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.
Just then, the smaller Zack began to wake up. “Ah... uh... hu-...?” His eyes opened, and immediately drifted over to Rachel. She wondered if he remembered her, what they've been through, or anything of that matter.
The child immediately became defensive the moment he saw her, and straightened up, he reached for his knife, but was surprised when he didn't spot it. “Huh?” He looked at his sides, and behind him, reached into his pockets, and his hoodie, but didn't find it. He then glared at her, anger filling him.
Rachel tried to calm him, but she thought it would be harder since he couldn't remember her. She assumed he only had the memories he had at this age, which she assumed was somewhere between six-to-seven years old. “It's okay. Are you looking for something?” She said, just as emotionless as she said everything else, thinking that might help them rekindle their relationship, just until she could find a way to turn him back to normal.
“... My knife.” It took him a moment to decide between keeping quiet, and talking to her. But he ultimately chose that not talking to her wouldn't help him as much as talking to her could.
Rachel pointed at the bed next to the one he was sitting on. “It's under my bed.” She remembers that he once told her that he's been a serial killer since he was a kid. So, she wasn't sure that telling him where his weapon was was the best thing she could do. But, if she wanted to earn his trust, she had to be completely honest with him.
The smaller Zack climbed off his bed, and crawled under the one she said was hers. He saw his knife, and grabbed it. He immediately pointed it at her, and glared. “Who are you?!” He demanded. As if he was even remotely threatening to someone like her.
“Rachel Gardner.” She didn't even flinch at his knife. She knew Zack better than that.
“Huh?” Zack's eyes widened at her emotionless face. He looked at his knife, as if trying to see if it was still sharp and deadly. It was, and he shoved it back toward her, only one foot away from her. “Well... then where are we?!”
“In my motel room.”
Zack's eyes narrowed as she gave her same, plain answer, in her dull-ass voice. “Why?” He growled.
That didn't threaten her either. “Because-” She thought about this for a moment. If she said "because we live here" or "because when you're all grown up, we become friends" or anything like that, it'll just confuse him and he might even end up leaving, thinking she was lying or was just insane. Which, she was insane, but he didn't need to know that yet, not at this age.
“...”
She saw he was still waiting, and was probably getting impatient. She had to think of something to say, and fast.
Tap tap tap
The small child began taping his foot in impatience. This wasn't how she was going to get him to become friends with her. He would probably lose it and attack her soon.
She had no choice. She had to lie.
“... Because... I found you on the street, unconscious, and you seemed so helpless, I decided to take you here, where I could help you.”
His eyes seemed to widen in surprise.
He believed her.
It broke her heart that he believed her lie.
“Huh...” He seemed to be thinking of what to do next. Then his stomach decided for him. A loud rumble erupted from his belly, he dropped his knife and clutched his belly. “Ack! Oww...” His hunger pains didn't seem to be stopping.
"I wonder how long Zack had to go without food before he became one of Reverend Gray's "angels"?... " Rachel thought. "I hope not too long..." Rachel looked back at the child. His stomach seemed to calm, but he was still holding it. He looked weak. He tried to reach for his knife, but appeared to become incredibly dizzy. He nearly crashed to the ground and fainted, but Rachel caught him, and held him close. “Don't move.” She ordered. Before Zack could reply, and say something stupid like "I'm fine" or "shut up", she continued. “I'll go get you something to eat. Just rest for now. If you need anything, just call me.” She laid the small one on his grown-up-self's bed, and covered him up halfway with the blanket. “My name is Rachel Gardner.” She repeated.
Rachel walked out of the room, and faintly heard the tiny Zack reply, “I fucking know...” And pull the covers closer to him. She smiled a little. The way only Zack could make her smile.
She made some lunch with a side of snack foods, and brought it over to the small Zack. He was currently trying to fall back asleep, but his mind was far too occupied with confusion, and slight worry. “I have some food. Are you awake?” Rachel announced.
The young Zack sat up in his now too-big bed. He gave her a simple nod.
Rachel walked over to him, and saw him scoot away from her, all the way to the back of the bed. "What must've happened to you to make you like this? Why are you so wary of me all the time? You're hungry, and I'm offering you a meal, shouldn't you be leaning closer to me? What happened to you, at such a young age, Zack?" These are all questions that ran through Rachel's head as she sat at the opposite end of the bed.
Rachel placed the tray of food in front of her. “Do you want some?” She asked him the silly question.
He took a look at the food, then at her, then back at the food, and then finally at his own thin frame. He looked back at Rachel, and nodded.
She moved the tray a bit closer to him. “Then est some. Or, do you want me to feed it to you?” She asked, yet again, a silly question. She knew very well Zack liked to do everything by himself. She just wanted him to move closer to her.
It worked. Zack reluctantly sat next to her, and started eating his food. He took a few small bits at first, but soon started chowing down all the food he could fit in his mouth, and small stomach. He can't remember the last time he had this much to eat.
He soon finished, and looked to Rachel. She stared back at him, the same emotionless look on her face. Zack sighed, and looked away from her. He shoved the cleared tray towards her, and grunted, “Th- thanks...” He crawled back under the covers, and pulled them over his head.
“No problem. Let me know if you need anything. Or if you get hungry again.” Rachel said, and went to the kitchen to wash the tray.
And to think about how to put the tiny Zack back to his normal grown-up self.
Meanwhile, Zack can't think of anytime in his six-year-long life where he's been more confused.
"Why is she so nice to me? Why does she care? Why can't I remember passing out on the streets?... What am I forgetting???"