Forgive Me

by Kateri Stanley

  The more he enjoyed his new life, the more Isaac realised how much of his childhood had been robbed. It started off as a thought, but once the notion was unleashed, it planted seeds and bloomed into a plan. If he got everything precise, he’d finally be free of it. They’d given him the tools, he just had to dismantle it.

  Tracking them down wasn’t hard. They’d scattered in the years of his confinement, living in separate cities and careers, as if the base never existed. It took time, he’d drive out on the weekends, tracking, sometimes walking around in his own skin and return home as Cameron. Each week, the knowledge of their whereabouts grew and one by one, he picked them off like flies. Isaac didn't know it would all come crashing down when he saw her, again. He didn’t know she was at the same school, or in the same year. Hiding in plain sight was surely the easiest way to get through this, right? But the fact she was here standing in front of him, the girl from the cabin all grown up, it was like a dagger to the heart.

  He watched Susan McLachlan walk off with her lame stupid friends. He hated her blonde hair, those green eyes. She always had a nose in a book or in a newspaper. She didn’t say much, it was the others that yapped on.

  What kind of fucking nickname is Stripe anyway? Isaac thought. Some ridiculous army tag. The type of soldier who brown noses their way up the ranks to get to the highest level. No wonder the monster called her that.

  Isaac watched Stripe and her friends congregate by the lockers. After a while, they branched off leaving her alone. The rage in him was surging. His hand balled up by his side. I could do it right now. Tell her the truth, grab her pretty throat and break her fucking neck. Then he’d know what it was like to lose something he loved. If he does love her.

  Isaac moved to his locker, well Cameron's locker and pretended that she was reaching for something.

  “I like your jacket,” Stripe said.

  What the hell? “Excuse me?” Isaac stopped, looking at her.

  “I said, I like your jacket.”

  She’s stupid as well as a bimbo blonde. Isaac peered down at his clothes, noticing he dressed better than her khakis and frilly jumper. “Thanks. Nice…pants.”

  Isaac sensed her body freeze. Perfect. She’s scared of me. No, she’s scared of Cameron Storms. Remember that.

  He didn't expect to be confronted. He deserved a medal for not ripping her head off in netball when she punched him over and over. He didn’t expect her to apologise either when they were scrubbing the gym floor in detention, it was a gesture of true vindication, something which took him by surprise. With her shade of eyes, he didn’t expect the mere glaze of it to exist in her gene pool.

  He knew he was in danger when her voice wouldn't leave him alone, when they began to talk to each other like normal people, like friends. He knew he’d failed when he began to fantasise, fuelling his hand to scuttle into his boxer shorts, biting his fingers so his parents couldn't hear him crying out. Sometimes, he’d flee to his truck to rub one out on the back seat, imagining Stripe panting beneath him. He knew he was weak when he backed her up against the wall of his chevy, unable to hold back the dam of his passions.

  Isaac didn’t know his affections were reciprocated until Stripe’s tongue plunged into his mouth, returning his kiss. This wasn't supposed to happen. She's meant to hate Cameron, she’s not meant to like me...

  Their dance continued. In all honesty, he didn't want to cut the cord. He loved sitting in the movie theater with her, laughing at her poor gaming skills. She’d kick the Pac-Man machine with her foot and grow grumpy when the arcade cashier shouted at her to stop attacking the consoles. They swapped embarrassing stories in McDonalds and fooled around under the bleachers. He nearly let it slip once when she started to trifle on about not seeing her dad because he worked too much. She really was clueless to his antics, the truth wanted to burst from his chest but instead he rolled her onto the grass, mashing his mouth against hers, crushing his hand between her legs.

  So he decided, Cameron could have Stripe McLachlan.

  It wouldn’t last for long, not with his plan already in full swing.

  He saw a strength in her when Cameron announced that their secret relationship was over after Christopher Maxwell’s shameful attack. He saw her beauty when he reported his departure for NYU. He saw her reflected in the face of Peter, the monster, when he broke into her house after senior prom. He’d planned it well. Stripe and her mom weren’t there.

  “Isaac...” Peter whispered.

  “You remember me,” he replied, sitting beside him.

  “I can’t believe you're here. We thought you were dead. I've been trying to find you. For years.”

  “I disappeared because of what you did to me.” Isaac watched him wince. “Why did you do it?”

  His eyes shined and it churned his stomach. “We were trying to create a change in science. Make our country secure. You were handed to us. I know you must be angry. I’m so sorry.”

  “You know nothing of how I feel. None of you do.”

  “You’re the Night Scrawler. You’ve done terrible things, Isaac.”

  “I learned from the best. Us villains think alike. Don't we?”

  “You killed Paul, Victoria, Sheila, Gerald. My friends. How could you? They loved you, nurtured you.”

  Isaac laughed. “True love doesn’t live in torture and manipulation. You made me feel like some cockroach. You all had this coming. You’re only seeking my forgiveness because I escaped. It’s too late. You should’ve seen the light years ago.” He rose to his feet and grabbed his axe from the floor.

  “I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you, Isaac. But… don’t hurt my wife or my daughter. Please.”

  Something tugged in his chest. “You see, I don’t think you’re sorry. Not really. You’re just grovelling because you got caught. I wouldn't hurt your family. I love your daughter, Sir. Stripe is an amazing person, shame she has your looks.” He pulled the mask over his nose.

  Isaac stopped as he watched Peter begin to cry. It was an odd situation, for so many years, it had been Isaac producing the tears, pleading for the pain to stop. The shoe was truly on the other foot. Isaac raised the axe above his head, staring down at his maker. “Don’t open your eyes.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Winter 2015

  Stripe was surprisingly strong when her fingers wrapped around his neck. Isaac had tumbled into the story, realising too late that he'd let the harsh truth out without restraint, getting lost in his own words. Poor Stripe wasn't ready for it. He was too wrapped up in the details to see he was suffocating her. Her hands pressed down hard on his windpipe; her fingers were like snakes wrapping around its prey. Isaac coiled his hands around her wrists, prising her death grip from his throat. He pushed her backwards, trying his best to be gentle. Isaac pressed her into the bed. She was crying, struggling against him.

  This isn’t what I wanted, he thought. I just wanted to see you.

  Stripe batted a hand against his face when it got free. Isaac felt helpless and useless. Now, he was regretting every moment of his stupid plan. He should’ve just let her interview him and get on with her job. Admire, adore her from the distance. What made you think you had a chance?

  Isaac checked the chain; it was thankfully secure. He unravelled himself from Stripe’s writhing limbs and rushed out of the room before she could charge him. He collapsed against the wall, his hands rushing to his face. He should’ve done the right thing and kept it to himself. But nurturing a rotting secret for so long had slithered between the cracks of his psyche and festered. Just like high school, it started off as a thought and then she was sitting in his kitchen, cracking jokes, making him smile. She’d aged well too, and his heart was weakening when he smelt her perfume along with her hour glass figure and her emerald stare. He’d been impressed by her maturity over the years, she could’ve lost herself to pain, self-destructed but she’d fought against it. It didn’t make him feel better on the whole, when she’d started to reminisce about her father
, there were remnants of anguish lingering underneath the surface. It’s all gone wrong because you uploaded a fucking picture of Mom and Dad and she recognised her.

  Isaac glanced back at the door, hearing her despair. I just wanted to see you, Stripe. You don't know how much I've missed you. He staggered to his feet. He had to get out and think before he was going to drown.

  A couple of hours slaved by, there were no sounds from the bedroom. Isaac paced the kitchen, chewing his fingernails. His apprehension was growing like the heat from his skin. Giving her some space was for the best.

  He tried to work on his projects, he answered emails and when he had a call, he rushed to the garage to take it. His colleagues were concerned why their boss hadn't shown up. He told them about the interview with a Titan News journalist and fed a little white lie about a family emergency. They bought it. For now.

  Isaac drummed his fingers against the bone china of a cup of coffee, he was hoping the caffeine would inspire some sort of comfort. He had to think of something, she wasn’t moving in there, that wasn’t a good sign. She could’ve stopped breathing, or worse, done something to hurt herself. Isaac plucked an idea from his mind and went with it; rushing around his kitchen, banging pots and pans. He didn’t know if it was going to work but he had to try.

  He kept his footing light when he entered the bedroom. Stripe was asleep, her head bent to the side facing the window and he watched her chest rise and fall. He edged inside, treading carefully like a child learning to swim. He set the tray by the step of the bed, making sure he was quiet as possible. He saw the fuzz of the television screen and moved to the switch.

  “Don't turn it off,” she murmured.

  Her voice stopped him and he looked at her, she hadn't moved. “Are you sure?” She didn't answer. “I'm sorry, Stripe. You must be pretty disgusted with me. If I could change things, I would. Your food-”

  “I know. Just get out.”

  He did as he was ordered to and tried his best to work again. He participated in a couple of video call meetings, he tried to code to Stone Sour humming in his ears. He tried to game and it wasn’t working, even playing the guitar wasn’t releasing its usual catharsis. He even tried power yoga, performing head stands where he balanced all of his weight on the palms of his hands

  When his parents called, he tried to act busy and perky. As they chatted, he had another idea. “Mom, do you remember a letter I had from high school?”

  “You had a lot of letters, darling. Be more specific.”

  “It was from a girl, I think. After senior year had finished.”

  “The one from that Susan girl, the one who hit you?”

  “Yeah, that one.”

  “Yes, I do. Why are you asking?”

  “Did you leave it here?”

  “Yeah, I did. I left it in the garage with a bunch of your other things from when you were younger. Should be in a box somewhere.”

  “Great, I gotta go. Got another call. Love you.” He hung up and began to search the shelves of boxes and plucked the letter from layers of papers.

  He heard sounds from the bedroom and rushed out of the garage, clutching the letter. Stripe didn't flinch when he burst through the door. “Are you okay?”

  Stripe was perched on the edge of the bed, her chain curving around her leg like she was an exhibit at a museum. She held the remote firmly, studying the images from his past. Her eyes were red and dry from crying.

  “I have something for you,” Isaac announced, tipping the letter towards her. “Something to prove I’m not lying about who I am.”

  Stripe paused the video, snatching the letter from his fingers, reading it hastily. He noted the quiet shock on her face. Isaac stood, watching her mouth move in silence, he wondered if she’d memorised the words.

  “What do I call you?” she asked softly, her focus didn't leave the paper.

  “I...don't understand.”

  “Do I call you Isaac or Cameron?”

  “I prefer Isaac. It's my real name. But you can call me Cameron if it’ll make things easier for you. It won't offend me.”

  She peered up from reading, their eyes meeting. “I shouldn't fucking think it would.”

  “Why were you watching the tape again?”

  “You fucking showed it to me and changed everything.”

  “I wished I hadn't.”

  Stripe sighed with sarcasm. “Well, it’s a bit too fucking late for that now isn’t it.”

  “I hope you enjoyed your food.”

  “You make good soup,” she said plainly.

  A smile grew and died on his lips.

  “How did you become Isaac Payne?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You were Cameron Storms in school and then you turn into Isaac Payne. How did you do it? You can’t transform into someone else overnight.”

  Actually, you can. Isaac hesitated. “Is it okay if I sit?”

  “Sure.”

  Isaac sat on the corner of the bed, pulling his legs up underneath him. “I’ve always been Isaac Payne. Cameron Storms however was just a costume to hide in.”

  “Like a camouflage, as you said.”

  “Yes. If I was being tracked, they were looking for a boy, not a girl.”

  “And these people tracking you, my dad had something to do with it?”

  She doesn’t believe me, even with photographic evidence and proof written in her own hands. “Peter was in charge.”

  “In charge of what?”

  “A scientific experiment.”

  “On you?”

  “Yes.”

  Isaac watched the information sink in. Is she understanding me? He didn’t want to push her and suffer another potential strangulation. “I became myself again before I started at NYU. I told my soon-to-be tutors during the summer that I wasn’t comfortable in my own skin. I needed to be…me.”

  “So Cameron transitioned into a man?”

  “Yes, and it worked. Before I headed up to New York, I cut my hair, I wore men’s clothes, I let my facial hair grow, got rid of any fragments of Cameron. I started speaking normally, with my own voice. Due to teacher confidentiality, they couldn’t say anything. Cameron Storms never went to NYU. After high school, she disappeared.”

  “So you scammed everyone?” Stripe frowned tiredly. “Aren’t you afraid you might be exposed?”

  “No, I kept a distance from anyone who knew me as Cameron. I made her mean for a reason. She had friends in school but she’s not the type to stay in touch. If they searched for her on Facebook for example, she doesn’t show up. She doesn’t exist anymore. Now you know why I didn’t respond to your letter.”

  She began to laugh. At him. “You really haven’t thought this through have you. You don’t think I might expose you?”

  He didn’t respond, he didn’t know how to. He didn’t agree with the light she was bathing him in, he wasn’t conning people. I was hiding from monsters.

  A gratifying smile grew on Stripe’s mouth. “I knew something was off. I’d seen your mom before, I knew your face, even your voice. I’d heard it all before. You’ve blown this article way out of the water with this, the tape, the chain, drugging my fucking coffee. You’re finished. Your career, your life is over, Isaac. You should’ve stayed away from me.”

  She’s trying to frighten me, it’s not working. She wants to make me angry so I’ll hit her. There’s so much she doesn’t know. The video tape is only the beginning. “Maybe, can I ask you something about Peter?”

  Stripe’s smile faded.

  “Do you know what he did for a living?”

  “He worked in a laboratory. He wore a lot of white coats. Sometimes, he’d be gone for days. Okay?”

  “You don’t seem so certain…” As if she doesn’t know what her old man got up to. I’m not surprised.

  “He didn’t do anything sinister. The guy on the tape is not Peter McLachlan.”

  “I’m sorry, Stripe. But it is. I know all of this is hard to take in right now
and I wish I could make you feel better. But, you didn’t know him, at all.”

  “That’s not true,” Stripe whispered, a tear fell down her cheek.

  “I wish things had been different.” He wanted to wipe it from her skin. Stripe sounded disappointed, as if her past and the memory of Cameron Storms had shattered right in front of her. It had, and Isaac was sorry for this.

  “Are you going to hurt me?” Stripe asked, her voice breaking.

  “No,” Isaac replied. “I’d never harm you.”

  “This chain’s hurting. My foot’s going numb.”

  Isaac nodded, trying and failing to keep his nerves at bay. “If I give it a look, will you promise not to hurt me?”

  Stripe gawped at him in surprise. “Me...hurt you?! You're the one keeping me locked up like some fucking animal!”

  Do as she says. She's talking to you as if you're fucking stupid, just the way he did. He took the key from his pocket and knelt by her ankle. Isaac glanced up at her, drinking her in. She kept her gaze fixed on him. He could hear her heartbeat pumping in his ears when the lock came loose. The air rushed out of his lungs as her knee connected with his crotch, he should’ve seen it coming. Liquid fire exploded from his groin. He heard the tray and the crockery clatter to the ground. The letter was thrown into the air.

  Stripe raced out of the room and Isaac watched her searching through her things she'd left on the kitchen counter from before. “Where are my car keys?!”

  You’re the worst kidnapper in the fucking world. Isaac shouted, his throat burning. Stripe retreated to the front porch. He’d forgotten to lock the front door. No, Stripe...

  Please…