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

His eyes shined and it churned his stomach. “We were trying to create a change in science. Make our country secure. You were handed to us. I know you must be angry. I’m so sorry.”

“You know nothing of how I feel. None of you do.”

“You’re the Night Scrawler. You’ve done terrible things, Isaac.”

“I learned from the best. Us villains think alike. Don't we?”

“You killed Paul, Victoria, Sheila, Gerald. My friends. How could you? They loved you, nurtured you.”

Isaac laughed. “True love doesn’t live in torture and manipulation. You made me feel like some cockroach. You all had this coming. You’re only seeking my forgiveness because I escaped. It’s too late. You should’ve seen the light years ago.” He rose to his feet and grabbed his axe from the floor.

“I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you, Isaac. But… don’t hurt my wife or my daughter. Please.”

Something tugged in his chest. “You see, I don’t think you’re sorry. Not really. You’re just grovelling because you got caught. I wouldn't hurt your family. I love your daughter, Sir. Stripe is an amazing person, shame she has your looks.” He pulled the mask over his nose.

Isaac stopped as he watched Peter begin to cry. It was an odd situation, for so many years, it had been Isaac producing the tears, pleading for the pain to stop. The shoe was truly on the other foot. Isaac raised the axe above his head, staring down at his maker. “Don’t open your eyes.”

Chapter Sixteen

Winter 2015

Stripe was surprisingly strong when her fingers wrapped around his neck. Isaac had tumbled into the story, realising too late that he'd let the harsh truth out without restraint, getting lost in his own words. Poor Stripe wasn't ready for it. He was too wrapped up in the details to see he was suffocating her. Her hands pressed down hard on his windpipe; her fingers were like snakes wrapping around its prey. Isaac coiled his hands around her wrists, prising her death grip from his throat. He pushed her backwards, trying his best to be gentle. Isaac pressed her into the bed. She was crying, struggling against him.

This isn’t what I wanted, he thought. I just wanted to see you.

Stripe batted a hand against his face when it got free. Isaac felt helpless and useless. Now, he was regretting every moment of his stupid plan. He should’ve just let her interview him and get on with her job. Admire, adore her from the distance. What made you think you had a chance?

Isaac checked the chain; it was thankfully secure. He unravelled himself from Stripe’s writhing limbs and rushed out of the room before she could charge him. He collapsed against the wall, his hands rushing to his face. He should’ve done the right thing and kept it to himself. But nurturing a rotting secret for so long had slithered between the cracks of his psyche and festered. Just like high school, it started off as a thought and then she was sitting in his kitchen, cracking jokes, making him smile. She’d aged well too, and his heart was weakening when he smelt her perfume along with her hour glass figure and her emerald stare. He’d been impressed by her maturity over the years, she could’ve lost herself to pain, self-destructed but she’d fought against it. It didn’t make him feel better on the whole, when she’d started to reminisce about her father, there were remnants of anguish lingering underneath the surface. It’s all gone wrong because you uploaded a fucking picture of Mom and Dad and she recognised her.

Isaac glanced back at the door, hearing her despair. I just wanted to see you, Stripe. You don't know how much I've missed you. He staggered to his feet. He had to get out and think before he was going to drown.

A couple of hours slaved by, there were no sounds from the bedroom. Isaac paced the kitchen, chewing his fingernails. His apprehension was growing like the heat from his skin. Giving her some space was for the best.

He tried to work on his projects, he answered emails and when he had a call, he rushed to the garage to take it. His colleagues were concerned why their boss hadn't shown up. He told them about the interview with a Titan News journalist and fed a little white lie about a family emergency. They bought it. For now.

Isaac drummed his fingers against the bone china of a cup of coffee, he was hoping the caffeine would inspire some sort of comfort. He had to think of something, she wasn’t moving in there, that wasn’t a good sign. She could’ve stopped breathing, or worse, done something to hurt herself. Isaac plucked an idea from his mind and went with it; rushing around his kitchen, banging pots and pans. He didn’t know if it was going to work but he had to try.

He kept his footing light when he entered the bedroom. Stripe was asleep, her head bent to the side facing the window and he watched her chest rise and fall. He edged inside, treading carefully like a child learning to swim. He set the tray by the step of the bed, making sure he was quiet as possible. He saw the fuzz of the television screen and moved to the switch.

“Don't turn it off,” she murmured.

Her voice stopped him and he looked at her, she hadn't moved. “Are you sure?” She didn't answer. “I'm sorry, Stripe. You must be pretty disgusted with me. If I could change things, I would. Your food-”

“I know. Just get out.”

He did as he was ordered to and tried his best to work again. He participated in a couple of video call meetings, he tried to code to Stone Sour humming in his ears. He tried to game and it wasn’t working, even playing the guitar wasn’t releasing its usual catharsis. He even tried power yoga, performing head stands where