Be Myself! - 43. A Child of the Devil

The three of us sat on Oliver’s bed, with me at the head and Jean and Hannah on the other end. She squeezed his hand. He looked towards the window, but I doubted he was really paying attention to the view. He smiled briefly, like he was convincing himself to keep going. His tone came out cheerful, but strained. Forced.

“My parents never tried to kill me directly, though I think if they thought they could, they wouldn’t have hesitated. I killed my mother. I was cursed from the day I was born.”

(...)

We waited for Jean to continue his story. A hollow smile played on his lips, but he took a long time to speak. “I was their seventh child. There were three boys and three girls before me. They expected me to be a good omen, a blessing from God, and a sign that their prayers had been heard. Where I’m from, these things still matter a lot.”

“Where are you from?” I found myself asking, despite the sense of dread building up in my throat.

“Somewhere in the most remote corner in the middle of nowhere in France.” Jean closed his eyes and let his body fall against Hannah. She did not hold him, but shifted her position slightly, so that his head fell more comfortably on her shoulder. “A small village somewhere. I don’t even know the name. My family lived on a farm, and until I was brought to this country, that farm was all I ever knew.”

“You didn’t go anywhere else?”

“No. I was too dangerous to be let out. After what I did, they couldn’t let me loose, but they didn’t want me too close either. They put me in the barn with the cows and horses. I lived in a pen with a hay bed, and spent most of my time there, away from their sight, but close enough for them to punish me when they saw fit.”

“Punish you for what? Why were they keeping you with the animals?” Jean’s story was becoming so familiar to me I felt his loneliness and isolation like I had lived through it myself. The feeling was horrible; it made my entire body go cold and hopeless. Obviously I knew I had not experienced anything like that in my life so far, but I could not shake away the familiarity of it all. If anything, this unexpected empathy made me even more shaky and uneasy about the rest of Jean’s story.

Jean shifted again. He was having a hard time keeping still, and I could not blame him. He straightened his posture and locked eyes with me. The forced smile was gone, and the deceptive cheerfulness in his voice turned to cold darkness. “I never understood it very well. My family didn’t waste their time trying to teach me basic language skills, so I only understood a couple of words and learned to interpret their tone of voice so I had an idea of what they wanted. They were usually scared or angry or both.”

“That’s horrible!” There was not much else I could say. The more Jean spoke, the harsher and more aggressive his tone became. I was so used to seeing his carefree, flirty self that I almost could not bear seeing him so obviously hurt and angry. No wonder he was always so reluctant to share this part of his past.

And yet, he was telling all of this to me out of his own free will, so that I could feel better about my own family troubles. He was revisiting his painful memories to help me get rid of mine. I would never have guessed he cared that much about me.

“I used to think the word they shouted the most to me was my name. I always answered to it, even though I knew nothing good came when they used that word. Only later I learned it wasn’t a name as such.” Jean’s hands played with the hem of his form-fitting shirt, and then turned to his ponytail. He broke eye contact, looking down at his knees while his hands absentmindedly fiddled with his hair. “I don’t think they ever bothered giving me a proper name. If they did, I don’t know what it was.”

“What did they call you?”

“Maudit.” The word came as no more than a whisper. Jean stopped moving altogether; it looked like he had even stopped breathing for a moment. “It means ‘cursed’.” Hannah squeezed Jean’s shoulder, but he gave no indication that he felt the touch. “I’m a cursed child. It’s my fault my mother died.”

“How did she die?”

“She died giving me life. I don’t know the details. I only know it’s my fault and that everyone would’ve been a lot happier if I didn’t exist.”

“She died giving birth to you? How could that be your fault?” I did not want to question Jean’s story, but I had never heard of parents (however horrible they were in other aspects) blaming their newborns for the mother’s death. Death-in-childbirth stories tended to feature overly-emotional fathers who had sad memories about their dead wives, but never a vengeful family going after an innocent child. It made little sense to me, but for Jean it was the unquestionable truth.

“The Devil came to curse me personally, or so they said. My very first act in this world was killing my mother. What good could come from someone like me?” Jean was as still as a statue. His words were emotionless, like echoes of lines memorised long ago from a book. Hannah hugged him from behind. She looked worried. Jean did not seem to notice her, or, for that matter, me. “They kept their distance for their own safety. On the anniversary of her death, they spent the whole day yelling at me. They didn’t dare get close to my pen. They just shouted and threw rocks at me until there was blood. I couldn’t hide from them, or make it stop.” I half-expected Jean to burst into tears any minute now. I felt my own eyes beginning to sting, but his were completely dry. Was it because he had cried so much in the past that there was nothing left now? Or was it because he managed to keep such a cold dissociative distance from those memories that he felt nothing at all from them? Both options sounded horrifying to me. “Her death anniversary. It was supposed to be my birthday, but I was never told what day it was. From inside the barn I could barely tell the difference between night and day, let alone have an idea of seasons, time of the year, or anything resembling a proper date. All I knew is that it was the anniversary, and that they couldn’t let me forget what I had done.”

“So… you don’t even know your birthday?”

“My birthday, my name, I made it all up. I recreated myself when I left that place.” For the first time in seemingly forever, Jean had a shadow of a smile on his face. He leaned ever so slightly towards Hannah. “Leaving my family was the best thing that ever happened to me. Don’t you think so?”

“How did you leave?” It was hard to imagine that someone in Jean’s situation would ever manage to escape, even if all the evidence made it pretty obvious that he did. His smile grew, and little by little the cold around him thwarted.

“My Boss came one day and took me away. He said he paid my family for the privilege. He told me to pick a name. My birthday became the day I met him. He said I was seven years old. We left France together, and it was the happiest time of my life.”

“Your… boss?” Despite Jean’s obvious delight, I felt not at all reassured that things had indeed ended well. My instincts told me something horrible was still to come.

“Yeah, that’s what I call him. I don’t think he had a name. He gave me the love and attention that I never got from my family.” Jean’s smile became so wide it was quite intimidating. Together with my gut feeling that something even more disturbing awaited just around the corner, the whole scene became kind of scary. “The first thing he did when he rescued me was teach me how to fuck. He couldn’t wait. We did it in his car, still parked in front of the farm, and it was awesome!” Jean winked. I felt like vomiting. My instincts were right after all. “I couldn’t get enough dicks in my ass, so when we came to the UK he invited all his friends to fuck me too, and when that wasn’t enough, he started getting money from strangers to have their way with me. It really was the best part of my life.”

“Ok…” Jean looked genuinely happy. He was not faking his enthusiasm for all the underage sex he had with fully-grown men. He was just a little kid when it all started. I felt really sick. This… boss had somehow convinced Jean that having sex at the age of seven was a good thing, and convinced him it was something he liked. In a way, it showed how horrible Jean’s life with his family had been if it made him think that living with this boss could have done him any good. Jean could not understand how wrong it was that a grown-up (many grown-ups, in fact. That thought made my stomach churn in the most unpleasant way) had taken advantage of him. It was so wrong, so disturbing… and yet he was happy. Really happy.

“The Boss was the best family I had. He taught me so much, and not just about sex. Like, I learned to speak and understand a language properly, learned to walk and run properly, learned there was more to food than just stale bread and apple pies…” Jean stopped suddenly, his eyes glazing over. “Apple pies. Grandma made them. She was nice sometimes. She gave me pies when nobody was looking. I wonder if she actually liked me…” Jean was silent for a very long time. Hannah and I watched him intensely, wondering what was going on. A solitary tear ran down Jean’s cheek and fell on the back of his hand. “Anyway…” He shook his head and swiped his eyes with his arms. He smiled again, like nothing had happened. “That’s why you shouldn’t waste your energy thinking about your parents. Blood families can be crap; they can hurt us in many ways. Sharing genetic material doesn’t prevent anyone from doing horrible things to others. It’s perfectly fine for us to find happiness, love, and acceptance away from them. Like I did, and like how you have a chance to do now.” Jean looked at me for no more than a couple of seconds before getting off the bed. He seemed suddenly in a hurry. “Thanks for listening to me, Oscar. I’m sure you have lots of things to think about, so I’ll leave you to it. Bye.” He rushed out of room without sparing Hannah or me a second glance.

“I guess that’s it, then.” Hannah sighed. “I hope you do feel better after all this.”

“I… I…” I really wanted to say that I was going to feel better, but my mind was too busy picturing seven-year-old Jean having sex with a group of big hairy men for me to feel anything but nauseous.

“Look, don’t think too much about the sex stuff or it’s going to eat your brain.” Hannah tried to sound annoyed, but there was a softer edge to her tone. “He lived with this boss for about four years. Then Mr Smith found him, and the boss was arrested for sexually abusing a minor and forcing Jean into prostitution. Jean was sent to live with Mr Smith, but he wasn’t happy about it. He ran away many times so he could keep having sex, and that’s when we met.”

“Jean didn’t like that the guy was arrested?”

“Of course not. He doesn’t forgive Mr Smith for taking away his happy family, but he’s given up fighting him for the time being.” Hannah adopted a more business-like tone, but her lips curved upwards just slightly. “Meanwhile, Mr Smith is trying to show Jean what a proper loving family is like, but I think he’s wasting his energy. He can’t give Jean what he wants…”

“I think I really need some time to process everything. This is…”

“Fucked up? Hell yeah. It took me a while to stop being horrified by it too, and back then I was a junkie who used to try absolutely anything to get high, so that was quite a feat. Like I said, just stop thinking about all the sex stuff and remember how horrible Jean’s family was. We don’t even know why they were like that, and as you pointed out, it doesn’t make sense to blame Jean for his mother’s death. So, really, they were just horrible, cruel people. Families can suck too, you’re not alone.”

“Thanks, Hannah. I’ll probably feel better once I actually manage to do as you said…”

“No problems. If your party is still going on, this might be your chance to get distracted for the time being. You know where to find me if you want to talk.” Hannah nodded to me and left the room as well. I stayed there for another minute or so, trying to sort my head out before returning to my friends. In the end, though, I decided to do as Hannah suggested, and hope that being around other people would do a better job of distracting me than sitting alone with my thoughts.

(...)

The house was bustling with movement. It was a special day, after all. The children were being kept entertained by their grandmother away from the main house. The doctor was about to arrive. My dear wife lay in bed, complaining of contraction pains every ten minutes or so. But she already knew what to expect. The same thing had happened five times already. One of them even resulted in twins.

“The doctor will be here soon, my love,” I told her, pressing her hand into mine. She was still beautiful, even after giving me six children and being about to birth a seventh. Her long strands of blond hair shone in the sunlight like they were themselves made of sunrays.

“I had a dream last night,” she said. Ah, how heavenly her voice sounded! “An angel told me this child is very special and we should love him very much. He’s a blessing to us.”

“Of course we’ll love him, dear! Our family is perfect!” I kissed her. She started to cry. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes. I’m just really happy! God has blessed our family! He heard our prayers!”

My wife and I rejoiced together until the doctor arrived. He was new to the village, but seemed like a good man. His handshake was firm and trustworthy. I could always guess a man’s personality through his handshake. I was never wrong.

“My name is Ankou, I will be helping your wife deliver your son safely.” The man had a charming smile. He looked young and healthy, though strangely for one of his profession, he wore only black clothes. It was probably a new trend amongst doctors. Nothing strange about that. “Let me see the mother.”

“This way, please.” I had never noticed how the plants that littered the corridor leading to the bedroom had become so dry and lifeless. I should ask my children to water them more frequently.

“Everything seems fine. The birth is going according to plan.” The doctor smiled pleasantly, just as my wife screamed in pain. The contractions were getting more frequent. Any time now our new baby would be resting in my arms. “Please be patient. The baby is not quite ready yet.”

Despite the doctor’s assurance that everything was going well, the hours passed with no sign of the baby. The sun disappeared in the horizon and our room became uncharacteristically cold. My wife was getting tired. The children were restless.

“Why is it taking so much time? It’s the first time I’ve had to wait so long!” my wife complained. “Our baby is supposed to be a blessing! Why is he causing me so much suffering?”

“Oh, a blessing, you say?” The doctor looked at my wife. “May I ask, how do you know that?”

“An angel told me in my dream! My baby is special and we will love him very much!” My wife’s face glowed despite her pain and exhaustion. Love our baby, indeed. I could not wait to see his face and hold him in my arms.

“Oh, I see.” The doctor grinned. I am sure it was a happy grin, but the light effect in the room made his face look rather sinister. “Dreams can be very powerful indeed. Some even believe they can tell us things we would otherwise never be able to know. That said…” My wife screamed again. It pained me to see her suffering so much. “We must be really careful. Dreams can be deceiving, after all…”

“What do you mean?”

“I have been examining your child since I arrived here, and I am becoming convinced that he is definitely far from a blessing.”

“What do you mean?” My wife echoed my question. We panicked, but the doctor kept smiling. “He’s very reluctant to come out. The mother has been ready for hours, but he insists on staying inside of her. Is he afraid? Or is he waiting until you are too tired to do your job properly?”

“Babies don’t have that kind of awareness!” The idea that a baby used this kind of criteria to decide when to be born was preposterous, but the doctor laughed at my protest.

“Some children are just special that way. I am experienced enough in my profession to recognise the signs.” My wife screamed again. The doctor looked firmly at me, and for a moment I saw nothing but his shiny golden eyes. “Your baby bears the Devil’s curse. He will bring nothing but sorrow and pain to you. It is the Devil’s wish, and so I must see that his destiny is fulfilled.”

“What are you talking about?” my wife shouted. The doctor turned to her.

“You are getting tired, are you not? Don’t you wish you could finally rest in peace?”

“Yes. I want to rest.”

While the doctor and my wife spoke, I realised I could barely feel my body. I was not in charge anymore. But, in a way, it did not matter much, because I did not belong in that scene. I had a vague sense of being a teenager somewhere else. This was not who I was. I was just borrowing a stranger’s body, a body that for some reason I was suddenly no longer able to control. Other kinds of thoughts invaded my mind. They did not belong to me, or to the body I was borrowing, but they entrenched themselves so deeply I began to believe in them.

“So it has come to this,” I said, pressing my wife’s sweaty and cold hands against mine. “This child is the ruin of us all.”

“Indeed, he is.” The doctor looked at both of us. I could not take my eyes away from him. “It won’t be long now…”My wife let out her loudest scream yet. “The time has come. You have to push now; the baby is ready.” She tried to do as she was told, but she was too tired. “Come on, push. I can see his head!” It was no use. My wife tried her best, but the baby did not come. “See? If the child had come out earlier, this would not have happened. Your wife would be safe. As it is…”

“What?”

“As it is, she has no strength left.” The doctor’s tone was sombre. My wife kept screaming, but even those screams were turning lifeless. I stared at the doctor and nothing else. “And I do not possess the tools to remove the baby in any other way. I am sorry to say that one of them will not leave this room alive.”

This was supposed to make me feel terrible. Either my beloved wife or my unborn son were going to die soon. But I felt calm. Too calm, in fact. The doctor’s eyes were beautiful. New thoughts crept up in my mind. Somehow I knew they did not make sense. But somehow I knew I was in a dream too, so it did not matter. The thoughts spoke the truth, nonetheless, so I said them out loud.

“This baby brings death to the family. He is a curse, not a blessing.”

“Well said, well said.” My wife tried to scream again, but it died in her throat. She was weak. “One last push, and I promise it will be over.” On the doctor’s orders, my wife gathered all the strength she had left. The baby finally came out in a pool of blood. He did not cry. My wife’s eyes closed permanently just as the baby was placed in her arms.

“My son…”

“It is his fault your wife is dead. The dream she had was the Devil giving you false hope. This is more than enough proof that this child is his doing as well. The Devil sends you gifts and greetings. My work here is done.”

I walked out of the room to the barn. My cursed son, already grown into a child, awaited his food. I knew very well how absurd it was to feed a growing child with just a few pieces of stale bread shoved inside a dirty sack. I was fully aware that the person I had become was not the real me. But this was a dream, and the dream made me do things in complete disregard of my real thoughts.

I never got to the barn. A man came up to me and called my attention away from the child.

“I know of the child you keep in secret,” he announced. He looked very familiar, but I could not place from where I knew him. Dark clothes, pleasant smile. He was definitely familiar. “And it is my wish to have him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Everyone in the village knew our child had died with his mother. We buried them both together. Only our family knew the truth.

“Your youngest son, the cursed one. You dare not approach him for fear of what he can do. He scares you so much you will not even try to kill him. That is the child I am talking about.” The man had golden eyes. They were beautiful.

“What about him?”

“I want him. I am willing to give enough money for you and your family to move to the other side of the country in exchange for the boy. It is your chance to run away from all your demons once and for all.”

“Why are you so interested in him?”

“I need him. His curse is something I can make very good use of. I know exactly how to deal with people like him.” The man had a pleasant smile. It was very convincing. I saw no reason to reject his proposal.

“Show me the money, and the boy is yours. Take him away from here, and there’s no need to tell us what you do to him.” It should not feel this good to sell my own son to a stranger. But he was not really my son. Nothing here was real. I was just doing what the dream told me to do.

“Then so be it.” We shook hands. His handshake was firm and trustworthy.

I walked towards the barn again. Only, the barn was no longer there. It had been replaced by a two-story house at the top of a small hill. Inside, there was a trail of blood on the white carpet coming from the second floor. The trail led to my office.

My office? No, it was not me who had an office in that house…

Oscar lay on the floor covered in glass shards. His face was bloody. Unrecognisable. No longer my son.

My son? No, Oscar was not ‘my son’. I should not think of him… of me as such.

He dared to still be alive. Another kick to his abdomen, and another, and another… Oscar was already too weak to beg me to stop.

His body, his eyes, his thoughts… I could not stop them. I could not fight them.

“Die, Oscar,” I said, and smirked as the child (bloodied, defenceless) whimpered under me.

And I kicked him. And the feeling of bones cracking and blood pouring out was finally enough to jolt me awake.