Issac watched, horror being the dominant feature on his young, pale face. There was no time for him to say no. No time to tell her that he didn't want to see. No time...and no will. It was true - a part of him longed to know. Craved this immortal part of life.
He watched as everything around him changed. Objects that were once there now changed in a surreal manner, blurring in and out of his sight. Eventually, his entire surroundings unfolded into a brand-new scene. Seeing it made Issac feel most uneasy, because he felt like he should remember it, but didn't.
It was dark, and the late afternoon hour may have been around midnight. Issac glanced up into the starless sky as a light breeze came into contact with his skin. It was particularly cold, and made goose bumps protrude from his skin. He was already shivering, but his eyes were fixed on the scene in front of him.
The highway was large. Much larger and longer than any he remembered seeing before. A single lone vehicle was driving much too quickly down the slightly inclined road. The HW in particular had five inter-changing lanes, so one would think that there would be more action, even at the late hour. But there was only one car, and as it got closer, Issac could see that it was a van, dark in color and oblong in shape.
Time stood still as his eyes traced what happened next. From the corner of his eye, he saw a large Harley make a wide turn into the wrong direction, and was now driving forward, face to face with the oncoming van. The van in question was clearly oblivious to the advancing threat, and merely picked up the speed.
Issac's pupils darted back and forth as a sign of distress and horror. The two vehicles were much too close to one another now. Collision was inevitable.
He wanted to run forward - to act as a shield between the oncoming forces, but his feet were glued to the ground. He couldn't so much as move a muscle. The air around him was suddenly thick and dense, putting pressure on every square inch of his already hurting body.
The van was the first to react. Seeing the approaching Harley, whoever was driving must have hit the breaks much too hard, causing the entire car to jerk forward very suddenly. Like a bicycle, it spun around on its front two tires, balanced in the air for a fraction of a second, and toppled over to the ground, upside down. Issac could hear the sound of glass breaking, and a loud, earsplitting, feminine scream. That very scream made him feel like each of those broken pieces of glass had pierced his own skin. Straight alcohol poured into his open wounds, setting him to fire...
The van toppled over a couple of times before coming to a stop. Issac noticed that although the Harley and the van came very close to crashing, the incident never occured. It was the van's jerk due to the surprise that caused everything. The Harley itself made a slow, easy turn into another lane, then made another U-turn so that the front was facing the mess that was the van.
Issac couldn't hear anything from the car. Not a scream, not a muffled rumble, nothing. This silence was in fact more frightening than the earlier scream.
He appeared to be unseen by the occupants of the Harley, who hopped off with apparant ease. Dressed in long black trenchcoats and wearing black leather boots, they approached the wrecked van with clear comfort, undisturbed by anything that had happened.
But it wasn't until one of them kicked aside the barely hanging on door that Issac saw inside the van.
And he felt his stomach turn over.
There was a woman, covered in blood. No, drenched would be a more appropriate word. Half of her face was torn off, leaving behind messy remnants of tissue and muscle. Her arm was off to the side, hanging in a very unnatural position. She had no identity - she was gone.
Beside her was a man, and although his face appeared to be intact (despite the occasional bruise or cut), as Issac's eyes traveled lower, he had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from screaming.
The man was completely torn in half from the waist down. His thighs and legs had remained in the seat, kept by the seat belt he wore. The upper half had been hurdled into the front windshield, where his left cheek was pressed up against the bloody glass. Issac watched without breathing as the legs started to twitch maniacally, creating the most horrific sight he'd ever seen. The nerves appeared to still be working, but in a very disturbing way, without the brain to tell them what to do and how to do it.
One of the men stepped forward and withdrew a gun from the depths of his trenchcoat pocket. Holding it with sickening ease, he pulled the trigger, and all movement from the legs ceased to exist.
The other one approached the back doors, and with a swift movement of the hand, blasted one open. Issac watched with motionless eyes as he saw a child in there. His face, arms, and legs were covered in cuts, bruises, and abrasions, but other than that, he appeared just fine. His spine may have been a little crooked, but despite this, Issac saw that his chest was moving up and down.
He was breathing.
The man gently took the unconscious boy's arm and took out a syringe filled with reddish liquid.
"This is for your own good, you know," he said in a voice softer than his looks implied. "I truly hope you survive."
With that, he injected the entire length of the needle into the boy's arm. It suddenly became very stiff, and the man released it. The two exchanged brief nods with one another, and headed back to the Harley, taking off with the speed of light.
Issac was completely deprived of all movement. Was he even breathing? To check, he inhaled deeply, only to find that oxygen made his throat alive with pain. He was chocking on the shock of what he witnessed.
The surreal happenings took place once more. What he had taken as the real life for a moment now spun around him and blurred in and out, until he was back to where he started.
"You understand now," a young voice next to him spoke.
Issac felt his knees give out and collapsed onto the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut so tight he thought his lids would rip.
"I don't want to see....I don't want to see...please, let it all go away...I don't want to see it..."
With these words in mind, Issac felt himself short of all energy and allowed himself to succumb into the dark.