Forgive Me by Kateri Stanley (love letters to the dead txt) 📗

She offered him her hand. “Come with me, dear. We can get you cleaned up and you’ll start feeling much better.”

The boy stared at her open palm, hesitating.

Grace smiled gently. “I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

His gaze darkened. “That’s what they said and they lied.”

Grace knelt down on the carpet so she was on the same level as him. Children weren’t keen on being spoken to from an imposing height, it made them feel cornered. “Well, we aren’t those people.” She noticed the dark ring like bruises under his eyes. “What’s your name?”

The boy didn’t respond.

“My name’s Grace and this is my husband, Ted. You know, I used to call him Bear when we first met.”

“Because he’s as big as a bear?”

Grace grinned, hoping she wouldn’t frighten him. “Yes, precisely. Do you have any nicknames?”

“No.”

“What can I call you? It’s important we call you something. It can be anything you wish.”

“Isaac,” he said, turning his head back so they were facing each other. His vivid blue eyes peering. “You can call me Isaac.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Isaac. How old are you?”

Isaac shrugged, shaking his head fearfully. “I don’t know.”

“You’ve never had parties with your friends? Not even on your birthday?”

“I don’t have any friends. I used to get a present when I was extremely good.”

Her heart sunk even further. “I’m sorry to hear that, Isaac. Every child should have a party on their birthday.” The boy looked down at his hands. “I must say, you have lovely eyes. They remind me of a precious jewel.”

A shimmer of a smile grew and died on his mouth. “Thank you. Do you have any children?”

Grace shook her head. “No, but Ted and I always wanted them. Never had any luck.”

Isaac’s face opened with life as if he was recalling something. “That was what the father said when the marshals asked him if he had any children. We wanted to have some but we weren't blessed with any.”

“You know The Lumberjack story?” Ted asked, leaning closer. “I know it too. Heard it from my Pops. It’s a rare tale.”

Isaac nodded. “I do. Peter told me. I used to pray he’d come and protect me.” His eyes pooled up with sadness. “But maybe the lumberjack only protects families, children with moms and dads.”

“Come with me Isaac,” Grace said gently. “We’ll get you cleaned up.”

The boy took her hand with no thought, his movement automatic. His skin felt gritty and hard, it reminded her of her dad’s when he’d come home from the shop, covered in soot and oil from working on cars all day. His grip’s strong for a kid. She noticed that he glanced apprehensively at his rucksack.

Grace escorted Isaac upstairs noticing how he was peering around the corners, checking the doors. It was odd seeing a child acting so grown up, as if he was a little safety inspector. She could picture him with a yellow builder’s crash hat and clipboard tucked to his chest. She showed him to the bathroom and handed him a towel.

After the water was switched on, she rushed downstairs finding Ted placing his shotgun back on the mantel piece. “I believe him, Ted.”

Her husband frowned. “He’s not our responsibility, Gee. The kid’s clearly gone through the pits. We need to hand him over to the police.”

“He said we can’t. I think he’s been abused.”

“Isn’t that what an abused child would say? Grace, he’s been brainwashed by his parents not to contact the authorities because he’ll go into care and they’ll get arrested. It’s a scare tactic.”

“He said he doesn’t have parents.”

“He’s probably lying.”

Grace sighed again, rubbing her temples in frustration. “He might be, I don’t know. But he’s ran from something awful. Look at him. The kid’s hands are covered in blood!”

“I saw, baby. I know you want to help him. I do too.”

“Come on, Ted.”

“You believe the part about the men in white coats?”

“No, I don’t,” Grace sighed. “He’s clearly traumatised. When children experience abuse, they create characters to comfort themselves, to escape hell. You haven’t seen his arms. They’re covered in scars and cuts.”

“Precisely why we need to call the police,” Ted said. “He seemed protective of his bag, I’ll have a look in it.”

“Please don’t,” Isaac whispered. “Don’t tell the police.”

The young boy was wrapped in a large towel, his skin wet from the water spray, he looked more vulnerable without the dirt and blood.

“Do you feel better now?” Grace asked.

“Yes, I do. There’s a reason I don’t want you to call the police. I can show you.”

With a nod from his question, Isaac showed them. Grace felt sick when she witnessed it, her migraine burned fires in her jaw and she grew wobbly. She had to hold onto Ted for comfort.

“I’m sorry if I’ve frightened you both. Do you want to see what’s in my bag?”

They nodded again.

Isaac pulled out a VHS tape and slotted it into the cassette player. They all watched, Ted and Grace were stuck in quiet horror. After the tape was finished, Ted switched off the television. “What do you need from us?”

“I need to disappear,” Isaac said strongly.

Chapter Fifteen

Summer 1996

Becoming Cameron Storms wasn’t as stressful as Isaac had initially thought. Girl clothes were surprisingly easy to move in, bras were irritating, but he coped after years of practice and patience. It was just the camouflage he needed. He learned how to walk like a girl, to talk like one, raising his voice so it chimed instead of burned. It was like being reborn.

Grace supported him with the transition, taking him to the clothes store, picking outfits she thought suited Cameron the best. Calling her Mom and Ted Dad became quite easy. He thought he’d have to punch through a cemented wall in his mind to get past it, trust was completely unfamiliar to him. He’d completely lost his faith in human nature; he didn’t know why he chose Grace and Ted. It was an instinct. He observed them from afar, when he’d hid in the