He’s crying and he can’t control it. Not anymore.
You can only pen up your feelings for so long and it was a miracle that Isaac hadn’t blown apart like a balloon under too much pressure. He couldn’t breathe because every time he tried, his chest heaved with another sob and he felt the crushing weight of his heart. It was just so heavy, so full of pain. I had always been that way. Ever since he could remember and for the first time in his entire life,
—h e ’ s l e t t i n g g o .
Letting out all the feelings and emotions he had worked so hard to hide and hating every second of it. He was weak, vulnerable, and he never wanted anyone to see him like this — to see himself like this.
He was broken and couldn’t remember a moment when he wasn’t. Since the moment he had been brought into this god forsaken world, he had ruined it. He lost his mother before she could hold him — he never knew a mother’s warmth but at least he had his father, and Cam.
Then Cam died and his father became a monster but Isaac blamed himself for it all. It was a wonder people didn’t notice. To the brunet, it seemed like guilt, sorrow, and pain radiated off him so much it was almost visible — like an aura of emotion.
He put on a mask, put up a facade and swore to never let people into the depths of his deep and dark mind, to never burden someone else with worry over Isaac’s mental health.
But now it’s crashing down around him and there’s nothing he could do to stop it. He holed himself up in his room, door shut, blinds drawn to simulate the darkness he felt — he did it without even realizing it. He was hugging his knees, leaning his back against the foot of his bed.
His phone had been ringing and he had gotten texts but he couldn’t bring himself to check for any messages. A lifetime’s worth of pent up emotion tended to distract you from little things like that.
He was so absorbed with his crying and anguish that he didn’t realize someone had entered the room until they were right in front of him.
His throat was raw and he couldn’t speak, he just looked at them as his body was racked by another sob. He couldn’t control it and now he had disappointment ready to be added to the list.
Someone was in incredible pain. It was so strong, so powerful it was almost blinding. Summer couldn’t even remember how she’d gotten to where she was now — there was a street, a house, stairs, a door. She pushed it open. Someone was curled up, small, they shouldn’t be small, in the darkness.
A step forward, another step, until she could kneel down before the person. And then the pull cleared, and she realised she was kneeling in front of Isaac. God, he looked so small and broken, turned in on himself like that.
She’d known — how not? — that he carried a heavy burden of shadow; that he didn’t like himself. She hadn’t pried. Not yet, anyway. But here, now, she had to, before he hurt himself beyond bearing.
Reaching out a hand, cut to the heart by the small-child fear in his eyes, she beckoned. “Shhh. It’s okay. You’re not alone.”
