Writer In Florence Ela Vasilescu

Day 270 – Childless mother (part V)


That bitch! He said he loved her. Didn’t she know that, didn’t he prove himself to her enough? That bitch! She acted like he raped her or worse. He just gave her exactly what she wanted from him. She asked for it, she craved it, she was practically begging him to do it. And then pretending like she was sick. Such a waste of time and energy. All virgins were the same. Sweet, naive, rubbing their bodies against him like he was some sort of object with no feeling nor desires, like he was only their slave. What did they expect? That bitch!

He paced the room nervously, resisting not to put his fist through the wall. She was the only one that got away and ran home before he had a chance to convince her that she won’t be alive much longer if she would even mumble a word about what happened. He had managed to keep all the other ones quiet for many years now. It had become a ritual. You see the girl, you observe her, you give her what she needs, make her trust you and then…well, then came the fun part for him. Virgins were his favorite prey. The smell of the fresh blood spreading around his pelvic area, the terror in their eyes, the constant fighting that aroused him even more; they were all worth the trouble of wasting several months to get to know them, to listen and comfort them. But she wasn’t like the others. She was special. Her name was like the sound of a thousand crystals in his ears. He loved that sound: Clara! Clara! But she was gone now; she ran out of the bathroom, half naked and burst out the door before he got a chance to understand what was happening. He followed her down the stairs, into the street, screaming her name over and over again, but she disappeared into a cab and away into the night.

“The bitch didn’t even have her shoes on…” he mumbled while taking a spoon full of the mashed potatoes his mother placed in front of him.

What did you say dear? his mother asked.

Nothing… I was just reminding myself what I have to do today.

Where is Clara? I was expecting to see her today. You got yourself a good one this time, right? No more whores in the middle of the night, screaming for their mommies from your room. Who screams after their mother when they have sex?


I know…you don’t like talking about these things with me, but you are a man and as long as you can think you can bring women to have sex with when I am home, then I am allowed to at least observe that out loud from time to time.


So? Where is beautiful Clara today? Has she been here last night?

No! I mean yes…she was, but didn’t stay long, she didn’t feel very well.

Well, at least she didn’t spend the night here with us gone. I wouldn’t want you to force her to do anything, you know?

Yeah, yeah, I get it. You like my girlfriend. Can I finish my meal quietly now?

I don’t understand you. Really! It’s like you can’t process a normal relationship. The sweet ones never stick around. Is there something more that you’re not telling me?

Please, mom! Shut up! There is nothing wrong! Clara was here and she went home early. We’ll see each other later and that’s the end of the story. For God’s sake I am a grown man! Let me eat my food!

A grown man wouldn’t live with his parents at this age…” she said softly and turned her gaze away from him.



He had to find her and talk to her. He had to make her keep the secret. But if she had got home to her mother and told her… that controlling bitch will be all over his case. He couldn’t allow that to happen.

Walking slowly against the summer breeze, he saw her in the usual corner. He knew she would be there. That was the only place where she went to get away from it all, to think, to understand, to cry, to be unseen. That was her special place and he knew it to well. She dragged him there, between the two willows, alongside the river too many times. He stopped for a second trying to guess her expression from behind. She must be scared and vulnerable. His remorse turned into furry when he realized she was expecting him. Was she trying to challenge him? That bitch! In no more than two seconds, his hands were around her neck, his eyes piercing hers, when… he fell helplessly onto the fresh grass, grabbing his knees, crying like a baby. Her big, grey eyes, petrified him and showed him a piece of his own soul. He was a monster. She didn’t cry, nor scream, nor run. She stayed there, placing her arms around him, kissing his forehead and gently whispering into his ear:

“I will be here with you for as long as you need me to. Then I am going to walk away and we will be no more than just strangers. This is no longer my place, but yours to come and remember me by, to remember us by. I forgive you.”


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