Skinny to the point of starvation, swollen belly, due to vermin, big scars all across his tiny, naked body. Completely bald, with his scalp filled with a myriad of cuts, mostly infected.

Deformed legs, curving outwards and fragile bones due to rachitism. Open wounds slowly being filled with maggots. Missing teeth, broken nose. Big brown eyes, usually red due to constant crying, with a desolate, broken expression.

This was the portrait of Isaac, now nine years old, having been locked in his bedroom and taken for missing by everyone since he was five.

Only God could know for sure everything he had gone through in his captivity. Time was blurry inside the always-dark room and the only true constants there were fear, drawings and the smell.

Ah, the smell… it was the most disgusting mix of years old piles of human feces, pools of urine, vomit, dead things, rotting "food", insect colonies, blood, disease and infection. Over time, Isaac had grown used to it, even deeming it at his own fault. After all, he was the one who made the mess, to begin with.

The only things that brought some humanity to this horrible place were the old, dirty Bible, his drawings and that one chest. Isaac remembered trying to kill himself by suffocating inside it…in the end, he had gotten out of it, crying more than he had ever cried before; rocking himself back and forth in a flimsy attempt to calm himself down and to convince himself that death wouldn't solve things, after all.

He wound up locking himself inside a different chest, after all.

Over time, Isaac had found out he wasn't as alone in his bedroom as he thought he was. In fact, there were five more persons with him.

Magdalene, the always girly lady, always talking to her little dead baby friends and longing for the old times, where Mom would put her in pretty dresses and put her in those pageants. Isaac remembered those as well, but didn't long for them the same way…he just wanted his mother to love him, to forgive his sins and to let him out.

There was also Cain, the boy who was always sick. Cain hated loud sounds, but loved gambling. He could always win another cent! He wasn't greedy, thought. He liked spending his money and even giving it. It just happened that he liked to play. Cain hated fiercely the Eyes, which he always shot down first. Isaac fully agreed with his opinion.

Judas was really scared of the world. The poor boy imagined himself as always in danger and was sure that God hated him enough to let him die. He saw himself as already lost and impossible to save and thus, he tried to find protection in the other side of things…Satan. Judas was very sensitive when it came to textures, and would refuse to touch anything that he didn't like the texture of. Not like there were many other choices anyway, Isaac though.

Then, there was Eve, who managed to be even more religious than Isaac himself, always praying, begging and crying. Eve loved animals, and would always carry her dead bird around, no matter how rotten it was, at this point. Eve hated to remember she was sinful, it hurt her, and she was always trying to fill her mind with bible-related thoughts in order to feel calmer. In made Isaac calmer too, so he could perfectly understand the devout girl.

Finally, there was Samsom. In the same way Judas was overly sensitive, Samsom was numb. He could take on any pain without complaints, since he didn't quite feel it, and often wound up hurting himself when nervous. Whenever any other personality of Isaac would cry, draw or make calming, repetitive gestures, Samsom would practically collapse, screaming, calling Mother, flailing his arms, hurting himself…acting like a lunatic. Isaac was afraid he would, one day, make Mom kill him out of rage.

That was it, Isaac and his many personalities, drawing about their adventures through the basement, down to some caves, conquering the Depths and finally defeating their mother to continue their adventure towards the only true responsible for their fate: Isaac, as a fetus, in the womb.

This way I can have never been born.

His mind was filled with this little world, where things could be better, somehow, where there was some kind of hope for survival. A place with some happy times, like the Arcade, which Cain loved, or the Angel and Devil rooms, which delighted Eve and Judas.

It was a fantasy "paradise", a place to flee to in case things were…just too much to handle.

Maybe that was why he was so shocked to find one of his oldest and most treasured drawings coming to life before him.

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He had spent the day drawing, like always. He was in the middle of a nice run, having reached the Cathedral. He even remembered rerolling some Holy water into the inner eye! He was halfway drawing the room's Gurdy Jr., which he wasn't sure if he would be able to defeat, when it all happened.

First, there was his mother screaming outside, then, she was calling for him and banging at the door. The little kid immediately let go of his pencil and retreated to the corner of the room, near the shelf he had so many time dreamed it would save him.

His mother bursted through the door with an old, all too familiar butcher's knife.

Even now, he could feel the scar in his belly burning, hurting. The Bible hadn't saved him last time, it wouldn't save him now. He could only hope she wouldn't kill him, like she had nearly done so many times before.

He covered his head, completely silent, even if trembling. His mother placed a single candle on the ground, looking around for her son. Unlike Isaac, she wasn't used to dark places.

Thirty seven seconds. This was the time she took to spot the boy.

Isaac didn't to see it. The loud sound of her mother's shoe against the ground as she charged towards him was enough. He prayed it all would be gone quickly, he prayed she wouldn't just stab him and leave him rotting there once again. He prayed, above all, to be forgiven for all of his sins, whatever they were.

Crack! Thump!

This sound sequence snapped Isaac back to reality.

He was paralyzed, simply out of breath. Like in his drawings, his mother laid on the ground, knocked out by something that had fallen from the shelf.

The difference was that this time, the Bible still stood on it's place, firm and solid. What had fallen was, instead, the jar.

The boy couldn't believe it. Not even the sharp ceramic shards digging deep into his feet as he walked towards his unconscious mother mattered right now.

She was bleeding profusely, both due to the shards and the impact against the ground. All of her one hundred kilograms splattered around like some sort of jelly.

He approached, ready to raise his feet and step on her, like in the drawing.

The knife went deeply into the boy's thigh, jagged edges hurting even more. Isaac screamed, less in pain than in surprise and fear.

His mother was still awake, after all, and not happy at all about the broken vase.

Isaac had to be quick. He grabbed his mother's hand, trying to get the knife out of her hand and away from him. He was pulling it downwards, thought, and his own flesh was an additional resistance.

She was stronger than him, if this took much longer, she could easily cut everything down to his foot. He used his other leg to kick her head, to which she replied by trying to stand up. Isaac pressed her head against the ground.

"ISAAC!"

Somehow, her head had gotten stuck on a particularly sharp ceramic piece, now being shoved deeper into her head. She tightened her grip on the knife, practically ignoring the boy's desperate attempts to stop the blade from hurting him even more.

He screamed, kicked, scratched and, finally, bit her hand. She almost let go of it. Another well-delivered kick and she finally, she gave up on her weapon.

He hesitated for a single second, but the sight of his bleeding mother attempting, once again, to regain enough balance to stand up made him panic and act by instinct.

He started stabbing her, making the blade go deeper and deeper into her back, not listening to her agonizing screams as she bled out. It was difficult to make the knife cut, but fear gave him almost supernatural strength.

He probably hit her more than twenty times before realizing what he had just done. He left the knife in the now lifeless corpse of his mother and stepped back, limping.

He fell to the ground, crying. It wasn't like in the drawing. Not at all. It felt terrible, wrong…he sure was going to rot in hell now. He laid there, in fetal position, hand frenetically tapping on the ground while he sobbed.

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"What in heavens has happened there?"

This was the question that crossed the minds of the police officers when they arrived at the horrible smelling room while investigating the lone house at the top of the hill.

They had received a call sooner about screams coming from the house. Apparently, there were two voices, despite the fact the only resident was Sarah Miller, a 48 year old woman who only ever left her house for going to the church.

The caller had been a bird watched who happened to be looking for owls nearby when he heard the sounds. He was too scared to go near the house and so, he had called the authorities.

Heavens knew how good of a decision that had been.

The flashlights, probably the strongest light the room had received in years, revealed each horrible detail of the crime scene. It was almost surreal…none of them had ever seem such a scene, especially not in this peaceful town.

Sarah was checked on, she had no pulse and wasn't breathing. One of them quickly started to try a resurrection, even knowing it was unlikely it would help there. Another one left the room to call reinforcements and an ambulance.

More sobbing sounds. Flashlights were quickly turned in all directions before revealing the crying child in the ground.

There were no reports of anyone living with Sarah since her husband's death and son's disappearance. No one approached her house, either, due to her grumpiness when away from the church. And yet, there we had a naked, weeping kid curled up in the ground next to Sarah's dead body.

Millions of possible reasons sparked on their minds to explain the bizarre situation.

Finally, one of them, a female cop who had three kids of her own, decided to approach him. She went on her knees and slowly, extended her hand until she touched his head.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

His scream was bloodcurling.

She quickly stepped away, eyes wide in fear as the kid sat up, flailing his arms, contorting himself, rocking back and forth, almost hitting his head against the ground, scratching his neck and hitting the floor with his feet.

None of them was expecting that. The woman was paralyzed, without knowing what to do. In the end, she didn't need to do anything, other two officers left what they were doing and contained the child. He wasn't strong, but his movements were erratic and it was difficult to hold him properly.

Finally, they managed to take him out of the room and landed him in the living room's couch, still screaming.

"Mom! Mom! Mommy! Ahhhhhhhhhghh!"

The officers looked at each other. A couple nods and one of them tried to talk to him:

"Isaac? Isaac Miler?"

The kid shivered and went silent for a single minute before resuming his desperate yells and calls.

They had no time to properly understand the implications of that before the sound of loud sirens took the air and more officers came in, along with the doctors, who took to kid away as soon as they managed to.

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Greetings, internet! Here I come with a new fanfic, this time for The Binding of Isaac! We are incredibly short on those…so I decided to start one of my own, obviously!

I hope you like this beginning…it is always the most difficult part to do : / Anyway, do you have a suggestion? An idea? An opinion? Review! : D I really want to know what you think, since this is new territory for me! : P

Just a side note: I decided not to mention the name of the town. Reason? I can't come up with a good name. : P