This story has extreme sexual and violent scenes not suited for faint hearts. Read at your own risk.
This is an original composition of the author. Do not plagiarize.
Enjoy reading (or not)...
At the crack of dawn, just as the sun was about to peep between the mound of mountains in the east, a single soul was busy tending to his daisies. Another layer of plot and another batch of the lovely flowers were gingerly planted – orange daisies this time – it was her favorite color after all.
The man smirked and his beady eyes glimmer with the sweet thoughts he's having. He closed his eyes, stands with his head looking up and spread eagled arms, feeling the heat of the early morning rise as it warms his skin defeating the wetness of the wet fog's reign.
Inside his mind an opera plays...
It's cold, so cold
Everywhere he looked
He can see nothing
Yet he knows he's not alone
For somewhere in that basement floor
His sister and mother lays unmoving.
It's all quiet now.
Maybe his brother fell asleep in his embrace.
He's afraid to move and let go of him for he might wake up and starts crying again.
He wonders why he was so rigid and cold
But he doesn't care as long as he stays quiet.
Maybe Mama would be disturbed and woke up and call those uncles again.
How he hoped, she stays asleep a little while longer.
For when she wakes up, the horror would start again.
He's tired, hungry and thirsty.
Maybe he could rest now.
But he kept hearing words. Somebody's talking to him and kept disturbing his much wanted sleep.
Hey! Don't sleep! Let's play a game...
You can't close your eyes...
Let's wait for those uncles...
They play a good game...
“I am tired now.
I don't wanna play their game.
I'm scared of them.
Don't make them comeback again...”
Liar! You liked it!
I know, I did!
“No, no, no!”
Yes, yes, yes!
I don't know you.
Stop being funny.
Sure you know me...
My name is Julio DeMarco
“Same as me?”
Silly! You are me!
What a ninny.
I'd take care of you and me.
From now on.
Remembering all those times filled his heart with hardened resolve. With jaws tightly shut, he decided, it's time.
Time to reclaim what's rightfully his. He's done with sharing.
Before going back to the old house, The man scanned his garden once more. There, at his wide backyard, eight plots layered down one after another. Each one with a wooden plank, sticking out of its middle carefully labeled:
Horatia DeMarco - April 1993;
Hillary – April 2012;
Jane Doe– April 2013;
Hilda – August 2013;
Heidi – December 2013;
Holly – April 2014;
Halley – August 2014;
Hope – December 2014;
Hazel – April 2015;
Hannah – August 2015;
Whistling, he increased his pace and before leaving, he picked a jar full of pink liquid with a pair of peachy nipples swimming in it from the dining table. He placed the jar inside the big refrigerator, carefully aligning it with the others labeled the same as the plots of daisies in the backyard garden.
Once satisfied, he turned to leave. He really needs to hurry up or William would be angry at him.
Several hours later...
It was a typical afternoon and the class was about to end. Twenty eight second graders, fifteen of which are girls, at Westminster Elementary School are behaving rather well on this day alone.
Mr. Ponti, the new Class Adviser, seems being well received by the naughty bunch of youngsters. Commonly, their old teacher, Mrs. Kerrigan, would be nerve-wrecked, stressed-out by now trying to tame the rowdy bunch. But for today, no one tried to stick a bubblegum to the teacher's chair, neither there was any attempt to disrupt the class by running, jumping and throwing tantrums while in the middle of the class.
Nope, everyone was sitting almost perfectly still at their chairs, awed as they listened, enthralled by the voice of their new teacher telling them tales of Prince William and the Magic Castle of Candy Cane.
They even looked disappointed when the bell rung signaling the end of the period. Mr. Ponti smiled and told them that if they are good and do their assignments, then he would tell them more.
It's a Monday, second day of the week and first day of class. Westminster looks like a good school. It isn't that big and crowded and the neighborhood appears as dull as any backwoods county as you could find anyplace else. He would like it here, he hoped.
This is his third and last move for the year and though his stay here would be brief, two months at most, he would prefer it to be pleasant.
By design, he never stayed for more than a quarter of the year at any given school; working as a substitute teacher suits his lifestyle and needs and the first two schools he'd been was a fruitful one, just as he planned.
Which reminds him of his two ex-Lady friends, Hazel and Hannah.
He had thought that each was finally the one. He's turning 34 this month and he had hoped he's already settled and have children of his own by now.
But no! Everyone he meets proves undeserving of his veneration. Hilda, Heidi, Holly, Halley, Hope, Hazel and Hannah... Seven bitches who broke his heart.
One day they are there, the next they are gone.
Sadness and rage silently crept from his heart to his gut. Inexplicable and estrange mixture of emotion that threatens to break the sunny smile he was sporting for the benefit of those angels in front of him. As quickly as it crept out of his subconscious, he immediately tuck it in. There'll be more time to reminisce later.
In a bright grin, coupled with an equally bright voice he beamed,
"Alright little angels, time to say our goodbyes’. Don't forget to do your homework later and remember, be good!"
"Goodbye Sir. Goodbye Classmates. Thank you for this day! Tomorrow we will meet again. Goodbye!" The whole class chanted in chorus. And by that, the class of second graders from Westminster Elementary School ends.
One by one the children went out to go home. All except one - Charlie.
Instructions was given for him to wait inside the classroom by his mom who's also a teacher in that same school.
Mr. Ponti, worried to leave the child alone, decided to stay and check all the worksheets from earlier.
He was watching him thru his peripheral vision while he do his work. The boy doesn't even utter a sound nor move from his sit. For a few second, Mr. Ponti stares at him.
Charlie was short for his age. Raven haired, clear green eyes in contrast to his smooth olive skin. One would think he's Hispanic or at least half. He jogged his memory for his full name, he closed his eyes trying to remember...
He opened his eyes, and suddenly, it dawned on him. Why he was so curious about the boy. He looks just a bit like him when he was that age as is the woman before him looks like the woman he takes after... long and wavy raven black hair, a pair of emerald-green eyes, clear olive skin, red pouty lips and a hint of that Italian accent.
As the woman rants, explaining the many reasons for her delayed appearance and endlessly apologizing for being late to pick up her kid, Mr. Ponti sits frozen at his chair, drowning in the sea-green eyes, very much like his own...
"..... I'm so sorry, really. I'm Mrs. Rossi the gym class instructress. And, Mr. Ponti, welcome to Westminster Elementary!"
As he mechanically answers every other question, an inner voice kept whispering in his ears.
She's the one..
She's the one...
She's the one...
Dare he hope?
Yes! You can, you idiot!
But, what if?
Ask her! You fool! Do you want me to ask for you? Is that what you want, you ninny! What have I been teaching you all these years?
No! No! No!
I'll take this.....
He stands up from his chair and run to the door to catch the mother and son as they were about to turn left on the corridor.
"Hey, Mrs. Rossi, I didn't catch your name? Call me William by the way."
"Prince William!" He heard Charlie exclaimed in astonishment.
Her mother ignored her kid and flashed him with a smile instead, "Horatia...."
As they turned in the corner he could still hear them talking, with Charlie telling his mom about Prince William. But that doesn't matter.
The ringing in his ears kept on getting louder, much like the drum like boom of his heart beat.
Finally William, you remembered.
(The voice inside his head sounds elated.)
Horrible memories of long forgotten past came flooding, cascading, soaking him in muddy, pungent smell of rotting flesh being eaten by maggots, hungry stomach, dry mouth, and of dark cold basement...
Nausea assaulted his senses as image after image of the past parades itself before his tightly closed eyes.
He remembered Titus, his baby brother, cold and dead in his arms...
He remembered Julia, his younger sister, covered in dried vomit and blood, almost as lifeless as he was...
He remembered being rescued...
And most of all, he remembered everything else that comes before that day.
... the sex;
... the mutilation;
... the burning of cigarette butt;
... the chain;
... the whipping;
... the gag;
... the moans;
... the screams;
... the men, two of them;
... the cry of terror of his siblings;
How he liked it!
For the first time of his adult life, William Luciano Ponti wept, while the voice inside of him kept mocking him and reciting a verse from the book of Isaiah 43:25,
“I, I am he who blots out your transgressions for my sake, and I will not remember your sins."
Then proceeds to silently laugh in derision...
Julio DeMarco meet William Luciano Ponti.
(Rest for now William
I'd take care of the both us, like I always have.
From now on and throughout the rest of our lives.)
To be continued...
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