Chapter Text
Once the world had made sense, it had been filled with life, objects to physically touch and understand the world with better, people to help make life seem clearer, the dangers and mysteries around him seemed less daunting, there were explanations, there were people to protect those who couldn’t protect themself. Even Isaac’s own father was sure he could protect others from what they couldn’t see. He only found out demons weren’t invisible forces guiding people towards sin when he saw a face of nightmares standing across from him and from that moment forward life had only existed in nearly indiscernible blips.
His clearest memories were from early on, the longer he had been trapped with this demon, the less clear the world had become. Isaac so clearly remembered the hope he felt as his father did everything in his power to save him. He saw his father’s own pain as he burned his son’s body, as his father’s commanding voice yelled at the creature that had tried to make home inside of Isaac’s body. He had been sure this brief nightmare would be over, he’d recover from his injuries, he’d properly ward demons away from him with the crucifix he almost never worse despite his father’s insistence, and this would all just become an unpleasant story no one wanted to speak about outside of warning others about the dangers of possession. Instead, the next thing he remembered was falling, his father holding him, shielding Isaac’s body with his own, demon or not. The sight of his father’s impaled body was the clearest memory Isaac had while the demon controlled him, the grief and horror was so intense nothing could ever take it from him no matter how desperately he wished it was gone. There were only three times before now since he was possessed that Issac gained control of his own body, when the demon’s presence seemed to retreat into sleep. Every time, Issac had been met with a strange and terrifying new world that made less and less sense than the last one and still every time he desperately went looking for help, but every time, even if he was met with compassion and aid, no one could help him quickly enough as he always was pulled back by the demon when his body’s demand for sleep overpowered his own will.
The first time he woke up, he was alone in unfamiliar woods, his clothes and hair matted with blood and dirt, shallow scratches covering his skin and tearing through his clothes, the burn from the brand his father had put on him long since healed the scar white and faded. He had known from that alone that years must have passed. He couldn’t determine where he was or exactly how long it had been as his body hadn’t seemed to age since the day he was possessed, the day his life ended in every way that mattered.
As much as he wanted to curl up at the base of the tree and scream and cry at the loss of everything he had ever known or held dear, he had forced himself to his feet, chose a direction at random and walked. He wasn’t sure how long he traveled but by the time he heard a voice in the distance, the sun was low in the sky and he could barely stand, exhaustion taking over him as he cried out for help. The person who found him the first time was a man with a hunting rifle slung over his shoulder and a large dog at his side.
Issac had tried telling the man everything that had happened but instead found himself breaking down in tears, every part of his body was in pain, exhausted from hours of walking through thick, unfamiliar forest, unsure if he was even going in one direction, hunger clawing at his sides, thirst nearly unbearable, and the all too familiar grief of his last clear memories overwhelming his every thought. Even if he knew it had been long ago, in every way that mattered, it was only the day before that he watched his father die, the moments jumbled together over the years barely counting as any passing time.
The man hadn’t said anything, or at least Isaac didn’t think he had said anything, but he had lifted Isaac in his arm and carried him while he cried into the man’s shoulder, unable to say anything else. It was another moment of false hope that he felt, that someone would be able to help him, that he’d be rid of the creature that stole his mind and body, that he’d be safe, that he would have a life again even if it was in a place and time that was foreign to him with everyone he knew and loved lost to time. The exhaustion from physical excursion, injury, and grief pulled on him and the security he felt from hope he was stupid enough to believe in had lulled him to sleep in the man’s arms, trusting that he would be taken to someone who could free him.
He should have known that in his sleep the demon would take his body from him again but he had been stupid and careless, not fighting with everything he had to stay awake until he got help. Isaac could only hope that the demon hadn’t harmed the man who was willing to help him, that the creature just stole his body to run back into the night. It’s what he told himself even if he couldn’t stop the images of the man’s body torn to shreds for the crime of helping a child in need from forming in his mind, unsure if he was imagining them or if they were memories through the demon’s eyes, the kind of thing only a demon could punish someone for.
The second time Isaac regained consciousness, he once again found himself filthy, famished, and injured, unsure if that was how the demon always treated his body or if the injuries were the reason its consciousness lapsed allowing for Isaac to take control again. He was lucky the second time, or, well, he thought he was. He had woken up not far from a farming village, the sounds of people and animals drawing him in close.
He saw a woman working near the edge of the forest in a field and without thinking, he ran to her, fell to his knees, clutched her skirt and started crying. He begged her for help, not caring how feral or out of place he looked or how little sense he was making. He didn’t care if he humiliated or drew attention to himself so long as he could get this thing out of him. He didn’t care what happened next, didn’t care if he couldn’t live without the demon in him, he just wanted it gone, there was no price too high to pay, it had already taken everything from him, he didn’t care if it took his life too.
Isaac remembered several people surrounding him as the woman coxed him to his feet and led him through the fields to her home. He couldn’t remember the woman’s name or what she looked like, but he remembered her soothing voice as she sang to him while cleaning dirt and blood from his hair and body in warm water, calming him even while he cried, promising him that their fastest rider was going to the next town over for a priest who was equipped to handle exorcisms than their own. She had sat Isaac down by the fire wrapped in a blanket while his clothes dried and held him as he ate an unfamiliar soup. Between the hunger, fear, and it being the first thing Issac had tasted in years, he was sure that it was the best meal he had in his life.
The woman had carefully tended to his injuries, even though her hands were strong and rough from a lifetime of hard labor, her touch was gentle as she carefully checked every scratch the demon had left on his body. Every time the woman had tried to prompt an answer out of Isaac about what had happened to him, he shamefully gave simple answers or admitted he didn’t know, the woman seeming unsure about possession even though everyone else in the home seemed to be cautious around Isaac as if they were worried the demon would leap out of him and into one of them. If his father hadn’t bound the demon to his body, Isaac was sure the demon would have, the desire to ruin as many lives as possible too intoxicating for an evil beast such as itself to pass up on.
Whether the woman recognized that the cross burned onto Isaac’s chest wouldn’t allow for the demon to leave his body protecting her from possession or she didn’t believe that Isaac was possessed, he didn’t care. As long as someone was coming to perform an exorcism he didn’t care if she didn’t believe him or not. Anyways, even though his possession didn’t feel as long as it was, he hadn’t realized how desperate he was for gentle touch as the woman soothed him when he cried, brushed the knots from his hair, and held him close while he was wrapped in warm blankets to ward off the late autumn chill.
With the exhaustion from injury, possession, and grief mixed with the relaxation of a full belly, gentle arms, and a warm fireplace, it was hard to stay awake, but Isaac had learned his lesson from last time, he wasn’t going to fall asleep until the priest came to save him. The woman had tried to get him to rest but he had refused, terrified of going back into the darkness, terrified of what the demon would do to these people. Isaac spent all that night biting at the fleshy parts of his fingers under his nails, pressing down on the most painful injuries the woman had bandaged, pulling at his freshly washed and brushed hair, and holding his hands close to the fire until he couldn’t stand it a moment longer. The pain kept him awake, he couldn’t risk falling into sleep and letting the demon take over him again while everyone in the home was asleep and defenseless.
The next day was heavy rain with strong winds, treacherous traveling conditions under normal conditions, potentially fatal this close to winter. When Isaac had seen the weather outside, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from crying, all the hope he had felt for freedom gone. He knew then and there that the priest wouldn’t be able to get to this village that day, traveling far in these conditions wouldn’t do anyone any good and he didn’t think he’d be able to stay awake until late into the next day at least. He’d try but he already felt his resolve faltering at the insurmountable task ahead of him, he was already so tired, unsure if the demon leaving him weak when Isaac got back control was intentional or just a consequence of his state.
Even though being this close to winter made travel more difficult, at the very least it meant that the tasks that the woman needed to complete in the field were fewer and less urgent than if harvest hadn’t been brought in yet or it was prime growing season. Even if he was dragged back into the dark by the demon inhabiting his body he wouldn’t be alone while he was awake. His clothes were clean and mended, body clean and bandaged, was being fed, and most importantly he was being cared for in strong, inviting arms holding him close, fingers brushing through his hair, and false words promising him that it would be alright, that he didn’t need to cry, that he was safe.
Maybe if the situation was different, it would have been a day Isaac would have enjoyed, but the dread that built up in him with every hour as the day passed and it got more difficult to stay awake. He bit at his fingers harder and harder until he could taste blood, causing the woman to pull Isaac’s hands away from his face and cleaning the blood off with a damp cloth, scolding him for hurting himself. All Isaac had been able to do was cry again, begging her to not let him fall asleep, that the demon would take over his body again, that he didn’t know when he’d be able to get help again, that he was scared the demon might hurt them if it got out. She had promised she would stay awake with him until the priest got to town the next day and kissed his head and it was all he could do to hope that it would be enough.
No matter how hard he tried, he must have fallen asleep against the woman’s chest while she held him that night. He must have felt too warm, too full, too tired, too safe. Once again, the moment his consciousness wasn’t fully present, the demon took over again and dragged him away from his hope of freedom. Once again, he had to desperately hope that the demon left the woman and her family alone. Even if everyone else had been frightened of him, they were never cruel, they helped from a distance and did what they could to free Isaac of his eternal prison. He especially hoped that the woman, who was in the most danger, who had shown him the most kindness, was okay. He forced himself to imagine that the family was only disappointed or worried to wake up the next morning to find the child raving about being possessed gone and nothing else of consequence happened to them.
The third time that Isaac had woken up had been nothing but chaos, he woke up in the middle of a town filled with more people he had ever seen in his life, loud machines traveling the roads, the air dirty and foul smelling. Everyone he tried to ask for help from accused him of something, shooing him away or trying to attack him, Isaac unsure if the demon had terrorized these people in his body or if the sight of him dirty, bloody and in clothes that looked so different from their own frightened them. Regardless of the reason, where he was met with compassion and aid the first two times he regained consciousness, he was met with nothing but hostility in his third. All he could do was run, desperately hoping he would find help somewhere.
He came across several churches as he ran, desperately pulling at and banging at the doors but no one answered. So many houses of God in this town and none were open to help him and none of the people in this place cared to help him either. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he was first possessed, but if he didn’t have proof that Hell was real, this town would have been enough for Isaac to stop believing in God. Maybe God was gone and all that was left for people was Hell. So many places for God to rest in this place and not a trace of Him anywhere. It was the first time when he regained consciousness that Isaac didn’t have a chance to really hope for any real help.
Eventually he had made it out of the worst of town, the air clearing, people thinning, the loud machines becoming fewer and fewer. He stopped running, he looked around at the landscape around him, ready to sit down at the bottom of a tree and try to escape the hunger and pain consuming him with sleep and give into the demon that had claimed him when he recognized the landscape for the first time. So much of the landscape had changed, the people and the way they lived had changed, but the hills were the same. Every time he had regained consciousness he had assumed he was somewhere far from home, the demon making him travel to do its wicked deed and he had been so desperate to look for help he had never looked closely at the landscape that wouldn’t change in decades. Centuries? Longer? He remembered these hills surrounding his village, he remembered playing on them with his friends, sitting at the top of them and looking down at his home with his father on nice days when he had little work to attend to. Isaac wasn’t sure if he had just returned home or if he had been here the entire time never noticing, but it didn’t really matter where he was before.
Instead of giving up like so much of him still wanted to do, so aware of how cold it was, his stomach growling, his body throbbing in pain, sure that if he were to remove his clothes his skin would be covered in more scratches and bruises everywhere. He didn’t need to look at the damage the demon had done to his body, unsure if the monster was attacked or if it simply liked inflicting pain upon itself, it clearly enjoyed inflicting pain upon others from what Isaac had seen.
Isaac wasn’t sure where he was going until he saw it, the cliff where he first lost all hope. Where he foolishly thought that after a few weeks of recovery and scolding, his life could go back to normal. He wished more than anything he could have heard his father’s reprimands for ignoring all cautions and getting possessed as he tended to the burn wound on Isaac’s chest, he wished he could have apologized, listened to his fathers warnings in the future, and live a normal life. Instead, his father held him while they fell to their deaths and they both lost everything to the demon.
Carefully, he climbed down to the base of the cliff where they fell all those years ago, there may have been a lot that Isaac hadn’t seen over the years, a lot that he couldn’t see clearly, feeling as though he was in some kind of nightmare, but he would never forget the rock he saw his father impaled on as long as he lived. His father’s body was gone, likely long ago removed for burial, all traces of what killed him washed away by years of rain, wind, and animals scavenging for remains.
He wasn’t sure why he came here, he didn’t really want to be here, but his home was long gone, he had no idea where his father’s grave was if it was even still around, so he sat at the base of the rock that stole his father from him, pulled his knees to his chest, and cried. “Forgive me.” He whispered as if that could undo everything, as if that could make him carry his rosary with him after his father told him to again and again and he never listened. As if that could bring his father back. Maybe, just maybe, if Heaven was really there, his father might be able to hear him. Maybe one day Isaac would be able to join him if he wasn’t forced to walk the earth forever as a vessel to a cruel demon. “Forgive me.” He said a little quieter, shivering as a gust of wind blew through the ravine. Why did he always have to regain control so close to winter? It wasn’t fair. Nothing about this was fair. He wasn’t a perfect boy, he did wrong, he sinned, but he wasn’t a bad person. He wasn’t cruel, he never hurt anyone on purpose, he always confessed his sins to his father and tried to be better. He could have been better but he knew he couldn’t have been bad enough to deserve this. Even if he was, his father had been a good and righteous man, dedicating his life to the church and his community, he didn’t deserve to have his son, his only family left, taken from him by a demon. None of this was fair.
As Isaac sat against the rock, cold seeping from his skin to deep in his bones, hunger clawing at his sides, thirst burning in his throat, and pain and grief coursing through his body, he could feel sleep taking over him. Maybe next time he’d wake up somewhere people were kinder, where the demon didn’t attack anyone. As he felt himself being pulled away, out of the corner of his eye, he was sure he could see a familiar figure hurrying towards him, a familiar voice calling his name. He tried to pull himself back into consciousness but either sleep or the demon already had its claws in his mind pulling him away from the figure he was sure was his father.