IMMURE

Chapter Five: Mr Crooked Teeth

She watched him as he scrubbed her clean with a soft, pink loofah. Even though she had regained some of her strength, and body mass back, he still insisted to carrying on the routine they followed when she was starved by him. He was twisted, no doubt. He was controlling, selfish, insane, but most of all, broken, beyond repair. At least that's what he thought till he met Melanie. In her, he saw hope. Hope that he could be saved. He could be normal.

Not some blood lusting freak.

But no matter how much he tried to keep his satanic instincts and tendencies at bay, he was still controlling and still did things to Melanie that scarred her. Day in and day out.
He would rape her, in the name of making love. Dictate everything she did, from what she ate, what time she ate, what she wore, when she slept, when she bathed, he dictated it all.

He wasn't like this before. He wasn't so crazy when they were together earlier. So why now? Did Melanie's attempt at escaping, at leaving him, trigger him so much that he couldn't keep up his normal guy, normal life facade?
Melanie reached a stage where she'd sit for hours on end, in her confinement, wondering if she was at fault. If she did something to cause this behaviour, to justify it somehow.
But at the end of every world wind she went over in her head, the conclusion was the same,
She wasn't gonna let him win.

This must have been one of his tactics. He was a clever man, that had already been attested. He knew very well how to get into peoples heads and fuck them up. Hell! He was doing it to her everyday.
One moment he's yelling and shouting at her, beating her up and fucking her like an animal, and the very next, he's clinging on to her tightly, crying into her chest, apologising and begging her to stay. To not abandon him.

This way she'd never have a constant she could expect from him. And hence she could never form a final verdict about what she felt for him, for he didn't give her the stability to form an opinion.
She never knew what his mood would be when she woke up each day, and hence each day that went by, with him being kind, warm and gentle, she would feel some fucked up form of gratitude. Gratitude for not being hurt. That's not Normal! Nothing about them had ever been.

But something Melanie knew, something that bothered her, was that Lorenzo had been through some disturbing things, and they had done a number on him.
She'd pretend to not notice and be asleep when Lorenzo would wake up, panting, at odds hours in the night, recovering from something that seemed to be a recurring nightmare.

He'd always whimper and say "mom" and beg "p-please stop" or "it hurts". What had he been through? What in his past had hurt him so terribly, that it made him the man he was today?

FLASHBACK

A young boy, played with his toys. What intrigued and also sometimes confused people were the barbie dolls in his toy chest, and how he'd fight with his mother and fuss like every seven year old did when he was not given what he desired.
His mother, being a single mother, with only one child, would invariably always give in, and buy him his barbie.

When asked why he like them, he simply replied "They are like humans I can control. I can decide what emotions they feel, what clothes they should wear, what they should eat. I like to make em do what I want em to do." He'd reply shyly, every time he was asked, causing any red flags that would have been raised with an answer like that, to be sidelined and replaced by admiration of how adorable he was.

One day, while he played with his dolls in the living room, he heard the sound of a window break. His mother who was in the kitchen, rushed to his side to see what he broke. But when she saw her son simply playing with his toys, looking as confused as she was, she knew, someone was in the house. Someone who wasn't supposed to be.

She quickly grabbed his wrist, signalling him to keep quiet, hoping they'd make it to the back door exit in time and escape. But it was pointless.
For now they stood, face to face with a man with cold, dark orbs, an intimidating build, and a terrorising grin, perfectly showing his crooked, yellow teeth.

"Don't try anything slut, or I'll shoot the little punk." He threatened, holding up his pistol, in a raspy, deep voice. One of a person, who was a heavy smoker.
She did as was told and didn't move. She gently pushed Lorenzo behind her, to shield him in whatever way she could.

She looked at the man cautiously, trying to get a good note of his every feature, in case she made it out alive and would have to describe his appearance.
But what disturbed her was that she recognised him. She'd slept with him moths before. She was a prostitute after all, and of course she attracted a psycho stalker slash killer.

"I want you to strip, and sit on the couch over there, spread eagle, like you did, the last time I fucked you." He commanded.
She hesitated.
"P-please....n-not....not in front of.....my son."
He sighed in annoyance but gave into her plea.
"Fine. Lock him in the bedroom or whatever."
She quickly grabbed Lorenzo and took him to the bedroom, with the man following. She place Lorenzo in the bed.

He looked at her, absolutely blank. Unreadable. Was he in shock? She'd never know.
She tried her best to put on a brave face.
"Sweety, I need you to stay in this room for a bit, okay? Mommy has to do some work. But I'll be back real soon. I want you to stay here and play with your dolly till then. "
She cupped his face in her palms.
"No matter what Enzie, don't step out of this room." She warned with a firmness Lorenzo had never seen her use before. He simply nodded, and she gave him a long, savouring kiss on the forehead. He felt a tear drop on his head.

He didn't know why she was crying. But he did know that the man standing behind her, watching this whole scene, was already unzipped, and doing something with a long, erected portion of his body.
He was enjoying what he saw, and Lorenzo didn't like it. It made him uncomfortable.

His mother turned and led the man to the living room, shutting the door of the bedroom behind her.
For what seemed like hours, Lorenzo heard his mother's voice, sometimes it was a moan and others a sob. He heard the voice of the strange man, spiting out words he'd never heard before. Words that were cusses.

It wasn't long before Lorenzo heard raised voices and arguments brewing, followed by his mother begging to spare his life and hers.
Why was she begging? What could this man do? Lorenzo had no idea what so ever.
He soon heard a growl of anger, followed by a loud gunshot.
Being in a run down, secluded neighbourhood, it didn't catch any outsiders attention.

Lorenzo didn't move. Too afraid to have done anything. He heard the bedroom door open, only to come face to face with the man who raped him, all night long. Lorenzo only remembered crying, endlessly. Begging for him to stop, but the man wouldn't go away. The pain wouldn't go away.
After what seemed like eternity, the man left Lorenzo, zipped up his pants and left the house. Left the naked, raped, and bleeding seven year old, all alone, in a cold, dark room.

Lorenzo doesn't remember the man's face. He only remembers the harshness of his touch, the sounds of pleasure from his voice, his force and panting, and his painful intrusion into his body.