The small unwanted thing crawled and staggered around in the room, around her, constantly. It was unnecessary to send it away. It did not understand anything which was said to it. Maybe the disfigurement did not stop at the stomach-turning looks of the boy, which was at least easy to cover by that hap-hazardly sewn mask. The bigger problems lay beneath the outside deformity.
Geneviéve could not figure out why the thing did not react to her orders. Maybe because it was deaf or simply, an idiot. All he was doing all day was mindlessly, totally absently staring from under the mask with his ugly yellow eyes, and following her like an annoying small shadow. She felt she had two pets: Bisous, the cute lap dog she would pet endlessly, and that masked corpse baby she often only dared to examine from the corner of her eyes.
She wondered if she did something wrong. It did not come to her mind often, as she, to be honest, liked to pity herself rather than admitting she had done something wrong, blmaing everyone else than herself for her current situation. She knew that she should have paid more attention to the… child, or what. She literally only provided the bare necessities for it. Feeding, cleaning and keeping it warm by putting clothes on it. The clothes, though weren't the ones she once bought in a sudden shopping fit at an expensive clothes shop in Paris when she visited the capital city with her husband once, during the beginning of her pregnancy. Oh how Maurice laughed at her when he saw she bought clothes that would even fit a 2 year- old… but those expensive clothes were too beautiful for a small demon like him. He would instantly throw up on them or had a runny nose on them, making them a sticky mess, just as he did with that simple white linen shirt she put on him. She had to wash the masks regularly, it happened she had to change the masks on him in every three hours as he had a runny nose, without even having one. Also, he was drooling constantly, maybe because of the lip deformity it shall she bother to dress that mess? That mindless little thing?
She was sure it wasn't developing normally, as she heard the fact any two year old would start to at least say some simple words. He did not. He was merely pointing at things and whimpering. She maybe should have bothered to teach him to talk, but she felt it was useless. If he does not understand what she says, how could he learn anything? He will just depend on her in all his miserable existence, during which she will constantly have to clean him and feed him, even if he will have the misfortune to grow up. She at least hoped she won't live long enough to see this horrid thing as an adult. All of the situation seemed to be so stressful, she felt so helpless…
She had the urge to cry yet again. How this little monster is making her a nervous wreck, slowly, is rather devastating. She used to be a happy, strong and confident woman before the skull head was born. And since that, and the death of the two most impostant people in her life: her husband and her beautiful newborn girl, which both were caused by this small monster's arrival, she would not stop crying and feeling depressed all day. It was more than two years ago…
When will it stop?
No, she won't ask the little monster when he will die finally. No need to, he won't react. He never does. He does not understand what a burden he is.
She forcefully wished to interrupt her thoughts which will most likely send her to sobs shortly, so she just walked to her old piano. It was a long time ago she played it, as she did not feel like it. But now she simply needed something to occupy her mind with. She liked music. She used to like it, at least. Caressing the keys, she started hitting a few notes and accords on the instrument, and finally, without thinking, she played some of the pieces she learned in her childhood. How Papa and Mama were proud of her when she showed a piece that was finally learned…
Playing was interrupted by a strange noise. Partly it was the usual wheezing sound of her monstrous offspring, as his nose was stuffed yet again. She tried not to pay attention to it and enjoy the music without distraction, but there was another noise… the boy was hitting the wooden floor to rhythm.
Geneviéve had to turn around to realize the boy was hitting to the perfect rhythm of the piece. He seemed to giggle while it and when Geneviéve stopped, so did he. The mother was speechless for a time, examining the thing with a growing interest, once in their lives together. She started playing different rhythm patterns, out of curiousy, and the boy followed after listening, imitating them perfectly.
- Can you hear? - Geneviéve asked, directly from her son, the first time in maybe days. She did not really address him before… maybe she could try?
She sat down in front of the small corpse, on the floor and started talking to him… rather officially, but at least, it was something.
- You seem to like music. I never thought you could hear it. Do you enjoy it…? Oh… maybe will you be able to talk, mindless little creature… all right… say… say… Mama…?