He's done it. I can't believe it, the horny little shit. Where did I go wrong with that one? For the life of me, I will never know.
Here he comes now with that whore of his. Where did he find her? Do I even want to know? I can hear them slamming up against the door. They can't even wait until they get in the bedroom before they start. Selfish, disgusting, rude people. We never used to behave like this.
Oh, here they are. Finally decided to come in, have they? The bed creaks as one of them throws the other down. I hear laughing, kissing, growling. Growling! Where did he ever learn to do that? Where did he ever even get the idea? Certainly not from his father. Not once in all the years we were married did that man ever... growl at me! I would have been horrified. I am horrified! That this... animal behavior... is going on in my house! It's unacceptable.
I'm standing in the doorway. He has no clue. He's preoccupied. So is she. Disgusting. It used to be a lady had respect for herself. Not this one. Cheap and easy is the best he could do. My son. I have so much to be proud of. To be honest, though, the fact that it's a woman is somewhat of a relief. Honestly, I had my doubts. But is bringing home a sloppy slut really any better than the alternative? Hardly.
The belt is in my hand. This same belt has been my trusted companion for many years. Not one of my children made it to adulthood without feeling the sting of this very belt across their bare flesh. Some, like this young man, felt it much more often than others.
Time to break up this little party. I move into the room. He still has no idea I'm even there until I give the belt a good crack inside my palm. He looks up, surprised, blinking like an idiot.
"Why did you stop?" she pants, breathless.
"Martin," I say. "You're being a very bad boy." His face goes pale. He looks like he's about to cry. "You know what happens when you disobey Mother," I add.
Something's wrong. Something's... different. His cheeks flame suddenly. His eyes... what is that I see? Rage? He thrusts hard into the girl. She yelps in surprise. He thrusts again and again, his eyes glued on me all the while, burning into mine.
"What are you doing?!" she cries. "Stop!"
He doesn't hear. His actions take on a kind of brutality I've never seen before. I'm frightened. Harder and harder he goes. Her screams get louder and louder.
"Stop it, Martin!" I join in with her, the two of us shouting in unexpected harmony. He tears his eyes away from me and looks down at the one who has become his victim. I gasp as he grabs her by the throat. Her cries die away into chokes and gurgles. She claws at him frantically.
I can stand no more. I lunge at him and throw myself on top of his naked body. I try to pull him off of her, but it's no use. I can't even seem to touch him. My hands pass right through. This is not normal. This should not be happening. It's as if he were a ghost... or....
The choking stops. I know what this means, but I don't dare think it. The girl lies still beneath my son's frame. His wheezing breaths are the only sound that fills the dark room.
My son. Where did I go wrong?