Tiny Zack!

What even is Zack?

Rachel came home from her shift at the street corner, where she begged for anyone's pocket-change just to get by. She always pulled a few heartstrings, and made some good cash.

Rachel walked down an alley. She crawled under some torn fences, up a few rundown buildings, and slid across mud-covered paths until she made her way to the old motel her and Zack were staying at.

She opened the rickety door, that made a painful squeak everytime she opened it, and debated between taking the stairs or the elevator to her and Zack's floor.

As she made her way to the floor, Rachel mindless thought about Zack. He was very kind to her- in his own way, and was also childish. He couldn't even read yet. Of course, there was not doubt that he was stronger than her, but there was also no doubt that she was smarter than him.

It always kind of astounded her, Zack's ignorance. He was a grown ass adult, and he acted like he was seven, not even seven, six! He acted like a nine-year-old boy. Always wanting to eat junk food, and thinking that he could solve all his problems by either hitting them away, or asking Rachel for help.

Rachel wanted to smile at those memories; the time's where she was most useful to him. These days, her primary uses were money, and her common sense, which, Zack had neither of.

She was always curious, why Zack was the way he was. What happened to him in his youth to make him a serial killer? He never told her. At least, not all of it. Though, she probably couldn't blame him.

Still. You couldn't blame someone for wondering.

In the middle of her thoughts, she arrived at the floor her and Zack shared. She opened the door to their room, and set her pity-moeny on the wooden table that came with the room.

She looked around, and didn't see Zack anywhere.

He wasn't really hard to miss.

A tall, young male, in a hoodie, covered in bandages.

The room itself was mainly yellow, mixed in with some oranges, but that was the way it came. But it was cheap, and at the time they were broke, cheap was already more than they could afford. They couldn't complain.

They had two rooms in this hotel, one was the living room, that compacted with the kitchen, and another was the bedroom.

Rachel opened the bedroom door, but didn't find Zack.

Or, at least not the Zack that she excepted.

She saw a small lump under the covers, and at first, assumed it was Zack. Then she took a closer look at it. The lump was small, even smaller than she was, which explained why their excuse-for-a-blanket could completely cover it.

Rachel sighed, and just assumed the old blanket got clumped up again. Probably by Zack before he left to who-knows-where. Rachel pulled up the blanket, planning to fix the bed, but when she yanked the blanket she discovered that it wasn't just some wrinkles on a blanket Zack hadn't bothered to fix before he left without telling her.

It was Zack.

A small, sleeping Zack, in an oversized hoodie and oversized pants. Sleeping soundly, and only shivering when Rachel pulled the blanket away from him.

Rachel gasped, and took a step back.

“Wha- what? Zack! He looks like Zack. Covered in bandages, and in his clothes... he's really thin... and so small....  he's helpless....” Rachel thought, her mind coming to the conclusion that this was in fact Zack, and that this was what he looked like as a child. Back when he was Issac Foster. She took one step closer to him, and gently laid the blanket back over him, only letting his head poke out so he could breath easier.