Rachel's eyes lit up. "Ah—do you like dogs, Rachel? Your peepers lit up when I mentioned that we were getting one..! Oh, I forgot—you had a dog, didn't you?"
"Yes, I love animals… and yes, I had a puppy. I found him in a back alley near home…" Rachel said, smiling slightly.
"Hey, the new puppy should be here now, actually… would you like to come see him with me?" Daniel asked, slowly rising from his chair. Rachel stood up too, following the doctor out of the door. The walked to the courtyard, and there was more patients than usually stuffed in there.
"Hm, where is he..? Ah—over there..!" Daniel exclaimed, pointing towards an older woman holding a sleepy puppy in her arms. Rachel darted over to the puppy, leaving Danny behind her.
He reminded Rachel of her puppy.
Tentatively, the dead-eyed girl approached the woman and puppy, shoving past the other patients who gathered to look at the puppy.
"Oh, hello Rachel," The woman greeted her, stroking the puppy's ears. A young boy extended his arms to scratch the puppy's back. "Would you like to pet the puppy?"
Rachel nodded, slowly bringing her hand to the puppy's nose to sniff. It's eyes were half shut before, but reopened when it sensed Rachel's hand. He gave it a sniff, and stuck out his pink tongue to lick it.
"Wet," Rachel mused, smiling at the puppy. "He's so cute… What's his name?"
"Well, we haven't given him a name yet… Would you like to help, Rachel?" The old lady asked her, smiling Kindly.
"Sure," Rachel accepted her offer, humming to herself as she thought of a name. "How about… Roofus?"
The old woman grinned. "Roofus..? Sounds like a wonderful name!" She exclaimed.
"Can… Can I hold Roofus?" Rachel asked, mesmerized by Roofus.
"Sure," the lady passed the puppy to Rachel, who gingerly took him in her arms. She admired the puppy, holding him up to her face. Roofus's tail began to wag, and he gave Rachel a few sloppy kisses.
"Oh, Roofus, you're so cute… You're just like… my perfect puppy." She mused, holding the dog against her chest. "You're so cute I could just eat you up..!"
"I'm glad to see that you like the puppy, Rachel." Danny whispered in her ear, his hot breath sending tingles in her ears and spine. Rachel jumped a little, before looking behind her at the doctor. "Ah—sorry, did I startle you…? You're so mesmerized by that puppy… It's as if he's the only thing in your world."
"His name is Roofus," Rachel corrected the doctor. "He's the perfect puppy…"
"Rachel, it's now Jeffrey's turn to hold Roofus," The old woman told her, holding her arms out to receive Roofus. Rachel took a step back, tightening her grip on the puppy.
"But… I don't want to share him, I want him to be mine, my perfect puppy…" Rachel cried.
"Rachel, give Roofus to me. He's not your puppy, he's everyone's puppy. You'll get to play with him later, too." The old lady said, slipping her hands around the puppy.
Roofus and Rachel began to whine, causing the old woman to chuckle. "See—he likes you. Just let these other kids visit with him and then he'll probably come looking for you." She reassured the young girl.
Reluctantly, Rachel let the woman take Roofus. "Okay,"
Doctor Daniel rested his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. "It's she said, Rachel, the puppy—Roofus, will most likely come to see you when he's done visiting with everyone. After all, you are the most special girl out of all of them.."
"Really..?" Rachel asked, looking up at Danny curiously.
The Doctor hummed, and gave her a warm grin. "Yes… you see, you have the most gorgeous peepers I've ever seen… That makes you very special."
Over the past two weeks, Rachel spent all of her free time playing with Roofus. He was usually outside in the courtyard, and Rachel snuggled with him, played catch and tug-of-war with him. Sometimes, Rachel would sit on a bench with Roofus curled up beside her as she stitched. The staff at the Orphanage would always comment on how much Rachel loved Roofus and how much Roofus adored Rachel back, always causing the young girl to smile.
Roofus made her feel… Happy. Rachel had felt so depressed after her family was taken away from her, but having Roofus was like having her puppy back, which at least helped her feel a little better.
But, there came a problem.
Another girl, a tall, lanky redhead had taken a likeliness to Roofus. Well, to be fair, many did. But this girl was different.
Roofus liked her back.
Usually the puppy ignored all of the other patients in favour of Rachel, but he had taken a liking to this girl. But Rachel was determined to make Roofus hers and hers alone… She wanted to call him her own.
She hastily shuffled over to the courtyard to visit Roofus after breakfast, and her heart began to pound angrily when she saw her there.
The lanky redhead was searching for Roofus as well, and upon spotting him, they both called him over at the same time. Roofus's ears perked up, and he jumped around to face the both of them. He hesitated a moment, but began running towards them.
"Come here!" Rachel beckoned along with the redhead. Rachel thought that Roofus would come to her, but he instead went to the redhead.
Rachel pouted before storming off from the courtyard, heart pounding from betrayal and frusteration.
Her puppy had betrayed her… It seems like things really never work out for her…
She stomped to her room, pacing around, huffing with anger.
He should be mine… How could he… Betray me..? I guess he's not really my puppy after all…
"I guess…." Rachel murmured to herself, staring out of the barred window. "I'll have to make him mine."
The girl's eyes clouded over with red, and she walked over to her dresser to pull out her sewing kit from the top drawer. Danny had entrusted her with her old sewing kit after she had expressed her love for sewing. And in it… should be…
Ah—the scissors. Perfect.
Rachel walked back over to the courtyard, hiding the scissors in the waistbands of her black shorts. It seemed like Roofus was still playing with the redhead… But that wouldn't be a problem, Rachel supposed.
The young blonde stepped over to the where the red headed girl and her puppy were playing, and beckoned to Roofus. He excitedly ran over to her, and began to lick her fingers. Rachel scooped him up in her arms, stealing him away from the lanky girl.
"Hey—where are you taking Roofus..?" She asked, standing up. Rachel ignored her and quickened her pace towards her room.
Stepping inside, she could feel Roofus squirm in her arms as she removed one hand that was supporting him and she shut and locked the door. Rachel let the puppy go on the floor, and grasped for her scissors.
"I'm so tired of sharing you with others, Roofus… I have to make you mine." She explained, kneeling down and petting the pup.
"Don't worry, I'll make you even more perfect than you are already, Roofus," She promised, pushing him over onto his back and forcefully pinning the dog down. He began to whine and struggle, but before he could escape, Rachel raised her arm and thrust her scissors into Roofus's belly.
As the metal punctured his stomach Roofus let out a particularly loud yelp, and blood began to gush out of the gash. Rachel pulled the scissors out, then thrust them back in several times, waiting for his yelping to subside.
Roofus was finally rendered silent, and his vital fluids were spilling out, staining the pure-white tile floor, as well as Rachel's white cardigan. She threw the scissors on the ground, surveying her puppy.
"There, now I can make you mine," Rachel declared, reaching for her sewing kit along the floor. "My perfect puppy…"
"How about we have a more… in-depth talk for our session today, Rachel..?" Danny asked, smiling calmly at her.
Rachel didn't answer. She sat with her eyes sealed shut, moping over Roofus. Like her family, they had taken Roofus away from her after she fixed him, causing the girl to recline into another depression.
"Don't look so upset—there's no reason to feel afraid… I won't ever be mad at you, Rachel." Daniel promised, leaning in towards her. "Hm… I've got an idea, how about I tell you a little about myself for a change..? Perhaps then you'll feel like opening up..?"
Rachel's eyes slowly opened, and she looked at the Doctor. "Aha! You looked at me!" He exclaimed. "It's been a while, you seemed to have closed up after the incident… Don't worry—we won't talk about that until you're ready."
Danny continued to admire her eyes for a moment longer, a look of ecstasy on his face. "Ah, Rachel…. You're peepers are so beautiful…"
Rachel silently stared at Daniel, her visage lacking emotion. The doctor simply span around in his chair, scanning the room as if he would find a conversation lurking in a corner. He sighed, fumbling with a pen that lay on his desk.
"Well… Where should I start..? Oh—one of my eyes is made of glass," Daniel began, shifting his eyes upward as if searching for something to talk about. "You see, I was born without an eye. My mother worried herself sick about it all of my childhood… She had such worrisome, dark peepers…They were such tranquil peepers… Yet, as a child, my reflection was never cast in her eyes for too long."
Daniel's face toke on soft look as he relived his childhood. "Even so, I still loved my mother—her peepers were so precious… Rachel, did you hate your parents..?"
Rachel slowly blinked, mulling over the question. "…No."
They may have been the worst parents out there, but to Rachel, they were normal. They say ignorance is bliss… and perhaps the young girl's ignorance of what a normal, acceptable family was helped her to persevere. Yet, her ignorance had also been her bane…
"Then why…" Daniel began once again leaning towards Rachel. "Why did you cut and sew them up..?"
It's not as if he hadn't asked that question before, but it still caused Rachel's heart to stir with a tinge of doubt. That's not normal… the voice inside her head rung. Rachel's bane… she was just simply…
Fucked up.
"Because…" Rachel began, closing her eyes once again. Daniel shifted in his seat, seemingly excited to hear her answer.
"—I wanted a family." She answered simply, smiling,
A family… like the ones she would often dream about. Her mother and father would love each other—they would be each other's soulmates. Mom wouldn't be miserable anymore, Dad wouldn't go out and drink his sorrows away, filling the empty holes of his heart with booze and whores.
Rachel—she'd be their perfect daughter. She would have friends, she would smile, and most importantly… she would be loved by her parents… Desired.
"I see… How did you come to feel this way..?" Daniel asked, slowly reaching for his notebook.
"How..?" She asked, brows furrowing slightly. "That's… a good question."
"Hey—didn't you come across your puppy in an alleyway near you house..?" Daniel recalled.
Rachel paused a moment, reflecting on that day… The day when everything changed. On one end, she had finally received a family… But, that night… She had lost herself to psychosis.
And she wasn't entirely against what she had done.
The leather chair squeaked as Rachel shifted about, mulling over the events of that night—trying desperately to reassemble the jumbled thoughts in her mind. For some reason unknown to her, she had unconsciously blocked out the memory from her brain. However, whenever she had thought hard enough, the pieces began to fit together… Her story completing.
"Oh, yes… He was so tiny and cute… But, so terribly fragile. I wanted to keep him so bad, but I'd have just gotten in trouble if I took him home without asking my parents… So I left him there to ask." Rachel explained. "But when I walked inside, they were fighting… and neither of them would listen to me… So I left again to visit the puppy."
Rachel began to frown, clasping her hands together at her lap. Now was when the bad memories started to plague her.
"But when I arrived, he was very weak—likely to keel over at any moment. I reached my hand out to pet him, but then… It bit me." She recollected. "Then… what happened next—it's a little… hazy.. As if I had fallen asleep. When I came to, I was in my room fixing the puppy. But then… Dad came in and saw… Gosh… they were fighting so loud."
"What were they fighting about, Rachel..?" Daniel asked, hastily jotting some notes down.
"About… me." She answered, telling Danny of how they thought that Rachel wasn't normal. "I could hear them screaming from my room upstairs—they were in the kitchen. Glass or ceramic was shattering, and there was a lot of banging… then, my mother screamed—louder than she ever had before."
Rachel's brows aggressively furrowed, creating small lines between them. "I was… so worried. So I went down to the kitchen to check what had happened… As I stood at the door, I could feel something was… wrong… And I vividly remember what I saw past that door…" Rachel revealed with a shudder.
"Dad was overtop of Mom… stabbing her over and over and over… I still remember the sound of the knife piercing her flesh—the ooze of her blood… But then, Dad started to come after me—saying that I needed to die, too… I ran away from him, heading towards my room…"
"Why didn't you run out the front door, Rachel..?" Danny inquired.
"My puppy… I had to see if my puppy was okay." She murmured. "But then, before I went up the stairs… I recalled that mom had hidden a gun in the drawer before them. So, I… I toke it with me. After I had ran into my room and checked on the puppy, Dad burst through the door."
Rachel was silent for a moment, then Daniel prompted her to continue. But… was it really okay for her to tell him..?
"Then I shot him."
Four shots to the chest. Bang. Bang. Bang—Bang..! The gun in her hand… it gave her this magnificent power… Once she had succumbed to the veil of red, there was no way that she could have restrained herself. One shot was not enough.
One shot was not enough to purge her father of his Impurity.
"But then, why did you sew them up…?" Daniel asked, shooting her a curious glance.
Has she ever asked herself the same thing..? Sewing them just came naturally—as if that was the only thing she could have done.
How else would she make her Perfect Family..?
"Well… Because I had to make them perfect… My perfect parents. It felt good to fix that puppy—to make him mine, so I figured… I could do the same to my parents." Rachel justified. "Afterwards, I fixed their wounds so that they wouldn't be hurt anymore… Then I gave mom a smile, so that she would finally be happy. A while later, I sewed Mom and Dad to each other—so that they would get along. Finally, I replaced Dad's bad arm with a stuffy's, then substituted their yucky eyes with nicer ones. Then… they had become my perfect Mom and Dad…"
"All three of us played all day long with our puppy—It was wonderful." Rachel exclaimed, recalling that blissful week. But then, her eyes suddenly darkened.
"But then… the police took them away from me—I was so sad…"
"I… I understand, Rachel. I see where you're coming from…" Daniel reassured her. "Rachel… you killed Roofus as well, right.?"
"…Yes."
"Why did you want to do that..? I thought you adored that pup?"
Oh, she did… he was perfect even when he was alive. But… there was just one problem…
"That's right… I really loved him." Rachel admitted. "But… It wasn't meant to be…"
Daniel shifted in his chair, causing it to squeak a little. "Wasn't meant to be, huh?" He asked, a look of empathy on his face.
"Yeah, there was something that I wanted… I wanted something to call my own. But, for some reason… things never play out like they should." She lamented.
Roofus was not hers.
"…Never play out like they should, huh…" Daniel repeated, looking as if he had resonated with Rachel.
The young girl nodded her head, solemnly staring at the ground.
"So… You'd like something to call your own, Rachel..? Daniel murmured dreamily. Rachel raised her eyes to meet his, looking questionably at the doctor.
Daniel stood up, moving around his desk towards Rachel. Kneeling on the ground beside her, he placed his hand on her shoulder, giving her a sweet grin.
"Rachel, my mother took her own life… what killed her—was my eye. Your peepers… they remind me so much of my mothers when she was hanging from the ceiling…" He whispered into her ear, his hot breath once again sending chills down her spine.
So… the doctor brought misery down upon others, too…
"Dark… Tranquill… And most of all—beautiful…" he reminisced, gripping her shoulder tighter. "Rachel, I… I'm in love with your peepers… I hope their dark glow sparkles for eternity…"
"That steadfast glow—it will grant you all of your wishes in this world…" Daniel stroked her cheek with his free hand, nearly grazing her eyes. "Oh, Rachel… Let me live beside those peepers for all eternity..!"
Daniel sat on the edge of his plush, leather chair. On his recently emptied desk, there sat two stacks of papers—one was his letter of resignation. The other, his—well, Rachel's adoption papers.
The doctor fumbled with his favourite ball-point pen in his impatient right hand. Oh, he wished that he could hand in his letter of resignation… However, for his and Rachel's sake, he had to continue.
Oh well… As long as he was able to stare into her eyes for just a little while, he would be okay. Just basking in her presence for just a little while was sufficient enough to push away the loneliness and emptiness that he felt.
The police had come to him to ask of the girl's recollections, and if… If she was the one who did it. Wow, Daniel sure had to work hard to ensure Rachel's innocence.
It was natural assume Rachel's guilt—and it was correct… well, partially correct. Rachel had shot her father… However, that was in self-defence. However… Persuading the police to disregard Rachel's sewing up her parents was tricky…
Thankfully, the young girl had told Daniel of her parent's mistreatment and abuse—that made it way easier to persuade the pigs.
Humans were quite susceptible to feelings of pity… When Daniel had recounted Rachel's horrible upbringing, they had felt a spot of… pity for her. Instead of charging her with any charges, like not calling the police, and tampering with their bodies, they had simply excused them—declaring that those acts were under the influence of psychosis.
Now, Rachel Gardner's sentence was therapy sessions and taking drugs to attempt to cure her.
Now, this was where the problem arose. Daniel wanted to quit his job. There was no need to counsel all of the dead-eyed patients anymore, as he had found the eyes he'd been searching for his whole life… Rachel Gardener's.
But he had to keep the job. The young girl was required to go to therapy, and if Daniel wasn't her therapist, things could go wrong.
So, he decided to keep his job… for Rachel's sake. To ensure that no one would take his reason to live away from him. But that caused another problem.
If Daniel were to adopt Rachel under his own name, then he would not be able to be her counsellor… Once again sticking a fork in his plan. However—and luckily for him, Danny knew someone who would comply with his plan… someone who would adopt Rachel under his name and simply give her to the doctor.
That man was Reverend Abraham Gray.
It took a little persuasion, but the Reverend complied. His adoption papers now sat in Daniel's hands, where he would forward them to Social Services.
Every problem had a solution, and Daniel Dickens had found the best possible solution…
Rachel stood in the lobby of Social Services with an old suitcase at her feet, escorted by a Social Worker. Her adopter had just came in, and shook the hands with the Worker.
"This will be your new guardian, Rachel!" The social worker exclaimed, bending over to reach Rachel's eyes. "He is the most respected man in town—Reverend Abraham Gray!"
She already knew that. Doctor Daniel had already told her the plan. She was to be adopted by the Reverend but she would live with Danny. That way, he could still be her psychiatrist… but she "musn't tell anyone—It's a super-important secret…"
"Hello, Rachel Gardener," the Reverend greeted, bending down to shake her small hand.
He was an awfully tall man—imposing… His eyes were blank. Rachel could not find his iris or pupil… Was he blind..?
"I am Reverend Abraham Gray—oh, but you already knew that…" He spoke with a soft voice in juxtaposition to his intimidation appearance. "It is a pleasure to be adopting you."
Rachel was silent for a moment, and the Reverend gave her hand a gentle squeeze—as if to reassure her. "It is a pleasure to meet you, sir, and thank you… for adopting me."
"Well, shall we go to your new home..?" The Social Worker suggested excitedly, clasping her fat hands together.
Rachel hopped into the Social Worker's car, small suitcase beside her, while Gray took his own—standard procedure to ensure her safety, she supposed. It was a long drive, and Rachel leaned her head against the glass, peering out at the street.
It had been awhile since she had walked out into the street as a normal person… she wondered if she would ever do that again..?
Daniel had reassured her countless times that her guilt had been casted aside—that she could live life as a normal girl…
As long as she would never leave his side.
The car came to a slow stop, and Rachel lifted her head from the window, shaking it as if it would clear her mind from thought.
"We're finally home, Rachel..!" The woman exclaimed, turning her head to look back at Rachel.
Home… But this wasn't her home—that was supposed to be with Doctor Danny. Yet… Rachel didn't believe that that would feel like home, either.
To the young girl, 'home' meant 'family'… And hers was taken away long ago… Or so it seemed. How long had passed since then, anyways..? Rachel had lost track of time in that Orphanage… But it was currently spring now.
Had a whole year passed since then..?
Rachel's door opened abruptly, slightly startling her. "Come out now, darling… It's time to see your new home..!" The Social worker exclaimed.
Rachel climbed out of the car, waiting for the woman to lead her into the house.
It was modest, as a man of the cloth's home should be. Like most others, Gray lived in a simple home in a simple neighbourhood, turning away the temptation of a luxurious house on the hills.
The Social Worker rapped on the door, before opening it.
"Welcome," Gray greeted from the other side. "Please come in."
Tentatively, Rachel stepped into the house, surveying her surroundings. Like the exterior, the interior was simple. They had walked into the living room, a rather small but open space with a couch, a bookshelf, and an old television.
The dining room was simply an open extension to the living room, consisting of a medium-sized wooden table holding four seats. An archway lead to the kitchen—which was quite small.
"And where should our Rachel be staying..?" The woman asked, placing a gentle hand on Rachel's shoulder.
"Ah, here—this way." Gray said, leading them to a bedroom down the hall from the living room. They opened the door to find a small room containing a single bed, a bedside table, and a closet. The Social Worker nodded approvingly at the room, and went to open the closet.
"A-ah, there's things already in here.." She exclaimed.
Rachel peered inside, finding a rather large guitar case—which might actually be for a bass or something, and a few hoodies and jeans hung up on the hangers.
"My apologies… My son had visited for a few days, and he forgot some of his things here… I called him earlier and he said that he would come to collect his things this evening." Gray explained, clasping his hands together.
"Oh, I see," The Social Worker nodded. "Wait, I wasn't aware that you had a son, Reverend?"
"It's… a long story, he's not really my son, just a young man that I have helped out. He's grown very dear to my heart." Gray said, smiling gently.
"Oh, how touching..! You really are a kind man, Reverend Gray." The Social Worker complimented, grinning widely.
Gray shook his head. "I am but God's humble servant, ma'am."
They had checked out the rest of the rooms, before the woman kneeled before Rachel, taking her hands in hers.
"Do you like your new home, Rachel..?"
This isn't my new home… "Yes," She answered, forcing a small smile.
And with that, the Social Worker left, and Rachel was left in the house with the Reverend.
"So, Daniel requested I take you to him—right now, he's working a shift at my cafe." Gray announced, walking towards the door. "Shall we go..?"
"Ah, alright." Rachel said, sitting up as well, grabbing onto her suitcase. It seemed as if the Reverend had wanted to get her out of the house as soon as possible.
Rachel did not particularly care, anyway.
Water crept up to Isaac's biceps, wetting even his stomach. The dish pit was a scary place… dishes were strewn everywhere, all coated with something disgusting and sticky. Since Zack sucked with customer service, he was usually cast into the dish pit to wash dishes while the cafe wasn't too busy.
Although he hated handling the wet, gross shit, he preferred it over dealing with shitty people. In his time at Gray's cafe, he hadn't improved too much. His anger and recklessness (well, more like clumsiness) prevented him from being the model employee. Zack would often get scolded for mistreating a customer, or for swearing on the floor, or for breaking tons of dishes… and a lot more.
However, he wasn't entirely useless when it came to washing dishes. Zack was better with handling yucky things than Cathy or Danny… Only the Lord knew what kind of shit he had to do in the past… and it wasn't pretty.
Even so, Zack had improved drastically in the customer service department… and had become better with controlling his urges to kill. It was nice—definitely threw the pigs off of his trail once he had become less active.
Now, the only killing he would do would be at the cafe (well, mostly).
Zack wasn't sure how the Reverend chose his sacrifices, but he didn't really care either way. He just liked to kill them, plain and simple. Gray had chosen the first sacrifice a week after Isaac had begun working there—and he had the honours. Now, there was a sacrifice every two days… So Zack was plenty satisfied.
"Zack, I need you over here!" Danny beckoned.
With a sigh of annoyance, Zack threw the dishes he was rinsing on the rack and quickly slid them in the washer so that they'd be finished by the time he got back. He sauntered over to the counter, and checked in with Danny.
"I need you to make me two mango smoothies for the couple over… there." Daniel commanded while ringing in a customer.
Zack grunted—his way of saying 'okay', and got to work.
Smoothies were a pain in the ass to make. Well, sometimes they were fun, but more often than not, they were simply just a pain. They took a while—making sure the consistency was good, and that it was sweet enough and all that shit. But sometimes, it was just fun to create something.
Zack laughed to himself. Wow… He'd never imagine himself thinking that.
Within a couple minutes, he'd whipped up the two smoothies, pouring them into two tall glasses, throwing a straw in each, and took them out to the customers.
"Here ya go," He muttered casually, setting them down on the table.
They thanked him, to which Zack forced them a quick smile. Ugh, he hated having to do that. But as Gray told him, when you smiled at people, they were more likely to give you a tip. And boy, did Zack enjoy having money.
It was something he'd never had before, living out on the streets. Now, he could buy whatever the fuck he wanted… It felt amazing.
He still lived at Gray's place—on the couch (and not in the spare room, because he preferred to be close to the television and snacks in the kitchen), but he had plans to save up and start renting his own place.
Isaac Foster had never thought himself the type to create a normal, typical life for himself… but now, it was something he actually wanted. It was as if living in Gray's house had domesticated him—like taking in a feral cat.
Yet, it'd be awhile before Zack finally got his own place, because he just loved to spend his money. He now owned a collection of snazzy-looking blades—including a scythe. A fucking scythe.
Tits on Christ it was fun to kill people with that thing.
"Ah, Rachel, Gray..!" He heard Daniel exclaim, rushing over to the Reverend. "Rachel..?' Huh, didn't think that twerp had a girl. Isaac peered over to the object of Danny's attention, and then his heart stopped.
It was that baby doll
Isaac rushed over to the doll, who looked upon him with dead, hollowed eyes. "It's you..! The fuckin' bitch who lied to me!"
The young girl's brows furrowed slightly. "…I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean."
"What are you talking about, Zack?!" Danny screeched, stepping between the killer and Rachel.
"That bitch pretended to want me to kill her just so that I wouldn't wanna do it! She lied—said she wasn't fuckin' scared, to try 'an get on my good side!" Isaac screeched.
Some of the customers looked up from their tables with concerned faces.
"Isaac, you're making a scene—"
"I wasn't lying, sir. I wanted to you to kill me. I don't know why you came to the conclusion that I was lying," Rachel said, interrupting Gray.
"Why the fuck haven't I ever heard of this?!" Danny howled, grasping Rachel firmly on the shoulder.
Isaac's blood began to boil, and he could feel the all-too-familiar veil of red being cast over his eyes. He'd waited too long to find this girl—it was as if she'd vanished off of the earth.
"Shut up!" Zack yelled at Daniel, shoving him away from Rachel, and grasping onto her shoulders instead. "Still want me to kill ya, bitch? 'Cuz I wanna! You made me so fuckin' mad, I hate liars! Don't tell me you were lyin'—I don't believe it."
Rachel didn't squirm or flinch under his tight grasp like he expected her to. Instead, she looked calmly up at him with her hollow, emotionless eyes.
"I told you—I wasn't lying." Rachel insisted. "I… I still wouldn't mind dying, I guess."
"Rachel—how could you say that?" Danny exclaimed, his face contorting with hurt.
Zack let out an exasperated sigh. "Yer still as creepy and boring as before..!" He was about to throttle her delicate neck before Gray layed a hand on his shoulder, gently but firmly pushing him away from Rachel.
"Stop. You're scaring the customers," the Reverend intervened.
"Fuck it..! I'm leaving. I'm too fuckin' pissed to fuck around in this shithole." Zack barked, stomping off.
That… bitch. Why was she so… boring…?
Doctor Danny knelt down beside Rachel, gingerly grasping her arms. "Rachel, what happened between you and that monster..?"
Well, she'd begged him to kill her, and he puked. But was all of that… a whole year ago..?
Rachel told Danny of their meeting last year, and he frowned.
"Oh Rachel… Why did you want to die..?" He asked, a sympathetic frown on his face.
"Well," she though, recounting her broken family. "I wasn't happy… But, I didn't want to kill myself."
"Why not..?"
Rachel had sometimes attended church with her parents when she was younger—when they were more of a family. Since then, she had tried to live her life according to the Bible. After all, she wanted to go to Heaven, and be loved by God.
"Because suicide is a sin," she answered simply.
"Are you… happy now..? Do you still want to die, Rachel..?" Danny asked, furrowing his brows.