The Crying Baby

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

It is a simple demonstration to protest..., however,it turns out to be shocking...

The Crying Baby(1)

 

  He banged the door behind him and locked it. . " Son of a bitch!" he mumbled as he pulled up his trousers. He then turned around and shouted," Shut up, you bitch!"

Several people were sitting in his office  when he arrived. They stood up and said hello. He walked straight through without answering. He was still somewhat confused. " Bastard!" he said to himself. " She looked much older!"

"Sir, " said his secretary coming in and closing the door behind him "they have brought twenty more."

He sniffed and then cleaned his nose with his thumb and forefinger, then pushed the window open and spat out. " Keep them in the hole until I tell you!" he mumbled to the  secretary .He walked to  his desk and sat down. " How old?" he asked.

" I don't know, sir," the secretary said quietly ." They are of different ages."

He scratched his left cheek with his left hand and  rubbed  his chin  with his right hand. " Where," he then asked," Where did they get them?"

" Same place, sir," he said. " In the demonstrations…"

He sniffed . Then he picked his nose for a while . "That son of a bitch  was just a kid, " he said softly. “She kept screaming and covering her face!" He scratched his hips. "She made me sick!" He paused for a while  and then added, " I thought you said she was a teacher ?”

" Yes, sir," the secretary answered, " they are  all teachers." He paused and then added, " I picked that one…because you like the younger ones…"

He got up, scratched his belly and farted. " That piece of shit was too young. She kept screaming and turning around." he said. " I got a headache. I almost strangled the bitch!" He burped and took his turban off the desk and placed it carefully  on his head. " What's for lunch?" he then asked.

" I  told them to bring you chicken Kabab," the secretary answered.

"O.K.", he mumbled. "Where are the others?" he asked after a minute.

" In  the basement, " the secretary said. " Number five," he added.

" How many?"

" Five sir," said the secretary. " I picked six of the best looking ones for you, sir. Five  left."

There was a long pause. " Take that bitch out of my bedroom before she messes everything!" he ordered . " Change the sheets too."

" Yes, sir," said the secretary as he stood up." He limped away gently.

The man scratched his big belly and rubbed his penis. He went to the window and looked out. A large group of people were sitting on the ground in the yard bellow. Two of his guardsmen were walking back and forth. Their bayonets shone under the sun. He  bent down, unlocked the lowest  drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle. He took a few sips  and burped. " What a fuck!?" he said “ I couldn’t even see the bitch’s face!” He  went to the door and opened it. His secretary's office  was empty. The half-crippled man was apparently smart enough to get rid of all the people who had come to see him . He was  obviously quite familiar with his boss's  moods.

He went through the secretary's office and opened the outside door. Two people were holding a woman by the arms, carrying her away. She stopped sobbing and froze with her mouth open as soon as she saw him. He came back , bangedthe door and spat on the floor. “Bitch!” he mumbled to himself. He then walked to the secretary's desk. There was a long list of  names. They were all women but no sign of their ages. " Next bunch," he thought, " must write their ages!" He heard a noise and turned . The office door was half open. He could see the face of his half-crippled secretary.

“Should I get you another one?" he asked.

He grabbed his own penis and rubbed it a few times. " How old?"

-About thirty, sir.

He squeezed  his nose with two fingers and threw the liquid away, and then looked at his wrist. His gold watch was not there. He shrugged his shoulders. " I must have dropped it when I was trying to fuck that piece of shit!” he thought.  "It must be in the nap room."  He then turned to the secretary. " How much time before the noon-prayer?" he asked.

The secretary paused a second before he looked at his watch." About an hour , sir, " he said. " You have enough time!"

He moved his fat neck  to the right and left a few times and took off his turban.  " O.K. "he said, "get her." He  then moved slowly towards the door. "I'll come after I take a piss,"  he said. He took a few steps and turned around. " Hey," he said," ask her about her age before you bring her." He took two more steps and turned around once more. " I don’t want another  crying baby, understand!?"

" Yes , sir , "said the secretary limping away. " No crying-baby."

The big man bent his hips  backwards , farted a few times and walked slowly towards the  wash-room.

 

The Crying Baby(2)

 

.

The door was opened and several more women were pushed in.

Some of their faces were pale and some others red with anger. Two or three were  sobbing.

“Hi,” then said someone in her ear. It was aunt Targol. ?She was one of her mother’s colleagues and a close friend. She was  the one who had come  to pick them up that morning to go to the demonstrations. She had said that they had a right  to protest because their votes in the election had not been counted. She also said that teachers deserved a lot more. “ They should not be so poor and so miserable!” she had said. “ We have a right to protest!” When they were surrounded and were driven into vans by “ the guards” , she had been thrown over her mother and her aunt; and later she had been lost in the crowd in that dark, damp basement. “ Your mother will be fine,” she whispered into her ears. “ Soon they will find out who your dad is and let us go. Don’t worry, everything is going to be all right!”

She shuddered with fear. Targol had said the same thing  just before they had been caught and brought there. Now mother was holding her right arm with her left and occasionally drying the tears which were dripping off her chin. She looked pale and very skinny as if she had lost twenty pounds in a few minutes. “ He will …kill us…” she said between her sobs  and repeated it several times.

“Who?” asked Aunt Targol gently.

“ Him…” said her mother. “her father,” she continued, moving her left hand forefinger toward the young girl. 

“Why!?” asked Targol surprised.

“ He has said many many times…” continued mother, “ He said he would rather see us dead than see us among the demonstrators in the street. And now … we are here…”

Everybody was quiet for some time . Many of the people around were now looking at the three women.

“Why…?” asked Targol after a while , and then, as if she already knew the answer, continued, “ Don’t worry! He will never know. They will release us before he comes back home for dinner!”

Now mother was crying more loudly.  “ He…” she said in between her sobs, “He works here… in this building!" she said. “I am sure he will see us …before they let us go.”

The place was dead quiet now. Almost everybody was looking at them. A few very painful minutes passed before someone moved. It was a middle-aged  woman. “ Here,” she said when she got closer to mother. “Put these on,” she said offering mother her scarf and her eyeglasses. “ No one will recognize you if you put these on. You don’t need to tell them your real name either,” she continued.

Mother was crying more loudly now. “ I am not afraid for me,” she finally said. “ I am afraid for her!” pointing to the young girl.   ” She looks older…but she is only twelve!” she stopped and then  continued after some sobs,“ He will kill her!”

The middle-aged woman turned around and when she saw the young girl, offered her the scarf and eyeglasses. The girl did not move. The middle-aged woman gently put the glasses and her colorful scarf on her and looked at her with satisfaction. “There…!” she said after a few seconds. “ No one will ever recognize you now!”

“ I… I can’t see,” the young girl said shaking her head.

“ You don’t need to see,” the middle-aged woman said. “ All you have to do is to act like you can see until they let you go. That’s all!” Then as if she had forgotten something quickly added,” One more thing. If they ask you your name, say something like Fatima, Marry, or another religious name, O.K.?”

The girl shook her head confused. Now a few other women were offering their scarfs, glasses and other things to her mother. Then the place grew quiet again. It became as calm as a graveyard.

A few minutes later an ugly, short, half-crippled man limped in followed by two guards-men. Mother who looked somewhat different now was still holding her arm , rubbing it to reduce the pain. She looked at him with fear but was quickly relieved. The half-crippled man did not seem to recognize her. He  looked around for a few minutes. “ We’ve got to ask you some questions,” he said loudly and then walked around  and picked out six of the prisoners. Mother let out a scream,  and fell on the floor when she received a  quick kick in the chest. Her young daughter  was  among the chosen ones for interrogation. The half-crippled man was now holding her by the wrist pulling her out of her mother’s grab.

They were led to a smaller room, but were then separated again. She was grabbed by the arm and pulled. Soon they were going through a narrow and dark corridor. She was forced to go up a flight of  stairs. She was then thrown into a small dark room with a bed and a chair and a tiny table . There were some chains and long cables hanging on the wall. She was stoned with fear. “Interrogation!” she thought, feeling cold sweat running down her back. A few minutes later someone came in. He was big and fat and had a long beard. She was still standing by the bed. “Are you a teacher?” he asked. She was now as cold as a ice. She could not talk . When she tried, she could only let out a  scream. She then felt a terrible pain in her right cheek  and fell face down on the bed. The big man was now standing by the bed apparently taking off his clothes. She screamed again and tried to get off the bed. Her eyeglasses had fallen off now and her scarf was half way on her face. He pushed her down .She screamed again as he came down on her top. He grabbed and pulled her hair and punched her on the back when she screamed again at the top of her voice. “Shut up you bitch!” the big man shouted; but she could not stop. He then put his right arm around her neck and pressed. She could not breathe now. She stopped screaming but when he began to push into her she got a chance to scream once more from the bottom of her lunges. He then punched her a few times on the head until she stopped. She began screaming  hysterically when he got up and left.

Two people were now carrying her down the stairs.  As they got to the corridor, the half-crippled man appeared pulling a young woman behind him. She looked rather fuzzy but very familiar. She looked like aunt Targol. As they came closer, the woman tried to touch her but the limping man pulled her away. The woman moaned and followed him up the stairs. A few minutes later, the girl was  at the door of basement number two. The room was now  about  half empty. The middle-aged woman ran forward as soon as she saw her. “What in the heavens have those bastards  done to you!?” she yelled. Two other women embraced the girl as she began to fall.  “My God,” one of them said. “ Now I understand  why they are only taking  the young ones!”

 The middle-aged teacher slowly put the girl down next to her mother.  “ Oh  God Almighty! What have I done to deserve all this!?” the mother screamed as she tried to pull out a chunk of her own hair.

The girl could see the ceiling  above now but did not feel the floor beneath her. From somewhere in the sky, a very familiar countenance had now appeared. It was a lovely face covered with a liquid, dripping from its cheeks. Sometime later  the face came closer and kissed her hard. “Who… who in the world did this to you my poor darling  little  baby!? Who? Who!?”

Now everything was crystal clear to her. She was quite sure. But how could she say that to mother!? She moaned softly and tried to let out the words she wanted: “ It was …. It was …”, she said before she went into a stupor.

 

 

 


Submitted: September 04, 2015

© Copyright 2022 Herman Azadi. All rights reserved.

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