Chapter Thirty Seven: Bring Him Home
-* Erik, somehow, heard my screams and came running through the door; he fell down to his knees with me and yanked my face away from the paper. I grasped onto him and sobbed uncontrollably into his shoulder; he says I whispered "my baby" over and over.
Then, he saw the newspaper that caused my breakdown.
"No.." he whispered lifting it from my ground and gently shaking his head. "No...no...not my son..." he added, but, this time his whispers where hinted with anger. He stood now, but I remained on the floor, in fetal position, crying my eyes out. There was the ripping of paper and I saw, through muddled vision, paper shreds rain over me; Erik turned away and began taking his anger out on the wall. Punching and kicking it viciously.
I paused my weeping and shakily stood, stumbling over to Erik, who caught me without a second thought. His knuckles bled, but, I knew, by the look in his eyes that his blood would not be the only one spilt in the next few days.
-* The very next day Erik and I were inquiring about it; Erik said it was a gypsy camp that had our son, he said he even knew which one it was. "How do you know this?" I asked, clinging to his arm; he sighed.
"Because, I recognized that cage." He whispered, I grasped his hand tightly.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked quickly; he sighed.
"It means, that your fiancé was stuck in the same situation as our son" he hissed impatiently; he grasped my hand with terrible strength and dragged me to the newspaper shop to interview the person who took the picture of our son.
-* Erik was a giant ball of anger when we arrived, his grip was so tight I feared he might break my bones! He yelled at the receptionist who told us who took the picture. "Monsieur John B-Banks, monsieur" the receptionist said in a shaking voice; I mouthed 'thank you' as Erik tore me away from the man.
Erik slammed his hands down on John Banks's desk; silencing the entire room, but, he didn't mind, his eyes were too full of rage to see it. "Where in the hell is my son?" Erik growled.
"E-Excuse me?" John asked in a weak tone.
"My son" Erik hissed "where is he?" Erik demanded, grasping the man by the cuff of his shirt and holding him up to his face. John gave a nervous chuckle.
"U-Um, monsieur, it would be...j-just a little more helpful if I uh...knew what you were talking about" John answered; Erik threw John back into his chair so hard John flipped over it!
"My son" Erik enunciated. "The child you took a picture of, the one at the gypsy camp" Erik finished; the man's face fell.
"And...you two are his parents" he said in understanding, nodding. "He told me much of you two, mostly of how you loved each other even though...even though and, I quote 'my father's not the most perfect man, or the most handsome, but, mummy thinks so; mummy kissed him so deeply even when his biggest flaws were revealed. She loves him. A-And she loves me too, I just...I just want my mummy.'" John said, tears welled in my eyes and wrapped myself around Erik's arm; Erik sighed.
"I didn't come to ask what he said, I want to know where he is so we can take him home." Said he, calming from his anger and kissing the top of my head; he whispered calming words to me and hugged me, promising me it would be alright. Erik pressed me against his chest and laid his cheek upon the top of my head; now I spoke to this John man.
"Please, monsieur, please help us. He's our only son" I whispered, tears streaming down my cheeks; Erik wiped them away and kissed me. John sighed and nodded.
"Of course, who am I to deny two loving, wonderful parents?" Said he, I grasped Erik's wrists and John grasped a small, red notebook and flipped through a few pages; giving a cry of discovery and pointing to a few words. "They were in L'Oudon and are moving to Mezidon-Canon" John replied; I looked hopelessly up to Erik.
"That's so far away from here!" I cried, Erik nodded.
"I know, my angel" said he, he then turned to John and thanked him, holding me and hurrying out of the newspaper shop; he helped me into a carriage and jumped in afterwards. "Ready for a long drive, angel?" Asked he, I only grunted; he grinned and pulled me into his lap, sighing.
-* Three hours. Three hours we sat in that carriage; I fell asleep on Erik and drooled on his suit! But, he didn't mind; he said he thought it was cute.
When we stepped out of the carriage I saw tents, different multicoloured tents! It was like a rainbow vomited. Farm animals roamed the land freely and strange, mocha skinned people stood in small huddles, telling jokes, stories, speaking casually, or speaking of Erik and I. Erik held tight to me and warned me. "Do not dare wander off, these people will take advantage of you at a moment's notice, stay close to me" said he.
"That won't be a problem" I retorted, Erik smiled down to me quickly and then back up to the path before us. Upon noticing us the gypsies began whispering to one another and giving us hateful glances; I held even tighter to Erik.
-* The tents were formed in a large circle with one giant stage in the midst of it, and, behind that was a fire hole with logs surrounding that. Erik took me straight to a red tent to the left of the fire hole, to a dark red tent labeled 'The Living Corpse'. I paused and Erik attempted to pull me inside. "What's wrong, love?" Asked he.
"What is this place?" I asked in disbelief and horror. He sighed.
"Where I lived for most of my pre-teenage years; come, our son is in here." Said he, grasping my hand and shooting a glare to all the gypsies who dared come near. I stepped softly inside only to hear a grown man's yelling and a boy's screams mixed with the crack of a whip. I grasped Erik's arm, he only gritted his teeth, but continued walking forwards with me.
"Oh my god..." I whispered as my hand flew to my mouth when I saw a sight that cannot be unseen. It was my son, my son was bent down, on his hands and knees, stripped naked before a large, hideous, man who reeked of spirits; tears were streaming down little Pierre's face, and he whispered my name.
"Mummy can't help you now!" The man cried, laughing and hitting my son harder; I felt something well up inside of me, call it courage, call it anger. But I like to think of it as motherly instincts.
I ran forwards, away from Erik's protection, and ripped my arm back, forcing all of my strength into a single fist and connecting it with the man's face; I even felt a few of his bones crack! The man fell backwards and Pierre flopped to the ground; I fell with the man and continuously wailed on his face, punching, clawing, biting and kicking on anything I could that would put the man through heavy amounts of pain. The man grasped me and threw me to the ground, rolling onto me and grinning; when he did this I kicked his manhood so hard I bet he could've tasted my heel! "That's my son, you bastard" I growled, before spotting a knife laying happily on a small table; I yanked this to my side and wrapped both of my hands around the handle, thrusting it into his enormous gut so many times I lost count! Next, I sliced and diced at his neck, sinking the knife into the flab of his chin and through his head.
A smooth, dark red liquid was thrown all over my nice dress as I stabbed the man. He choked and gagged and squirmed beneath me; but I would not let him go. I stood and sliced his manhood off, taking it up and shoving it so far down his mouth I couldn't see it anymore! I paused for a moment and the man groaned, so, I continued diving the knife into his blubberish body; then, I threw the knife behind me and wrapped my small hands around his throat. A few times my hands slipped into the cuts I had previously made, but I drew them out and stood, stomping down on his neck with my foot.
It seemed I expanded all of the anger and hatred the world had to offer upon that man, and yet, to this day, I have no regrets.
Erik rushed over to me and pulled me away from the corpse; he held my shoulders. "He's dead, angel, he's dead; he won't touch Pierre anymore." He assured, whilst I had been playing momma lion, Erik retrieved our son and clothed him, holding him and turning his face away from the carnage which I forced upon his kidnapper.
I nodded and turned away from Erik, to Pierre and fell to my knees, squishing his body to mine. "I love you, Pierre, I love you so much, don't you dare, ever do that again!" I cried, kissing his cheeks.
"I won't, mummy" Pierre said, hugging me with trembling arms.
-* I was covered, from head to foot, in blood or blood splatter. It clumped in my hair, stained my face and arms and hands, soiled my clothing, and I tasted it's iron tang upon my tongue. As we walked back to the carriage, the gypsies stayed a good distance away from us, holding their noses in disgust.
Erik carried Pierre and I walked beside my men. "Pierre?" Erik asked.
"Yes, father?" Asked he, glancing up to him.
"Why did you ask for your mother and not I?"
"Oh, that's easy, father. Because I knew she would do that" Pierre answered, grinning to me. I smiled and kissed his little cheek, leaving a blood stained kiss which looked everything like lipstick.
(A/N)
Sorry if this chapter was a bit crappy, I'm exhausted and I wanted to get another one out; since it's been a while since I've touched Persephone's Angel. What, four days now? I dunno. Rehearsal is killing me. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed Persephone going berserk :)
(For those who are wondering, I'm going to explain who 'the man' raping Pierre was in the next chapter :) for those of you who've read the Kay, you have an advantage! Haha) Au Revoir, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter in my sleep-deprived state!