Chapter Text
[1.] Nightmare
If Isaac knows one thing it is that he'll never be truly over all the things (his mind still refuses to call it abuse) his father did to him. The memory will be forever ingrained into his mind, lurking in the shadows of his deepest, darkest thoughts, just waiting for a chance to show itself, taking control of Isaacs mind once more.
Yes. He'll never be completely over being shouted at, threatened, being the target for glasses or plates being thrown at him, sometimes with precise aim, sometimes sloppily, always shattering on the wall - and with the kitchen ware, another sliver of hope of just having a normal family shattered.
But all of that - the shouting, the threaths, the porcelain shards stuck in his skin - aren't what Isaac hates the most. The one thing he'd never be truly over is always omnipresent in his mind; always there.
The freezer.
Sometimes, Isaac still feels the surge of so much panic, so much fear and shock and stoppleasemakeitstop
ohmygod
i'lldoanything
justdon'tputmeinthere
please -
and he hates it, really, really loathes being so weak. But he can't really change anything about that - can't change the absolute terror that fills every bone in his body whenever Melissa tells both Scott and himself that they'd behaved badly so now they had to be punished. Can't change the unbelievable relief flooding through him when he hears that said punishment only includes helping her with housework more and a lecture from Melissa. (He doesn't miss the concerned, motherly looks she gives him whenever she sees him flinch at the mention of punishment. But she doesn't say a word, so neither does he.)
And Isaac sure as hell can't change the nightmares that attack him almost nightly, dragging him back into a spiral of memories.
He doesn't know what he did wrong - but not knowing that isn't so unusual for him. It doesn't matter now anyhow - all he has to focus on is not passing out.
His thoughts race, chasing each other, circling around in his head. His heart beats so fast against his ribcage he's sure he's going to explode.
His father's voice is eerily calm, a whisper, when he tells him, "Isaac. Get in the freezer. Now." Isaac flinches violently, staring blankly at the freezer's lid, a scream forming in his throat.
"Please, dad. Don't do this. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I swear I'll be good, I'm sorry, please, plea-", he sobs, frantically trying to break out of his father's grasp.
His father just smirks.
Opens the lid.
And then he's inside - and the lid just... closes. Isaac hears the chains rattling, hears his father's footsteps as he walks away. He's whistling.
Isaac can't breathe. He can't - he has to - please, please, please
He wakes, tangled in the sheets, gasping for breath, a scream forming inside his throat. There are tears on his cheeks, and for a second, he feels mortified. Crying is for the weak, he's weak, he's pathetic, he's nothing, he's worthless, he's -
"Isaac? Honey? Are you okay? Answer me". He flinches violently (again), eyes frantically searching the pitch-black darkness in his room.
His bedside table lamp flickers on, dim light filling the room. Melissa stands beside his bed, her hair dishevelled, a worn-out look on her face. She is in her pyjamas, barefoot, and it's with massive guilt that Isaac realises he probably woke her up.
"I- I-", he gasps for air, still looking around the room in panic, eyes adjusting to the light. His whole body trembles with fear, his heart thumps against his ribcage.
"Oh my god, I am so sorry, I am so sorry. I shouldn't have woken you up. I'm sorry.
God. I am such a mess right now. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... Please, Melissa, go back to sleep. I didn't mean to wake you. I - I - you shouldn't be here. I'm okay, I'm totally fine. Go back to bed. I'm so -",
he rambles, refusing to look at her. He knows the look in her eyes will be one of anger, one of disgust.
Isaac is interrupted by Melissas gentle hand on his forehead, slowly tracing circles onto his skin. The motion is much the same as a mother checking her child for a fever and Isaac is surprised just how motherly it is - still, he has to gather all his willpower not to flinch away.
"Honey. Isaac. Please, please look at me", she whispers, hand never leaving his face. He swallows and turns his head, disbelief rising in his body when he doesn't see disgust etched into her features. Only compassion and maybe the slightest hint of sadness, too.
(Why would she be sad for him? It doesn't even make sense.)
Involuntarily, he leans into her touch - but only a second later he realises what he's actually doing and with yet another surge of panic, he withdraws. An apology forms on his lips, a meek 'I'm sorry, please don't, don't be mad at me, don't lock me in a freezer, please' already waiting to come out.
He remains silent, tears spilling onto his cheeks, trembling with fear and the pure, simple need to be held.
"You don't have to apologise, Isaac. Not ever, alright? I know that what you... experienced will take a long time to heal. And I'll help you with that. It's okay, it really is. Stop apologising, honey, please.
Yes, you woke me. So what? I'm not letting you face your fears and your memories alone. It's okay, honey. Really. Trust me", her voice is so gentle. He finds himself almost believing her.
He merely nods, still too shaken up for a proper response. She smiles, hand reaching up to pat his own; but then she decides to envelop him in a hug instead. Isaac closes his eyes, focusing on her steady heartbeat, forcing the image of the freezer and his father's voice out of his head.
Melissa begins to hum softly, and it's so much like a mother singing her son to sleep that Isaac almost starts crying again. But he doesn't.
He just closes his eyes, focusing on Melissa's presence, on her grounding him and protecting him and keeping him safe.