through the dark; vic criss

Five.

Five.

To say Isabelle's father was angry about the Eric incident would be the understatement of the year.

"Where does he live?" Isabelle had just gotten out of the shower when she heard her dad's voice from the living room.

"Dad, you don't need to hurt him,"

"But he needed to hurt you?"

"Dad-" and that was when Isabelle shut her bedroom door. Their voices were no longer clear, instead they were hardly audible. She'd just managed to get dressed into a plain black t-shirt and a pair of denim shorts when there was a knock on her bedroom door.

"Are you decent?" It was Charlotte.

"Yeah,"

Charlotte opened the door, stepping inside Isabelle's room fast enough for Isabelle to only hear 'anymore!' from downstairs. She sat down on Isabelle's bed.

"Dad's kind of seething,"

"I heard,"

"He doesn't want Haley to be around that guy..."

"Eric,"

"Eric. Dad doesn't want Haley around Eric anymore. Haley's trying to convince him that it was a one-off thing, he was just a bit tipsy and he wouldn't have done it otherwise," Charlotte paused, "did you meet him at the party?"

Isabelle nodded. "Haley introduced me to her friends; Eric was with them. I think... I think he was sober at that point but... he was weird. He kept staring at me, it made me uncomfortable and I think Haley knew he was capable of more than just looking. She told me he could be a jerk sometimes,"

Charlotte didn't say anything, just thought this over. Isabelle was in the process of tying her hair up into a ponytail when Charlotte did speak.

"We should go to the park, or something. Just get out of the house while dad and Haley sort this out,"

"The park sounds good," Charlotte grinned at her.

"Great! I'll wait downstairs," Isabelle took a minute to put on her sneakers and apply some deodorant. She braced herself to open the door. No doubt Haley and her father were still arguing.

"Seriously, it's not a big deal!" Haley was saying as Isabelle walked down the stairs. "Dad, look at me, I'm fine."

"You've got a red welt on your cheek!"

"It'll go away,"

"You know that's not the point, Haley,"

Charlotte was leaning against the counter. Their mother was at the sink, probably trying to block out the argument with her task of washing dishes.

"Mum, we're going to the park," Charlotte told her briefly, earning a nod and a smile from their mother.

Isabelle waited until they got outside and Haley's voice was only a distant hum to ask: "Is mum okay?"

Nodding, Charlotte kicked a rock on the pavement. "It just takes a lot out of her when dad and Haley fight - especially about something like this. Because I guess she knows it's not Haley's fault, that Haley shouldn't get yelled at or punished for it but she can see dad's point too. Haley shouldn't hang around with people who hurt her,"

"Dad knows it isn't her fault too,"

"He does. But it's the way he talks to her about it. He doesn't tell her 'I know you're not to blame, but it scares me to think that someone you trust could hurt you without remorse' he just assumes that she knows what he means. He can't just stay calm and unbiased like mum can; he rushes in and reacts destructively without realising,"

Charlotte was good to talk to. Like their mother, she thought things through before speaking and tried to see every angle of a situation. She stayed calm and level-headed and did her best not to judge anyone. Haley was more like their father. She had a bit more of a temper. When she felt a certain way, she'd be honest and upfront about it. She was braver, avoiding conflict only when in didn't concern anyone she cared about and when it did, raising hell.

Isabelle had yet to figure out who she was more like.

Charlotte looked at Isabelle. "They'll be okay. Mum, dad, Haley; they'll all be fine. It just takes a little bit for the storm to settle," Isabelle could only really find it in herself to nod. That was often the only response she had when hit with Charlotte's infinite wisdom.

The park, although looking a little dry, wasn't too bad. There were two people sitting on a bench, a few kids running around, a girl reading beneath a tree. Isabelle wasn't sure how anyone could have the energy to run around on a hot day like this, but she guessed they must have been used to it or something.

Isabelle's train of thought crashed when she spotted a swing set. It looked kind of rusty, a bit old and weathered, but she loved it.

"Is-!" Charlotte called after her as she broke into a jog and rushed to the swings. Charlotte probably murmured 'god damn it' because she knew once Isabelle saw swings, it would take hours to get her away.

As Isabelle swung, Charlotte, reluctantly, walked over to push her. They stayed silent for a while, the only sound was the swing squeaking (which only made Charlotte cringe a tiny bit), birds singing and kids laughing.

"What are we going to do for the rest of the summer?" Isabelle asked, unintentionally sounding younger than she was.

Charlotte shrugged as she continued to push her sister. "Haley probably has ideas. Work starts soon for me, so you'll get a family discount if you guys go to that restaurant downtown,"

"Wow, you're so specific,"

"Shut up,"

Isabelle chuckled to herself, about to speak before another voice broke into their conversation.

"Hi, ladies," fuck. It was Patrick Hockstetter. Isabelle had heard him mock people and talk to Henry enough in class to recognise his voice. When Charlotte's hand came back into contact with Isabelle's back, instead of pushing her again she gripped the back of her sister's shirt. Isabelle stopped swinging and glanced at the swing beside her, where Patrick had begun to settle himself. His eyes were on Charlotte.

"Morning, Hockstetter," Isabelle greeted him, masking the quiver in her voice with indifference. Eyebrow raised, Patrick's gaze moved to her.

"You know my name,"

"We're in history together,"

Patrick hummed. "Wish I'd paid more attention to you in class – you're a pretty one," he reached out, almost as though he wanted to grab at her hair. Isabelle shifted backwards, but his hand stopped in mid-air. Patrick looked behind him, where three figures, probably male, were on their way over.

It was only when Isabelle spotted that familiar head of white-blond hair that she realised Henry Bowers had three friends, not two. 

1108 words.

listen im on my laptop so i cant put an eye emoji here but thats my mood