Isaac closed the door behind Jared's family, leaned against it, and took several deep breaths. He shouldn't have even come downstairs. He wouldn't have, had he known Jared and his family were visiting. Accusing looks from his family was bad enough; he didn't need it from Zac's friends, too. If only his wrist would quit hurting he could stay out of everyone's way.
He pushed himself away from the door and went back into the kitchen. He put the ice pack away and started for the stairs.
"Isaac, where's Mom?" Avery's six year old voice was cold, and he shivered, turning to face her.
"She's at the hospital, visiting Zac. Jessie went with her."
She glared up at him, then marched past him to the TV room. He escaped up the stairs.
Taylor sat on his bed, leaning against the wall, the laptop on his knees. He looked up when Isaac opened the door, then back down, typing furiously. Isaac didn't move. He felt frozen, as if moving were impossible.
"Hey, Taylor. What are you doing?" He finally got it out, and the words seemed to break the ice that encased him. He moved farther into the room.
"Checking email."
"Oh. Anything for me?"
The look Taylor shot him was indecipherable. He'd never seen it before, didn't know what it meant, couldn't read it. "No."
The ice stabbed deeply, settling in his heart. Isaac rubbed his arms, suddenly cold despite the July heat outside. He had to get out of there, away. The walls pressed in, the room suddenly stifling. He gasped in a breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob, spun, and ran.
"Ike..." he heard Taylor call, but he was halfway down the stairs, aiming for the front door. He slammed outside and swerved away from the driveway at the sight of a vaguely familiar someone getting out of their car - come about Zac most likely, whoever it was - and took the long way around the house for the tree house.
It was cooler up there. Isaac huddled in the corner, breathing deeply, his wrist in pain. He tried to make the small bit of ice in his heart go away, but didn't know how. He shouldn't have come up here, but it was the only place he'd be out of the way.
Someone called his name, and he fought the DQ Blizzard of his thoughts to recognize the voice. "Isaac! Are you up there?" Mom, and she sounded worried. He uncurled and walked stiffly to the door.
"Yeah."
"Come down and eat." Her words were cold, the worry a figment of his imagination.
"I'm not hungry." A lie; his stomach growled at the thought of food.
She became angry, folding her arms across her chest. "Fine. Come down and sit with us, then." She turned and strode angrily back to the house. "Now, Isaac!" She called before going inside. It was getting dark out. He'd spent the whole afternoon up there? He climbed down quickly, to keep his wrist from getting injured, and set off across the lawn. The grass tickled his ankles. Ought to mow the lawn, he thought blankly.
The next morning found him doing exactly that, slowly and methodically. He came around the house by the driveway to see his mother getting ready to leave. He focused down, on the mower, on the grass. A hand reached into his vision and turned off the mower.
"I've been yelling at you," she said as he looked up at her. She crossed her arms. "Don't make yourself sick. Don't forget to eat, and drink lots of water."
"Yes, ma'am," he mumbled. His heart hurt. The ice dug deeper, reminding him it was there. She walked back to the car; he had the mower started before the car pulled out of the driveway.
He was edging by the driveway when someone tapped his shoulder. He looked up, sweat- soaked hair falling in his eyes. "Mom said you'd forget to eat," Taylor said, and took his arm. "Come on inside."
Pain spread across his shoulders and down his back as he stood, and his wrist, wrapped against the use he'd known it would get, throbbed. He followed silently, checking his watch to see it was 2:30. His eyes strayed to the flowers that lined the walkway. They could use some care, too.
He stopped when it became too dark to see. He left the clippers by the hedge to mark where he would pick up tomorrow, and walked inside. He noticed his Mom's car had returned as he passed the driveway. He slipped up the stairs, avoiding his family.
He woke up again that night. His descent from the top bunk wasn't any more graceful than it had been, and he checked to make sure he hadn't woken Taylor. He seemed to still be asleep. Isaac walked down the stairs, stiff, sore, and hot. Icing his wrist was on his mind, but he paused in the living room doorway, looking at his guitar sitting in the stand. Before long he had it plugged into one of the smaller amps, the sound turned way down, and he played, trying to dispel the darkness in his mind. Almost abruptly, with a soft click, the sound went off. He looked up to see Taylor and cringed back; his nightmares were getting too real. "Did I wake you?" he asked blankly, hoping his heartbeat would calm down soon.
"You've got a sunburn," Taylor said, eyeing him. "Although, you weren't yelling, if that's what you're asking. But yeah, this new method of getting down takes some getting used to."
"Oh." His hands kept moving, playing nearly silent in the quiet room. "I'm sorry." Behind Taylor, their mother walked down the stairs and stopped, her hand on Taylor's shoulder.
"Go to bed, Isaac." She hadn't called him Ike since he'd called from the hospital; when she called him Isaac, it usually meant he was in trouble. Was he going to be in trouble for the rest of his life? The thought made the ice in his heart dig deeper. He set the guitar back in the stand and stood. He ached worse, too.
"Where's the aloe?" he asked softly.
"I'll get it." The icy voice slipped in his ears and settled in his head as they walked up the stairs. Taylor vanished into the bedroom, and Isaac followed Diana into the bathroom. "Here." She pulled it out of the cupboard, set it on the counter top, then set a prescription bottle next to it. "Take one of these before you go to bed." He looked at her, and noticed the exhaustion in her eyes.
"Thanks, Mom. Good night." She didn't respond, leaving him alone. The aloe soothed the burns as he slathered it on. He hadn't really noticed the sunburn until Taylor had said something. He washed his hands, took the medication, and crawled onto his bed, no more graceful than he had been the night before.
He finished the lawn the next morning. When he went in for lunch, he found a note for him, telling him that he was not to be working on the yard today, and to stay out of the tree house until his wrist was better. After lunch, he curled up in the coolness of the den with one of the books he was supposed to read that summer. He looked up only occasionally, when a noise from the computer pulled him out of the book, but rarely for long and he never said anything. He'd nearly finished when someone clearing their throat dragged him out of the book again. He looked up to see Jessica.
"Dinner's ready," she told him. He blinked, then nodded.
"Thanks." He put the book mark in and followed her to the table.
"I thought I told you not to work on the lawn," Diana said before he even got a chance to sit down.
"I didn't see your note until after I finished," he said softly. He stood behind his chair, hands resting on its back.
"Sit down," she snapped, and turned her attention to Zoe. He did so.
That night he found himself back in the living room, but this time on the keyboards, the sound turned way down, picking out a melody and writing it down. A hand took his arm suddenly in an iron grip and he started, staring up at his mother with wide eyes.
"You have to quit waking me up like this," she said evenly. "If you wake any of your younger siblings you'll be in trouble."
"I'm sorry," he whispered, and pulled his arm from her grip. He turned off the keyboard, and when he looked up again she had gone. He rubbed at his chest, where the ice seemed to spread, then he followed her upstairs, where she gave him another pill.
The next morning, he moved his smallest amp and a guitar into the den, hiding it behind the couch. He also grabbed another of the books he was supposed to read that summer, and some CDs. In the den, he put in Savage Garden, found "Santa Monica", and set it on repeat. He curled up in the corner of the couch and opened his book.
A hand in front of his face much later broke his concentration, and he looked up. Taylor drew back a bit. "Can I change the music? I'm gonna be on the computer."
Isaac shrugged. "Yeah."
Taylor pulled the disc out. "I thought you didn't like "Santa Monica". You had it on repeat?"
"It fit my mood," Isaac said with a second shrug, and started reading again.
Taylor left two CDs later, and put Savage Garden back in. "Was there any email for me?" Isaac asked.
"No." He looked up, wondering why he sounded almost antagonistic, to see Taylor staring back at him. He felt his face heat up and he went back to his book, hunching his shoulders against Taylor's blue eyed gaze. The door closed a minute later, but it took nearly three pages of reading before he relaxed again.
He slid off his bed sometime that night and sank down against the foot of the Taylor's bunk.
"Ike?" Taylor questioned sleepily.
"Yeah, I'm here." The burns itched, but he wasn't leaving until Taylor was asleep for sure. He'd thought he was the night before. He must have been getting their Mom up every time Isaac went downstairs.
"Nightmare?"
"Yeah." He didn't want to talk about it. Tonight, Zac had been a Vampire, and had died twice. He should have known watching "Buffy" right now was a bad idea.
He wasn't sitting there long before Taylor started to snore softly. He got up and tiptoed down the stairs to the den. He turned on the desk lamp, and found the earphones by the CD player. He plugged them and the guitar into the amp, and immersed himself in his music.
The big light came on as he paused to write something down, and he looked up to see his mother in the doorway, furious. "This has got to stop."
"I tried to make sure I wouldn't wake anyone," he protested helplessly, pulling the earphones off. "I'm trying to stay out of your way. What more do you want?"
"Get back to bed."
His shoulders hunched. He turned everything off and followed her upstairs. It was becoming a pattern, and his heart was becoming more and more icy, spreading that chill to the rest of his body. He took the medicine she gave him and crawled back in bed, avoiding her eyes as he did so. He would have sworn Taylor was asleep. How had she found him?
He woke late the next morning and dragged himself out of bed. Downstairs, the news was playing barely loud enough to be heard in the hallway as he went to the kitchen to find something to eat.
"In music news, Zachary Hanson's accident was no accident." Isaac froze. He couldn't see the TV, but he looked in that direction anyway. "An anonymous source claims that Isaac Hanson, Zachary's older brother and the driver of the van, deliberately tried to kill his younger brother. The source couldn't give a motive other than speculating that it might have been jealousy...." The volume went down.
Isaac stood in the hallway, unable to move. They thought he had tried to kill Zac? No, please, no, they didn't say that....
The phone rang, and he heard his mother answer it in the den. "What?" she laughed. "Oh, right. Nice joke, Chris." Then a long pause. "Isaac tried to kill Zac?"
The doorbell rang; it broke his paralysis and he fled up the stairs. He crawled onto his bed, curled up with his back to the door, and didn't move except to cringe every time the doorbell or the phone rang. Someone came and got him for lunch, only the threat of 'Mom will kill you if you're not down there' giving him the energy to make it down.
Taylor and Walker were missing. It took him halfway through lunch before he figured out that they must have gone to the hospital. He didn't look up, focused on his food, and finally excused himself, leaving most of his lunch uneaten.
Upstairs, his eye fell on the laptop. Email. Maybe that would cheer him up. He logged on, and was surprised to see that he did have email. He opened the first one, and read it. He felt the blood drain out of his face, and he gripped the desk and closed his eyes against the nausea that attacked. He didn't think he knew this person. He opened his eyes to read again.
"...of all the cruel things to do. I mean, he's five years younger than you, and smaller. Too bad it didn't work, too bad for you. He's in my prayers. So are you, that you'll get the incredibly painful death you deserve."
He hit delete and opened the next one.
"You better hope I never see you, you SOB. Because I will kill you, slowly and painfully." Isaac's eyes unfocused suddenly, and he rubbed them, turning away from the screen. He knew the author of that one; a friend of Zac's who'd moved away. He turned back, choosing random letters, only to find that each one he chose said mostly the same thing as the first two. He finally got up, the pain too great, and made a dash past the people downstairs to the back door. Standing at the foot of the tree house, he nearly started up before remembering the note he'd gotten the day before. He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. No use aggravating his mother more than she already was. The forest beckoned; he walked into the coolness.
He returned to the house and slipped upstairs without being seen. The guests were gone, which made it much easier. He needed a distraction, something to keep his mind off both Zac and the particularly vicious rumor someone had started. He'd nearly made it to his room, intending to find his notebook and write some, when Avery came out of her room. He almost bumped into her and got a glare.
"Hey, Isaac?" she asked. He stopped, the ice in his chest spreading. Her voice was colder even than his mother's.
"Yeah?" The word almost didn't come out.
"Why would you want to kill Zac?"
He staggered back into the wall, pressing his palms against it to stay on his feet. "I didn't," he choked out.
"You tried," she said evenly. "I heard Taylor talking about it this morning. It was on the news."
Taylor was talking about it? What had he said? Tay didn't believe.... He pulled his thoughts together. "It wasn't true," he gasped. The ice spread farther, tendrils reaching into his lungs, his brain, down to his legs. "I don't have any reason...."
"You hated him!" she yelled. "So you decided to kill him. But it didn't work."
"Avie, it's not true. I want him alive."
"You're calling Tay a liar?"
He couldn't breathe, gasping for breath, trying to make some kind of sense of what she was saying. "I don't know."
She leaned close, putting one hand on his leg, looking up at him with such malice that he flinched back. "Mom hates you. Dad hates you. I hate you. I wish you were dead!"
He just stared at her, unable to move, unable to think of words, his mouth unable to form them. She looked up at him, eyes narrowed, then walked down the stairs.
As soon as she was out of sight, Isaac's knees buckled and he slid down the wall, thoughts a jumble. After a while, things began to make sense, and he began to realize what all Avie had said. "They don't believe me," he whispered. Avery's last words rung in his mind, expanding the ice further. He wondered if he'd ever feel anything again.
Getting up was difficult. He walked woodenly down the hall, checking in each room. The laptop was still on in his, Zoe asleep in the nursery, Mackie asleep in his room. He navigated the stairs unsteadily and found Jessica and Avery watching TV, and his Mom in the laundry room in front of a tape of one of their performances, oblivious, crying.
In the kitchen he found what he wanted and walked upstairs, the ice reaching into his fingers and toes. He walked into the bathroom. There was no need to ruin the carpet and give them another reason to hate him.
He settled down next to the bathtub, leaned over it, and slit from his wrist to about four inches up his arm.
He hadn't expected it to hurt so much. Fire ran up his arm, warm blood running in rivulets off his increasingly numb fingers. He paused, waiting for the cut to numb before he switched hands. He'd finally get some relief from this sprain. The knife slid from his bloody fingers and clattered into the tub. Reaching in awkwardly, he picked it up with his right hand and prepared to make the exchange again.
A gasp made him turn. Jessica stood in the doorway, eyes wide with shock. She lunged forward, pulled the knife from his hand, and took off. "Mom!" she yelled. "Mom!"
"Jessie!" He got to his feet, swaying at the head rush. He pressed his wrist to his chest to contain the bleeding as much as he could, and staggered into the hallway. "Jess, don't run with that knife...." His voice wasn't very loud. He tripped over something - the carpet, probably, like usual - but couldn't catch himself this time. He landed on his left side, back to the wall, and couldn't get back up.
"Mom!" Jessica's urgent voice wafted up to him, faint under the throbbing in his ears.
"Don't run," he mumbled one last time, then everything went black.
Diana grabbed Isaac's right hand, and he realized he'd been rubbing his scar again. He seemed to do that when he was nervous or depressed. Avery stared at him, eyes wide and wet.
"I made you...."
"NO!" Isaac's response was immediate, and he shook his head, hard. "No, no, don't ever think that." He took her hand. "I didn't want to tell you for that exact reason. And that is why I made everyone promise to keep it quiet. It was not your fault."
"Part of it was mine," Diana said. "Isaac wouldn't admit it for a while, and he'll even try to tell you it was his own fault...."
"It was!"
"But none of us helped. I was too angry to be rational. I wouldn't touch him except that once when he was on Taylor's keyboard, because I was afraid of what I might do to him." She smiled at Isaac, who'd opened his mouth to protest again. "Besides, what did Dr. Merris tell you about letting other people take responsibility for their actions?" Isaac's mouth closed with a snap, and he nodded with a wry expression on his face.
Avery turned Isaac's arm over and traced the scar. "I'm sorry."
He sighed. "Me, too." They sat in silence for a while.
"Well, you obviously weren't successful," Avery said, trying to lighten the mood.
"No, but sometimes I think my agent wishes I had been." He waved off the quizzical look his mother gave him. "Later, Mom. It's your turn."
"Yes," she said. "But I need you both to promise you won't tell Taylor that Isaac heard about it from me."
Isaac straightened. "Mom, that's not good," he started, and Diana waved him down, smiling.
"It's okay. And it's necessary. Besides, I've wanted to tell you for years."
"Great, everyone has a secret but me," Avery pouted, then her eyes gleamed. "So, what's Tay's?"
"Tay's had to do with Hansonline."
Go on to Next Chapter | Eclipse