The Chronicles of Izaak Summers

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Another chapter! Enjoy!

Dead air travels almost like the speed of light except for the one fact that dead air is only imaginable. All in the head. We just feel it dig into us and allow it to take over until we're paralyzed with silence. As horrifying as it may present itself, dead air is desirable to me. It allows only your thoughts to be the main focus and not the bustling twenty-four hour chaos the world constantly has to offer.

Izaak appears to like it also. Both of us sit there on the edge of his bed taking the moment to actually think. Not the rushed thinking one would do to analyze or observe, but the thinking that creates quiet smiles.

The dead air is shattered when Izaak cracks his neck. "Is this weird for you?"

"I don't know what you mean." I reply blandly.

"Yes you do." His body stiffens, "Don't pity me."

"I'm not pitying you, Izaak. There's a difference between pity and empathy." My words come out a little more frigid than I would like in a situation like this.

"What are you to be empathetic about?"

"Don't give me that bullshit. Something is wrong and as you can see, I'm the only one here to listen." I say. This takes him a little off guard, but he participates anyway.

Those blue staggering eyes drill into the side of my face. To abate the insecurities I'm sure were to come, I face him. And no, it doesn't help. "I've never told anyone." He is not looking at me anymore but at the wooden boards that line the unsteady ground.

"Told anyone what?" Though I feel like I'm pressuring him intensely, a good chunk of me believes this is good. Communication with Izaak is good.

"How do I know you're not going to hold this against me?" He snaps his neck up as if he has come to an epiphany. The anger trudging out of his eyes is unbearable.

"Am I that kind of person, Izaak?" For some reason, his accusation makes me furrow my forehead. He's not exactly the person to be testing my trustworthiness.

Izaak has an apologetic expression and faces the floor once again cracking his knuckles and scratching his eyebrows. I decide to stop facing him also to avoid any unnecessary awkwardness. "My mom,"

When he stops at that, I want to encourage him on, but the sorrow in Izaak's eyes tell me otherwise. I've never seen such sorrow before. To urge him on, I scoot a bit closer to give him the idea that someone's here. Here for him. Giving me a sad smile, he hefts in a sigh and goes on.

"My mom is...she has cancer." Izaak clears his throat and I crack my back while trying to straighten it. I wasn't expecting this. Honestly, I was expecting a sob story about Ivy or another girl he banged and escaped. "She was diagnosed about a month ago. She's so sick, Indie, and she needs me."

That's when he gives me a glance that breaks my heart. So many emotions are splattered in his expression, but pin pointing each one of them would be impossible. "Your mom? I thought Jane----." I interject.

"She's not my mom. Never will be. The hoe only married Pa for his money." His blatantly cruel worlds catch me off guard.

"Tell me about your mom----."

"Talia, her name is Talia."

"Tell me about Talia then. What are your memories with her?" I'm no expert on conversations like these. When people disclose things about themselves that I would never have thought of being true, I usually react in the worst way possible. With either a pathetic 'sorry' or just ignore the situation entirely. But for an odd reason, I want so badly to be that person Izaak feels he can turn to.