Captain Kangaroo was conversing back and forth with both Mr. Green Jeans and Mr. Moose on the television while Isaac spoke in a low, overcast tone to his father over the phone.

Dressed in the same clothes from the night before, Isaac watched Isaiah crawl and romp about on the floor with his Fisher Price toy phone while he sipped away on his fourth cup of coffee for the morning. Isaac's mind was from the TV and drifting even further away from his son.

Every so often he would stare down at his scarred fingernails that felt as if someone had pierced each of them with sharp needles.

"Isaac, are you still there?" Mr. Mercer worriedly asked.

Shaking himself awake, Isaac replied, "I'm fine, dad. I just got a bad headache. Did the fuzz bring your car back yesterday?"

"Yeah, they brought it back last night. I think the carburetor needs replaced."

Just then, a long pause prevailed. The pause was soon followed by a moan from Isaac's father.

"Son...is everything alright with you? You sure don't sound fine."

Just judging by his father's stretched out gap in speech Isaac could sense that he was stressed over his grueling ordeal. All the young man could do was sit and shut his eyes in angst.

"Yeah, dad, I just need some time to...to work things out."

"Where's Lynn at?"

"She went out to get some more medicine for Isaiah. She said she'll be back before nine."

"Isaac, just relax and let the good Lord take care of everything. You've got a friend in him."

Out of helpless frustration, Isaac threw himself backwards into the couch where he was sitting and

"Dad...I got something to tell you later on." He flinched, trying

get off from work at five, come down to the church

Isaac hesitantly said, sitting back and wiping the

gotta go

"I will, dad," Isaac sniffed before hanging up

hadn't heard before; it startled Isaac enough to where he even lost track of where Isaiah was and

"Dah," the child squealed out as he handed his father his

before taking the plastic receiver, holding it to his ear and saying,

and clap his tiny hands as though a parade were trolling right through the living room. The boy was happy to see someone enjoying his

on the television re-ran reports of the murder of the kidnapper, the dead bodies in his basement and the mutilation of

heads on just what kind of animal could have possibly killed all seven people in one night, and just what authorities were planning on doing to

scrolled through every little Sanders girl. Their angelic

stream of drool dripped down and out of Isaac's bottom lip the longer he concentrated on the screen. He was completely void of any emotion at that instant, as

"Here!" Isaiah blurted out, handing his father his

generous man offering him a ride two days earlier, but what seemed to cause Isaac's head to ache

"C'mon, man," Isaac struggled as he lifted his aching body from off the couch, "your mom wants

limp his way into the warm bathroom Isaac promptly removed every item of clothing from off the child's body, cut on the warm water and then placed his boy inside the tub. With only a bar of soap Isaac scrubbed Isaiah from head to

in the water was all playtime for him. He knew that he should have been paying close attention to the baby at every second, but Isaac's brain just

at the grimy tile while listening to the little girl's scream in his head in a high pitched tone. Much like the proverbial 'fingernails across the chalkboard', Isaac couldn't help but to drown in the hellacious notion that everything that happened two nights earlier was nowhere to be found in his mind. Even the remembrances of the grueling strain of his physical transformation had ostensibly been erased, which was hard to fathom considering the pain

from that of adults to children, and yet, had it not been for the TV, not one person's

the sudden, sprinkles of soapy water splashed into Isaac's dead face, alerting him

a habit." Isaac scolded, shoving the child's right hand away from his

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