One Of Them : Bearer Of The Mark

Isaiah Reed stood tall at 6’1", his thick curls slightly messy from the wind, casting shadows over dark eyes that seemed to carry the weight of too many goodbyes. His gaze was fixed on the window, watching as the moving truck swallowed the last of their belongings. Again. Always running. Always leaving. Never staying long enough to matter. He clenched his fists. Behind him, Monica—his mother, still radiant in her early thirties—folded a worn jacket and pretended not to notice the silent storm brewing inside her son. But Isaiah had reached his breaking point. “Why do we always keep moving?!” he snapped, spinning toward her, his voice raw and tight. Monica flinched. The words struck something in her—deep, painful, familiar. She turned, her face trying to hold steady, but a flicker of fear slipped through. “I’m sorry, Isaiah. You know how my job can be sometimes.” Isaiah scoffed, his eyes blazing. “What job?! I’ve never seen you with papers, never seen you go to an office—hell, you barely even leave the house!” She opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. No words came. Just a whisper. “I... I don’t know what to say. But I promise I’ll explain when you’re older.” He shook his head slowly. “What do you mean ‘older’? That’s not an answer, Mom—” Her phone rang. A sharp, shrill sound that sliced through the tension. Monica froze. The screen lit up. One name. No number. Her hands trembled as she picked it up. Her voice dropped—low, tight, scared. “Monica,” said the voice on the other end. Distorted. Filtered. Menacing. Her eyes widened. “You’re not taking him. I won’t let you.” Isaiah blinked. “Mom?” She ended the call with a quick tap, hands shaking harder now. She turned toward him, pale and breathless. “We have to go, Isaiah,” she said. And her voice—Isaiah would never forget that voice. Cracked, desperate. Like something inside her had finally broken. They left that night. Another town. Another lie. Another goodbye. Chrome Valley wasn’t like the others. The air felt heavier here. The sky too still. People stared for too long. And when they looked away, it wasn’t like they forgot—it was like they were waiting. Isaiah hadn’t spoken to his mom in days. She gave him space. She always did after the running. But this time was different. This time, something real had cracked between them. The first week in Chrome Valley dragged like a long shadow. The neighbors whispered behind their doors. Eyes lingered on them at the grocery store. And everywhere they went, it felt like the town was telling them: You don’t belong here. Then came his first day at Chrome Valley High. The principal, Mr. Wess, was the first to greet them. Polished shoes. Wide smile. The kind of guy who wanted to be known as the “cool” principal. But Isaiah could tell from the way he looked at Monica—like she was something he’d been waiting for. Jesus, Mom… he’s practically drooling. Isaiah excused himself and headed for class, map in hand. The halls were unnervingly clean. The lockers freshly painted. It felt less like a school and more like a place that pretended to be one. In homeroom, the teacher didn’t even glance up. “We have a new student today,” he said in a deadpan voice. “Introduce yourself.” Isaiah cleared his throat, feeling the weight of thirty unfamiliar eyes. “Hey, uh… I’m Isaiah Reed. I’m new in town.” The teacher barely nodded. “Sit wherever.” Isaiah found an empty seat in the back, only to realize—he forgot his glasses. “f**k,” he muttered, pressing a palm to his forehead. Then—a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see a tall guy with shaggy brown hair, kind eyes, and a smile that didn’t feel forced. “You okay? Forgot something?” Isaiah exhaled. “Yeah. My glasses.” The guy nodded. “Damn. That sucks. I can lend you my notes after class if you want.” Isaiah looked at him with genuine relief. “Seriously? Thanks, um…” “Lucas. Lucas Wess. You’re Isaiah, right?” Isaiah smiled. “Yeah. Thanks again, man.” “No problem.” The bell rang. Isaiah threw on his headphones, head down, trying to ignore the sudden flood of whispers around him. “You seen the new guy?” “He’s cute.” “He’s hot.” Isaiah never paid much attention to how he looked. But apparently, the school did. Still unaware of the stir he’d caused, he caught sight of Lucas outside and jogged toward him, breathless. Lucas laughed. “What’s up, dude?” Isaiah, panting, grinned awkwardly. “Wanna hang out sometime? I just moved here and... I don’t really have any friends yet.” Lucas raised a brow, surprised but amused. “Sure. Why not?” They exchanged numbers. For the first time in years, Isaiah felt something strange flicker in his chest—hope. But it didn’t last. That night, the apartment was too quiet. Monica wasn’t home. And her phone buzzed on the kitchen table, screen glowing in the dark. Isaiah picked it up. “Hello?” Silence. Then a rasp. A whisper soaked in venom. “Monica… when I find you, I’ll kill you.” Isaiah’s throat dried. “The f**k? Who are you?!” The voice grew louder, more distorted. “Isaiah? I’ll take back what you stole from me.” Isaiah dropped the phone like it burned. His face was pale, chest heaving. “Stole? I don’t even know you!” The door burst open. Monica stormed in, her face a blend of panic and fury. She snatched the phone from the floor. “Who were you talking to?!” she demanded. Isaiah backed away. “I should be asking you that! He said I stole something—what the hell is going on, Mom?!” Monica grabbed his shoulders. “Did you tell him where we are? Did you?!” Isaiah shook his head, trembling. “No! I didn’t even—” She paused, seeing the fear in his eyes. Her grip loosened. “Good,” she whispered. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.” Isaiah stared at her, on the verge of tears. “Handle it?! He threatened to kill you!” She snapped. “Isaiah! I said don’t worry about it!” The room fell silent. His breath hitched. He took a slow step back. “…Okay. I’m sorry, Mom.” It was the first time he had ever seen her truly angry. And the first time he had ever been afraid, not of the voice on the phone… but of what it might take to protect the only person he had left. Who was the man on the phone? What had Monica kept buried all these years? And what did Isaiah have to do with it?