His father's hand was limp and clammy as it held his. Isaac badly wanted to pull away and run, just like he always done whenever things went wrong. But he stood still as the train grinded to a halt, shining red in the dim light. It was almost as red as Dorothy's red shoes in that old Wizard of Oz film, and just as impossibly bright.
His father cleared his throat, hazel eyes swimming with some sadness, but the words died in his mouth. Shaking his head, he whispered to his son, "It won't be so bad."
The floodgates threatened to burst, as Isaac's hands shook. He yanked his palm free, and his bottom lip stuck out as he bit back tears. "How do you know that? You haven't even told me anything Da! Not for all these years, and not even now!"
His dad flinched as if he had been slapped, gazing at his empty hand. Clenching his fists, he told his son fiercely, "You must stop it now, Isaac. You're making a scene."
With savagery, the child burst out, "I don't care! I don't even know what being a bloody wizard is! Mam was right about you all along! You're just a failure!" he cried at last, watching as a look of torture spread over his dad's face. Ears burning, he knew it served him right.
But as the look of anger grew cold, Isaac knew he had done wrong. He grew jittery inside as his father strided closer, shadows pooling beneath his eyes. The hand that closed around his wrist was made of iron, and squeezed so hard that he could barely feel his fingers. In a low voice, Richard said to his son, "If you ever disrespect me again in front of anyone, I'll keep you at home for the rest of your life. You are going to Hogwarts, and that's final."
Once again, he held back tears, but these were of a different kind. He felt hurt. Regret clawed at his insides, and he felt an apology coming loose, but he didn't say anything. His father looked angrier than he had ever seen him before. Richard pushed Isaac towards his belongings, and the boy picked up his bookbag by the strap.
The train whistled again urgently. As wizard families stood around, wishing their children goodbye. Isaac walked alone towards the train, solitary and grey. It was easy enough to clamber up onto the railing and into the car. Looking out the door, he met his father's eyes.
The coldness he saw there turned him away. If he didn't look away, his bones would freeze. Holding the old worn backpack and fishing a photo out with his fingers, he gazed at the old portrait of his family. With his fingers, he ripped his father's face out.
The train whistled.
Last edited by Anastasia Beckett on 18th April 2019, 11:31 pm, edited 1 time in total. Reason: Changed Topic Type to RPG
~standing in the eye of a storm~
strength: 6 | agility: 10 | control: 4 | stamina: 10