As far as I can remember, me and Isaac have always been friends. I don’t remember how we met; it was so long ago. According to my parents, he was adopted by the pastor as a toddler. One day, we just became inseparable.
I glanced at the photos stuck to my bulletin board with colorful pins. They were photos of Issac and I, depicting everything my parents considered a milestone. The two of us riding our tiny bikes for the first time, our first day in middle school (we thought we looked so cool, what a couple of dorks), us passed out after a sugar rush on Halloween. Isaac’s dad didn’t let him go trick-or-treating, so I always shared my candy with him at the end of the night.
My trip down memory lane was interrupted by my mom’s voice yelling from downstairs.
“Isaac’s waiting! You don’t want to be late for your first day!”
“I swear you grew like a foot over the summer”, I said as me and Isaac climbed out of my mom’s car.
“Maybe you’ve just shrunk?” Iasac laughed. He’d always been the tallest in our grade, we’d made a game out of betting on how long it took the school basketball coach to try and scout him.
His silver bracelet shone in the sun as he ran a hand through his hair. I looked down at my own matching one. We’d bought them together, using money from our summer jobs. They were nicer versions of those cheap broken-heart ones that said ‘best friends’ in some terrible font.
“Oh, did you see Gabe?” I asked, noticing he was still trying to fix his hair. “Listen if you don’t ask him out this year-“, I was cut off by Isaac punching my shoulder. “Asshole…”, I dryly gasped, smiling despite the pain.
“Shut up! I’ll try and ask him to homecoming…”, he whispered. The two of us walked to the morning assembly. A sharp metallic whine filled the packed auditorium as the principal tapped his microphone.
“Welcome Seniors! I know you’re all really excited for all the parties this year, but remember; don’t stay out too late”, the man said, a strained smile on his face. Normally, a small town like ours was pretty safe, but 3 years ago people started disappearing. It had started with our crazy neighbor; he’d point his hunting rifle at Isaac and I if we ever bent a blade of grass on his lawn. As the years went on, the numbers went up to 2-4 people disappearing per month. The town-wide search parties were always fruitless, like the person had just been swallowed up by the ground. I felt something rubbery hit the back of my skull, an eraser. A look behind me showed the school’s resident troublemaker, Brent, with a satisfied smile on his face. The guy chose someone new to pick on every year and it seemed like it was my turn, great.
“He’s only doing it because you didn’t want to go the summer bash with him, what a dick”, Isaac scoffed, taking the eraser from me, and snapping it in half, making sure that Brent saw.
“I had food poisoning! I wasn’t going at all”, I whispered back, cursing my naïve self for eating gas-station sushi.
Brent kept pestering me the following week: throwing balled-up papers with insults written on them, trying to take my lunch money, all that classic bully stuff.
“He’s not very creative”, Isaac said, biting into his dry cafeteria burger. I nodded, noticing a familiar guy approaching our table.
“Gabriel”, I greeted, watching Isaac’s ears turn pink.
“Charlie”, he greeted back, tipping a non-existent hat. He turned to Isaac with a smile, who, unlike in English class, tried his best not to look directly at him.
“It’s a shame about Saturday, but text me when you’re free”, Gabe said, resting his freckled hand on Issac’s shoulder for a few seconds, before walking off to his friends. I turned to Issac, who seemed to be analyzing the nutritional label on his Gatorade.
“The guy who you’ve been crushing on since 5th grade asked you out, and you said no?” I asked. Isaac’s brows were furrowed, he sighed.
“My dad says I can’t be out at night, you know that”, he said. It was true, his dad wouldn’t let us have sleepovers at my house, we always had to be in Isaac’s apartment, right above the church.
“Not even for this? Can’t you just tell your dad-“, I was cut off by Isaac slamming his hand onto the table.
“No, I can’t!” He spoke loudly, Isaac had always been a calm guy, I was worried, something serious had to be happening. “Sorry…can we just not talk about it, please?” he asked, voice weaker. I nodded and the rest of our lunch break went on in awkward silence.
Brent hadn’t been at school for a whole week. It wasn’t unlike him to skip class, but no one had even seen him on campus. He was reported missing by his parents that weekend, the usual routine began. Search parties in town and the surrounding woods always came back with bowed heads and flickering hope. He was a pest and a bully, but I couldn’t be happy about him being gone.
Isaac was sick, he hadn’t been at school, and he’d stopped responding to my texts. I tried going to the church to see him, but the pastor ushered me away, saying that his son needed to rest. Something felt off, Isaac would occasionally get sick, but he’d be back quickly, and the pastor’s nervous gaze didn’t help. I knew where the extra key was hidden, behind a wooden crucifix on the wall. The pastor was gone, and I let myself in.
There were dishes in the sink, one plate and one set of cutlery.
His room was completely empty, and not just because he wasn’t there. All of Isaac’s posters were taken down, his dresser was barren, and his bed had no sheets on it. I tried to calm myself, tried to rationalize everything, maybe he was on his way to my house because he was feeling better? Maybe all of this was just because his room needed new paint? As I exited the apartment, the old key to the church basement caught my eye. I didn’t know why at the time, but I instinctively grabbed it.
I’d never been in the basement before, me and Isaac had tried to sneak the key to steal some communion wine, we got caught and were both grounded. The old stairs creaked as I walked down, squinting in the dark. The basement was only one square room, with a bit of yellow light given by a hanging bulb. Half of the room was sectioned off by thick metal bars, and I could make out a silhouette behind them.
It was Isaac, but at the same time, it wasn’t.
He still had his dark hair, but it was tousled and knotted, his long legs bent unnaturally backwards. They weren’t legs at all, he had hooves like a goat. His skin was the same, but dark and coarse fur covered most of it. Long, swirling horns protruded from his head, blood at their base like they’d torn through his skull. The worst part was his eyes, they weren’t the warm brown ones I knew, they were completely pitch black. He looked at me, if he recognized me, he couldn’t say it, all that came out was a low snarl. Somehow, I knew that he wasn’t threatening me, he was begging for help. Quick footsteps sounded on the stairs, I turned around to see the pastor and my parents.
My mom tried holding my hand as my dad sat me down on a chair in the corner. I twisted my hand out of hers.
“This is going to sound crazy but Isaac is a demon”, my dad explained, though it raised a million more questions.
“You were very sick as a kid and your father and I tried everything, but you just didn’t get better…we were desperate so we found someone who knew about another way, if you shared your soul with a demon child, everything would be fine” my mom keep her head down, she looked guilty “but we didn’t think about the consequences when we summoned Isaac”, she sighed. The pastor took over, not even looking at his son.
“Isaac had to eat, and we found out that demons eat humans, it started when he turned 14, and we let it go on for too long, all those people who went missing…”, the man said. It all made sense now, the disappearances and Isaac always getting sick after they happened.
“He’s only taken people who are mean to you…we think it has something to do with the bond”, my dad said, trying to convince himself that it made things better.
“Does he know?” I asked, my voice shaking as I looked over to Isaac. He always tapped his foot when he was trying not to be scared, the clicking of his hoof made my head hurt.
“No, he knows what he is, but he doesn’t know what he’s been doing, and it’s gotten out of hand”, the pastor said, finally acknowledging Isaac. As if on cue, more people came into the basement, all carrying books and crosses.
“Don’t worry, they’re just going to send him back, it’s not like in those exorcist movies”, my dad spoke, I couldn’t believe he thought that it was a good time to try and be funny. The phrase echoed in my head ‘send him back’, I could guess where that meant.
“This is where he belongs, he doesn’t know anything else! You can find a way to fix it, he’s your son!” I yelled to the pastor, who was washing his hand in a bowl of water. I thought he’d be crying, I thought he’d feel regret.
His face was completely calm as he turned to me, like being Isaac’s dad for 13 years meant absolutely nothing.
“Charlie, he is a devil, he should have never been brought to this world, any affection you feel for him is solely because your parents made that deal, I’m sorry”, those words betrayed his expression. My dad and another pastor held me back as I yelled out Isaac’s name until my throat felt raw.
They drew a symbol on the floor, Isaac tried to fight them off as they brought him to it, but their hands, washed in blessed water, seemed to burn him. He was thrown into the middle of the circle, chanting filled the room as the concrete floor started opening, revealing an endless crimson void. Before he fell, Isaac turned to look at me one last time, all of our life together flashed through my head.
We were playing pretend in the forest, we were building sandcastles, we were celebrating birthdays, we were staying up all night playing video games, we were psyching each other up to give our crushes valentines, we were planning to be roommates in college.
As the ground beneath his feet crumbled away, I saw him mouth my name, the chanting drowning out his words.
Then he fell.
I chose a college far away and almost completely cut contact with my parents, I was different without Isaac, I felt like a half of something. Isaac wouldn’t have wanted me to waste my life sulking though, so I kept my head up.
I have my own kid now, she just turned five. She keeps telling me that today has been the best birthday ever, but I’ve actually saved the best for last. I carry her on my hip to the garage, her birthday present dangling from her wrist, too big to fit properly. The shine of the silver bracelet makes me smile as I set her down.
“Sweetheart, this is a very special birthday today, do you know why?” I asked, kneeling to be at eye level with her.
“Because I saw a giraffe!” She excitedly answers, referencing our earlier visit to the zoo. I laugh and reach out to ruffle her hair.
“That was special too, but I have one last super special gift”, I stand up and reach over to grab a book from the shelf. It’s old, with a ripped leather cover and yellow pages, I found it at my parents’ house on my last rare visit. I flicker through it and see the rounded symbol; I grab some chalk and begin drawing on the garage floor. My daughter is watching me with piqued interest, she loves drawing in our driveway. She’s my everything and I only want the best for her, and I know what’s best, I know how to ensure that she’s safe and that she always will have someone to rely on.
“Today is the day that you get to meet your new best friend”.