Writer In Florence Ela Vasilescu

Day 267 – Childless mother (part II)


He was in his twenties, tall and very ugly. Clara met him at a party one night, when she was seventeen. His dance moves were impressive and his dress code almost conquered her, except she couldn’t get passed his looks. She was, like any teenager, very interested to look good next to handsome guys and she was indeed beautiful. Dark eyes, blonde hair, tall and thin, she was every guy’s dream; she couldn’t let just any ugly dude be called her boyfriend. But he had an advantage others didn’t. He was her ex’s best friend and she needed revenge.

The night of the party, Clara showed him her best moves. She moved her body very close to his, instigating his male senses, offering herself as a prey. They had their first kiss after the party, back in a filthy alley after two bottles of vodka. That’s how much alcohol she needed to kiss him. Six month later, they were still together. She did get her revenge, but somehow she got stuck with him. He made her feel special. Suddenly she realized that her self esteem issues were gone. Yes, people looked at her funny when walking downtown, holding hands with this ugly guy, but that was just what she needed to feel better about herself, to show the world how amazing she was. It wasn’t going to be forever. Besides, his drinking problems were so severe that she could have easily left him anytime, blaming his sleepless nights and endless fights on the streets. One of those days, she would stop drinking too and end that vicious circle. Until then, she could have some fun with him, her new best friend, as she thought.


Looking at the white ceiling in his room, Clara felt as if something was wrong. She felt totally safe, in his house, waiting for his parents to come home from work. It was just a regular evening, listening to music and talking about last night’s drinking adventure. Still, the knot forming in her stomach was getting tighter and tighter.

“I think I should go home. I’m not feeling very well.

What? No, no! Stay a little longer. I have a surprise for you.”

Wrapping his arms around her waist, kissing her forehead and then letting his lips fall on hers, made her even more suspicious.

“No, I really think I should go. It would make my mom happy if I am not late for dinner for a change. Besides, I told you, I’m not feeling all that well.”

His smile shifted into a grin and with a soft, terrifying voice, he grabbed her hands and whispered into her ear:

“I don’t think you understand. It’s not a request, it’s a command. You are staying here with me.

Hey! Let me go! Your parents should be home any minute now. Let me go I said!

That’s the thing baby, they’re not coming home tonight, just like you’re not going to go home to your mommy tonight. I’m going to show you a good time. Stop fighting. Enjoy the ride!”

She never saw the first blow coming. The fogginess in her eyes, the numbness in her feet, the wrinkles on her skin at his every monstrous touch were merely the beginning of the night. She kept replaying the last six months in her head. They have always been everything except lovers. She wasn’t ready for that and he gave her no reason not to trust him. The second blow threw her on the bed and while her legs were being forced to spread, a soft moan came out of her throat.

“See baby; I told you you will have some fun. Just let me show you what pleasure means.”

She couldn’t move, nor speak, nor cry, but she could watch. She could see him climbing on top of her and forcing himself on her. She could see hate in his eyes and a wide grin on his face while looking down, admiring his moves. She could hear her head banging rhythmically on the wall and taste the blood that poured out of her nose. She could see their first kiss: soft, moist, unpleasant, tasting like alcohol. She could see herself, drowning in false hope that maybe this was just a bad dream. After what seemed like hours, he carried her bloody body into the bathroom and threw her into the bathtub.

“Now wash yourself whore! I don’t want you giving me any heirs! And wash the bathtub when you are done! God damn virgins, with their God damn blood!”

The hot water was rinsing her senses and cuddled her skin. This was to be the last night they would drink together, laugh together, be together. This was to be the night when she would break the vicious circle.

About the author

Ela Vasilescu

I’m a writer based in Florence, Italy.

Human nature inspires me, different cultures, traditions, folk stories and the differences which make us unique. Documenting stories is a privilege, a glimpse into humanity, an unforgettable experience, one which I embrace and honour every day.

If you have a story twitching in the back of your pocket, one that is ready to be told, shared and heard, chances are I will be ready to listen; so don’t hesitate to send me an email.

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By Ela Vasilescu
Writer In Florence Ela Vasilescu