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."

frustration, Isaac threw himself backwards into the couch where he was sitting and began to silently

tell you later on." He flinched, trying with all

work at five, come down to the church and

"Okay, I'll be there." Isaac hesitantly said, sitting back and

"I gotta go to work now. Be

dad," Isaac sniffed before hanging up the

Isaac noticed a frightened shakiness in his father's tenor that he hadn't heard before; it startled Isaac enough to where he even lost track of where Isaiah was and what he

child squealed out as he handed his

A forced smile came across Isaac's battered face before taking the plastic

customary; Isaiah would just sit and clap his tiny hands as though a parade were trolling right through the living room. The boy

Back and forth father and son played until the newsbreak on the television re-ran reports of the murder of the kidnapper, the dead bodies in his basement and the mutilation

talking heads on just what kind of animal could have possibly

With Isaiah frolicking in his arms Isaac's eyes were locked firmly on the TV as the screen scrolled through every little Sanders girl. Their angelic faces were alive with euphoric vitality as their

lip the longer he concentrated on the screen. He was completely void

out, handing his father his red

shook in perfect unison as Leroy Cummins' sharply dressed photo appeared on the television. He remembered the generous man offering him a ride two days earlier, but

Isaac struggled as he lifted his aching body from off the couch, "your mom wants you to take a bath

to limp his way into the warm bathroom Isaac promptly removed every item of clothing from off the child's body, cut on

strenuous chore to bath Isaiah. The child actually enjoyed being wet; just splashing about in the water was all playtime for him. He knew that he

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

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

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

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

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