Torn Photo Isaac Novels & Stories

A different me. Laughing, laughing, liking... Loving him. I breathe and rip my arm away. The moment his touch is gone, the pictures fade, but the mark stays, haunting me. No. No, it can’t be real. He watches me carefully. "You saw it, didn’t you? You remember now." I shake my head furiously. "That wasn’t real. It’s some trick...some illusion." His smirk returns. "Deny it all you want, but the truth is already breaking inside you. And soon, you won’t be able to ignore it."

Marcus often found himself cringing at Isaac's attempts at humor, but he couldn't deny that Isaac's hacking skills were unmatched. A picture of a girl was noticed by Issac. He glanced at Marcus and at the phone and at his friend again making him irritated and he snapped " WHAT!" "Dude, this is a picture of a girl." Issac pointed, turning the phone screen at him showing the obvious. "I know. So get your fucking laptop and start your shit." Marcus groaned impatiently, emphasizing the urgency of the task at hand. To say Issac was shock would be an understatement. He was in disbelief that his friend was asking him to track some chick, he was yet to share with him.

Elsa "I Armnado Luca, this day reject you, Elsa Roland as my mate" These were the words of Armando, my mate or rather my Ex mate now. It was my twentieth birthday and everything was going smoothly before this happened. Ironically, the party was hosted and organized by Armando unknown to me that he had a hidden agendum. Tears filled my eyes on hearing this and I stared deeply into his eyes and I saw no remorsefulness in him but rather he looked all serious.

"My mother left it to me." Her expression did something I hadn't seen on Issy's face in the months I'd known her. She was the steadiest of Rafe's trackers, composed in a way that went all the way down—not performance, not discipline, but genuine still water. What moved across her face now was not composure. It was something very close to alarm. "Issy." I kept my voice level. "What is it?" She crossed to the shelf. She did not touch it. She studied it with the professional attention she brought to everything, her eyes moving over every carved surface, and then she stepped back.

I need to buy more locks. I slid down the walls and wrapped my arms around my knees and let the tears flow. Fabian is out. He's out. I don't know how long I cried but I slept off in that position. When I woke up the next morning, my head felt like it was splitting into two. My body was stiff from curling up for a long time. The room spinned as I stood. I entered the bathroom to prepare for school. When the water touched my hands, I winced, I had forgotten that I had cuts from picking up the broken glasses last night. The wound stung with every movement.

Others were smeared with lotion and god-knows-what. Pinned over her bed was a massive photo of Madden—shirtless, caught mid-laugh in one of those candid beach photos Isadora once took. His smile now stared down at them like a ghost. And beside it? Burnt photographs of Isadora. Her eyes blackened out. Some faces torn. A few still had scorch marks curling at the edges. Her name had been crossed out on several, replaced by Nyla’s. The final nail? One of the guards pulled a drawer open.

Yurik growled grabbing Isaac by the hair and pulling his head back. "Prolong it as much as possible." I instructed before leaving, the screams and cries muting as I shut the door behind me. A text came through from an unknown number and I unlocked my phone. 'Thank you.' ~ i hope isaac rots in hell

I mustn't run away this time; I gather courage and move forward, finding myself again in front of a body dressed exactly like me, but I can't see its face. "You can't or you don't want to see it?" "I, I can't." "Why can't you, Isaac?" "Because it hurts; I don't want to suffer." "Really, yet I see you clinging to your pain." I've heard that phrase before, "You are..." Behind me, someone is crying; I turn slowly to see who it is. "It's me!" "Isaac, why did you do this to us?" "I haven't done anything." "Look again, see what you've done."

A photo. Isadora, draped in black silk, standing in front of a burning building—one of Rafael’s old training outposts on the outskirts of the city. Her lips curled into a smirk, eyes staring directly into the security camera that captured the shot. Beneath it, just one sentence: “Your city. My turn.” Rafael didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But something shifted in the air around him. The calm before the real storm had shattered.

The next few seconds destroyed me permanently. Isaac reached beside his desk calmly. Too calmly. My brain didn’t even process what he was holding at first. Then I saw the box cutter. And panic exploded through me. “No.” My voice cracked violently through the silent hospital room. “Isaac, stop.” As if he could hear me. As if somehow I could still reach through the screen and save him. He looked into the camera one last time. Still crying. Still heartbroken. Still loving me. Then he dragged the blade across his wrist.