I am a Monster

Chapter 4

A couple of months passed after their first encounter. Scott learned pretty quickly that the only way to become friends with Isaac was to make him laugh. He made fun of other patients, joked about the lousy food being served, pulled comical faces, sometimes he even brought board games to kill time. Isaac seemed to have fun and enjoy his company. Scott was slowly tearing down his walls, day by day, brick by brick.

Isaac felt good. He felt normal despite all that stuff written in his case history. Still, he couldn't hide the fact that hallucinations and panic attacks were becoming more severe. He would wake up in the middle of the night and feel his brother in the shadows. Closing his eyes and praying for him to go away had no effect whatsoever.

Panic attacks were less frequent but more violent and crushing. They could be brief or go on for several minutes, forcing the nurses to double the sedatives.

Lunchtime was the only bright light, one of the scarce moments of serenity during Isaac's long days. Scott alone made him feel safe. He clung to him as to an anchor, even though he had already been in deep water enough to taste the salt.

Friday was a special day to the McCalls. Particularly at lunchtime, as Melissa cooked the best lasagna in all of Beacon Hills.

"Scott, honey, you don't have to feel obliged to bring me lunch everyday. You're on vacation, you should see your friends instead of sitting at the hospital all afternoon."

The steaming plate of lasagna lost its flavor all of a sudden and instantly became just a heap of overcooked pasta and sauce. Scott had trouble swallowing the bite. He knew exactly what his mother was trying to say, albeit beating around the bush. He laid down the fork and coughed slightly.

"Stiles spends a lot of time with his dad, I don't see anything wrong with it. I like spending time with you." he shrugged.

"I wasn't talking about me, Scott." Melissa stopped eating and waited for her son to look at her.

"Isaac's influence on you can't be good, son. There's a reason he's locked there."

Isaac had become a friend. He didn't know how or why, but he felt that what they had was unique.

Scott made a habit of visiting him at lunch.

After delivering his mother's sandwich he would wander around until he found Isaac. They would sit and talk about everything. He discovered a lot about him: his favorite game was Assassin's Creed, he loved french fries and he was in the school's lacrosse team. He talked about his brother Camden a couple of times, but never about his parents. Scott knew they were both dead, he had read it his folder months earlier. He surely wasn't going to force Isaac into talking about it.

Sometimes they would sneak off into the garden, hide behind the fountain and lay there quietly until either one of them took the other's hand in his. With fingers intertwined, they would gaze at the green hills all around them, the very hills that Isaac wanted to cross. Scott would promise him that one day he'd grant his wish and take him away on his bike, but weeks passed and the hills were still there. Static. Silent. Mysterious.

Scott often talked about Allison and how in love he was. He talked about her eyes and the way they could light up a room. Isaac would always nod silently.

They weren't strangers to uneasy conversations. They discussed death, fears and worries that could lead to panic attacks. It was during these topics that Isaac would start to become agitated and scratch his trousers. Scott, determined to help him stop that habit, would take his hand and kiss it, causing a smile on his face.

"We're friends."

"He's unstable."

"But he's a friend of mine, mom. He trusts me."

"Scott, I work with patients like him on a daily basis. I can assure you they are all broken. No one ever came back."

The lasagna had already grown cold. Scott rubbed his hand on his jeans and that gesture inevitably reminded him of Isaac. He got up from the chair and cleared the table.

Melissa sighed and managed to stop his son right before he could seek refuge in his room.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Isaac is waiting for me. Today is friday, as in the only day he's allowed out. He asked me to take him some place."

A slammed door marked the end of the lunch. Melissa covered her face with a hand and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the rumbling bike in the distance.

Isaac couldn't keep still. He was walking up and down his room nervously, teeth biting his lower lip. He glanced at the pajamas on his bed and the mere thought of wearing it again tore him apart. After putting on his black coat, he reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the rose bouquet that the nurse ordered for him. Roses were truly beautiful, too bad they died so quickly.

The clock struck four o'clock. Scott still wasn't there. Isaac plopped down on the bed, looking at his worn out All Star. Maybe it was time to buy some new shoes.

"I'm so sorry Isaac! I tried to make it on time but Allison needed a ride, so..."

Right, Allison. Isaac knew everything there was to know about her. He nodded and followed his friend to the exit. He couldn't afford to complain. She was his girlfriend, he was only a friend. An unstable one. Giving top priority to love wasn't wrong, he might have done the same.

They didn't use the bike; that place wasn't far from the hospital and they both felt like walking. The white sky covered Beacon Hills like a frozen blanket. The biting wind made them shiver but did not stop them.

"Thank you. For everything."

"It's ok, Isaac. We're friends."

Scott shrugged nonchalantly and looked over at Isaac, who had been staring at him for quite a while.

"Something wrong?"

"No, no, everything alright."

The iron gate was open and the keeper was sweeping the steps. They greeted him with a nod, which he reciprocated. Isaac was moving forward confidently, almost as if he was familiar with the place. Scott decide to stop and give him some privacy. The blond boy sat on the grass and removed some leaves from the marble stone. He cleared his throat and looked at the picture in front of him.

"I made a friend, mom. His name is Scott. He's my age and his mom is a beautiful nurse. She takes care of me. I think Camden hates me. He had the nerve to lock me up, mom. In the nuthouse. Do I look insane? I know you wouldn't have permitted it. You would have kept me in your arms and comforted me, as only you knew how. Are you ok there? What about dad, does he still smoke more than he should?"

Isaac's voice broke like the tiniest branch of a tree. He raised his head and observed the clouds but no answer came from the sky. He waited for a couple of minutes, then spoke again.

"I'm alright, mom. Really, I am. I bet you would have liked Scott. I don't know, maybe dad would have liked him too. He was always so strict. Is he strict up there with you?"

Still no answer.

"It's just that I miss you both so much. I hope you like the roses."

The wind brushed his cheek and moved the leaves that were around him. The picture of his parents was motionless and would always have been so. He got up from the ground and left the rose bouquet by the headstone, smiling with tears in his eyes. He blinked twice then started walking towards his friend, avoiding his look. He felt like crap. He just wanted to go home and lock himself up in his room.

Before they could step out of the cemetery, the keeper motioned Isaac to stop.

"Your mother is the prettiest woman around here, if it's any consolation."

The old man's face was friendly but veiled in unspeakable sadness. He pitied Isaac. The boy nodded and smiled at him gratefully.

"Yeah. Yeah, she is."