Monster in Disguise

5. Marcello

Marcello

AGE EIGHT

A noise jolts me awake. I take a moment to realize I'm not dreaming and that my eyes are wide open. It doesn't seem like it, though. Maybe because everything around me is enveloped in darkness.

Trapped in this tiny place, my legs are stiff from crouching. I once again attempt to test the strength of the lock with my hands. I push once... twice... it doesn't budge.

I don't know how long I've been here. I've slept a few times, but with no light, I can't even tell if it's day or night.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. But memories of how this all started assault me.

It had been during Sunday lunch. For what seemed like the first time in forever, Father had demanded we eat together like a family. It had been a tense meal. We had all sat down in silence until Mother started with her crazy whispering.

Father's head had snapped in her direction, and with a snide smile, he'd watched Mother pour holy water on her food, all the while saying prayers.

The more I grew up, the more I realized there was something seriously wrong with Mother. And Father just took advantage of that.

"Liliana," he'd casually said, leaning back in his seat, still watching.

My mother hadn't reacted, so deep in her prayers she was that I don't think she even realized he'd spoken. Big mistake.

"Liliana!" This time, his voice held a threat to it, and it seemed to snap Mother from whatever trance she was in. But she didn't snap gracefully. No... she had to throw the holy water on Father.

"Demon... you're the devil," she'd whispered, and Father's sinister smile appeared once more.

"Devil, huh?" He'd mocked her one moment before his fist had shot out and connected with her cheek. I'd gasped as I watched Mother crumple to the floor, eyes wide, a hand going to the redness appearing on her face.

"Monster..." she'd continued. Father had sat up, tilted his head at her, and in a taunting voice asked,

"And what are you going to do about it?"

Mother's hands had gone to her cross, and she'd stuck it forward, as if hoping to repel the evil in Father. It just made him laugh.

"Your God isn't very generous today, is he?" He'd picked up the knife from his plate, slowly wiping it clean with a napkin. Upon seeing this, I'd realized I couldn't just sit and watch.

Mother was ill... she wasn't herself. But Father didn't care.

"No!" I'd burst out, putting my body in front of Mother's and hoping it would be a good shield.

Father had looked stunned for a moment before laughing once more.

"Boy, you want to defend her?" He'd raised one eyebrow at me, as if challenging me to admit it. "You want to defend this faithless whore?" He'd hissed at her before grabbing the front of my shirt and lifting me in the air.

"Fucking useless piece of shit." It had been very sudden. One moment I'd been hanging in the air, the next I'd been thrown across the room and into the wall. As my back had connected with the hard surface, I'd grimaced. The pain had been too much, and eventually I'd succumbed to it.

The next time I'd woken up, I'd been here. In a small, two-compartment chest of drawers. Or at least that's what I assume it is, since I'd tried to feel my way around it.

Father had shown up a little later.

"Let's see if you feel the same after spending some time in there." He'd chuckled and left me.

And now?

I don't even know what's worse... being deprived of light for so long, or sitting in my own piss and shit for hours upon hours. At first, the smell had made me gag.

Now... I think I've grown desensitized to it.

I try to stay awake for a while longer, but thirst and hunger overwhelm me. I close my eyes.

"Shit dude, it smells like shit in here."

"Fucking hell, you're right. But boss said to bring the brat down... Hold your nose."

There is some rattling, and I realize someone is opening the doors.

"Fuck... ew," a man says. As the doors open, my eyes struggle to get used to the light.

"Grab the brat and let's go," the other man orders dismissively. I am so weak... I don't have the power to struggle against his hold when he tugs me by my clothes.

They keep on making weird sounds and complaining about how disgusting I am, until they bring me to the first floor, to Mother's prayer room.

My eyes widely roam about, wondering what's about to happen. The man carrying me throws me on the floor and they both leave.

I bring my knees close to my chest and link my hands over them, slowly rocking myself. It's not over. I know, with everything in me, that it's not over. I'm here for a reason.

I don't know how much time passes, but suddenly the door to the room opens. Father comes inside, dragging Mother by her hair.

"There he is."

Her eyes are blank as she looks at me. She doesn't react. Father's fingers tighten in her scalp, and even then, her face doesn't betray the pain she must be feeling.

"Now, son. I'll teach you how to treat a faithless whore." He purses his lips for a second. "It just happens that she's your mother. Are you going to interfere again?" He looks straight at me as he asks this.

I can't help but shake my head. Again... and again.

"Good... Good. Why don't we put that to the test?" He flings Mother to the floor and slowly rolls his sleeves up.

"First, you never want to stain your clothes." He explains with an evil smile as he grabs a large cross from Mother's altar.

"Blasphemy..." my mother finally utters as she stares at the cross in Father's hand.

He gives her a bored look, waving the cross around before hurling it onto her face with the flat side. Mother flinches in pain, and I can already see the blood falling down her face.

As if that's not enough, Father grabs her collar, and in one movement he rips the material from her body. Her scarred back is on full display, and he doesn't waste any time in aiming the cross onto her back time after time, until her cries become screams.

"See that, boy?" He turns to me, and I can only watch, stuck as I am in my useless body. I'm rocking even faster, and tears roll down my face as I watch the bloody scene in front of me.

"Liliana, dear." Father makes a tsk sound. "This is a lesson for your boy. Why don't you behave?" He grabs her by the neck and tosses her towards the altar. Mother stumbles and her hands catch onto the altar table for support.

"Yes. Just like that." Father hums in approval. He casually strolls over and, gripping her nape, forces her face down on the altar. Using one hand, Father lifts her skirt and stuffs it around her hips. Somehow I know I'm not supposed to see this.

Mother is... bare.

But I'm stuck. I rock even faster, my sobs caught in my throat.

Father unzips his pants, and he turns to me. His hand is gripped around his penis.

"Watch and learn, boy. This is how you treat a whore." There is so much venom in his voice...

He turns around and mounts Mother from behind. There's only a pained sound coming from Mother's mouth, but Father is quick to push her face down onto the altar.

He keeps moving over her, grunting every time.

I don't want to watch this.

I don't want to see this.

But I can't move.

I keep rocking.

At some point, I think I must have zoned out, because I hear Father say a few more unintelligible things before leaving.

I try to focus... Mother is breathing hard as she drags her body to the floor.

"You... it's all your fault." She keeps repeating, dragging her knees up and imitating my posture.

"Monster!" she says as she rocks herself, just as I was moments before.

"I'm sorry." The words are barely audible, but I say them anyway.

I am sorry... and yet I couldn't do anything to help her.

Weak.

I'm too weak.