A Serenade for the Innocent - 109 Uncharitable, Uncaring, and Unkind

“Now, now, my son, let’s come in, come in now. Oooh! You should have called us that you’re coming home today, so we could have given you a welcoming party, you know, a grand one! I would have even cooked your favorite fruit salad, and oh! I would even put pears and blueberries in it! Isn’t that wonderful, baby?” My mother, Ila, articulated very finely with a bright smile as she caressed my face gently.

“Yes. That would have been great, mom, but you see, I have a reason for coming here unannounced.” I said with a slightly downcast gaze.

“Nobody gives a shit,” Susan spoke with gritting teeth as she covered the little boy’s mouth with her hand. Regardless of her actions, we could still hear the muffled yelling of the boy out of her tightly clasped palm. She then groaned with a visibly annoyed look plastered on her face as she pulled the boy’s hands upward, dragging it into the mansion while the boy continues to kick and jump around all over the place.

When Susan finally entered the house, my mother sighed with contempt before looking back at me again with an excited smile. “Ignore your sister, Toly! She doesn’t know what she’s saying! Look, I really, really care about WHATEVER reason you may have for not contacting us first—all of us here in your family do! Now, now, shall we come inside?” Mom said with her hand on my back while gesturing her other hand onto the doorway.

We both then entered the house, and what welcomed us is the old and massive painting of the family, sitting right in front of the main entrance of the mansion. There are a few comfortable-looking sofas around the portrait of the family along with three, small, circular-shaped coffee table. The little boy, Kyle, was holding on the edge of one of those tables with Susan shoving his head onto the wooden surface of the table while her other hand whipped her bottom with the metal buckle of a heavy belt.

I noticed that there’s something inside of the boy’s mouth, and upon careful inspection, I realized that Susan must have shoved the boy’s sock inside of its mouth since it was tiptoeing on the floor barefooted. Oddly enough, the boy keeps its legs straight, although it was shaking uncontrollably each time Susan hits its buttocks with the buckle of the belt.

“How many times do I have to tell this to you, huh?” Susan articulated each word while continuously whipping her belt onto the boy like it was something that she was already accustomed to doing. Now that I can finally look at the boy Kyle closely, I could finally see a few faint bruises, marks, and scratches all over its rough skin. Perhaps, whipping his bottoms is only one of Susan’s kinder punishments. This must have been why the boy is willingly letting her do it. My, I dare say, Kyle almost looked like he was thankful that he’s only getting the belt. “You need to do what mommy tells you, or else you will be in danger out there! Why can’t you understand that?”

“Yes, mommy. I’m so sorry, mommy!” I could faintly hear Kyle say so almost robotically, even with the sock inside of its mouth.

“Then, be better! BE BETTER!” Susan said as she smacked the belt bucket onto the boy’s behind, but this time, it was so severe that I could faintly see Kyle’s feet almost giving up before he straightened it again.

“Why is she even whipping the kid?” I asked in a whisper to my mother, who seemed to be texting someone on her flip phone.

“Oh, that?” She said before taking her eyeglasses that are hooked on the collar of her orange dress. “Susan said that his kid was grounded after seeing him ripping a picture of her mom in their photo album.” My mom then chuckled as she continued to fiddle with her flip phone once again. “The little devil escaped his room and then, well, that’s what he gets for being disobedient,” mom then raised her head and looked at Susan, who’s still whipping her child’s behind. “JUST LIKE HER MOTHER!” My mom yelled while looking at Susan with contemptuous eyes.

“Hmm,” I said as I placed my luggage on one of the coffee tables in the lounge while looking at Susan and her child. “At least she’s taking good care of him.”

“Yes, that I can be proud of, at least.” My mom whispered as her voice gradually disappears before dialing someone in her phone contacts. “Hello? Yes. No, no! You misunderstand me!” She said while waving her hands into the air. “I don’t care about your husband! I will not loan you any money! It’s a bad practice, and I am sure that you will only keep getting more and more and more debt till you’re so far in debt that you’ll ask me more money just to pay me!” She then placed her phone on her other ear. She then realized that I was listening to their calls, so she smiled at me before speaking once again. “Look, I’ll have to call you back, okay? No, I won’t change my mind. Yeah, whatever! I don’t care! Never call me again then. You’re just wasting my god damn time!” I could hear my mom’s voice raise with anger, reminding me again that she’s not at all young anymore with the way her voice cracks every now and then. My mom was about to end the call, but she placed it on her ear again and said, “And I’m sorry about your husband’s leukemia. I really am.” Without another word, my mother ended the call once and for all with an annoyed groan. “How very inconsiderate.”

“Who was that?” I asked with a chuckle as the clasping sound of Susan’s belt hitting her son’s behind rang throughout the lounge.

“You remember your cousin Betty? Oh, Betty, Betty, Betty! Very fine lass, she is! Very great, amazing family too—I met them at the ball party at Christmas—cute kids and amazing husband! Perfect! It’s too bad you didn’t meet them, all too bad, really! Oh, but she called me today and said that she needs money for her husband’s hospitalization, and I…” My mom then raised both of her hands with a loud groan, which rang well along with Kyle’s continued agonizing cries. “What do I have to do with that?” She continued, asking with a dumbfounded look on her wrinkled but still beautiful face.

“Nothing,” I said while shaking my head with a smile.

“Precisely!” She said while pointing her finger at my eyes and putting her phone into the pocket of her black slacks. “My goodness! She never once called us when she married that rich doctor guy, and now, she has the gull to come crawling back? Oh, no, no, no! She’s dead to me, I say! Dead! DEAD!”

“Well, his husband has got nothing to do with us anyway.” I shrugged with a chuckle. It’s true. When cousin Betty let go of the Antonova family name to marry that man, she pretty much gave us the middle finger and bolted off with her life far away from us.

“Bah! None at all!” My mom said with a wave of her hands while looking at my baggage. “I’ll go call the boys and tell them to put your things in your room!” My mom chuckled with an excited gaze on her face while Kyle’s screams grew louder in the background. My mom was about to leave the lounge when she suddenly turned her body towards me again. “Oh, oh, oh! And don’t worry! Your room is very clean! Very, very clean—I ask them to clean it every day, yes! No dust, no dirt, no grime, my baby boy, indeed! You don’t have to worry about that, okay, baby?”

“Of course, mom,” I said with a nod as I saw my mother slowly move towards the mansion’s long hallway to find her two boy servants. It really is such a surprise that she still has this enough energy after all this time.

I then looked at the family portrait, gigantic as always. I marveled at its size and at its fantastic artistic details with awe while the musically sorrowful cries of a child rang all over my ears. I then contemplated upon the faces of the people on the portrait.

We were all wearing a black suit with a white undershirt along with black pants and black shoes. There I was sitting on my mother’s lap. Since this was painted around 20 years ago, that means I’m still about 8 or 9 years old when this was painted. It’s almost surreal, really. My mom was wearing the same clothes as all of us, but the only difference is that she’s wearing a beautiful silver tiara with a sharp point in the center, clad with multiple colorful gemstones. On her side stood my then 12 years old older sister, Susan, with her bored and annoyed expression, showing how much she hated being in that painting. It was a stark contrast from my almost angelic smile because it was what my mother had told me to do. Never once had I regretted my decision to follow that order every time I look at this painting.

Behind us stood two attractive men wearing the same costume as the rest of the people in the portrait. The guy on the left smiles devilishly like he knew exactly what is going on inside of your hear while the one on the right can freeze you with their stern gaze. They were both holding a baby on their hands. In fact, the only reason why these men were in the painting in the first place was all because they must include those twins in there somehow. However, my mom refuses to carry them. Thus, she just allowed her two handsome servants to do the job for her.

“So you have returned, young master.” A voice resounded behind me as I gazed at the marvelous masterpiece before me.

“Oh, Christopher! I told you to stop calling me ‘young master’ already! I’m almost thirty, dude!” I said with a chuckle after looking at the grinning and fresh-looking young man standing by my side. “Where is Alejandro?”

“He’s with your cousins outside of the mansion, young master,” Christopher replied almost mockingly with his condescendingly striking smile.

“One more of that, and I will terminate you,” I said mockingly, but both of us know that half of the meaning I imply in my joke holds true.

“Forgive my impudence then, Mister Anatoly,” Christopher replied with a bow. “Oh, but maybe I should start calling you Father Anatoly now? Ooh! Maybe you want to be a bit on the kinky side and let me start calling you Daddy Anatoly.”

I laughed heartily after hearing whatever silly suggestions that came upon Christopher’s sharp mind. “Well, that’s a good start,” I said while moving my gaze back into the painting again. “But let’s not make your final suggestion a reality, unless we now have ways to turn you into a woman, then if that’s the case, I am all up for it!”

“I’m afraid the Organization is still researching that possibility, but you will be the first one I’ll call when that opportunity arises.”

The manservant chuckled with his usual mischievous grin that could make anyone faint upon their first contact. However, not only am I used to seeing this man, but I am also aware of his fake his entire gig is. No, I don’t mean he’s plastic—not at all, far from it! What I’m saying is that nothing about him is real, not his smile and definitely not his perfectly toned body behind his tight suit—my mom insists that her servants should wear suits as a uniform. None of them really complaints about it, though.

I then gazed at the old painting once more and stared at the two servants behind us who are holding the two babies on their arms. I then looked again at the young man before me as he gently fixes my luggage for me while still listening to the weakening cries of Susan’s son.

“You two never really age, huh?” I said with a stern gaze while looking at the man take my luggage.

“I’m afraid that function does not exist yet when we were made.” The young servant said as he stood still with my luggage on his hands.

“So I heard.” I nodded while carefully looking at the painting once more—particularly the image of me, my mom, and my sister. Christopher, on the other hand, patiently stood beside me while carrying my luggage.

The three of us became older, but none of us really grew. We were all the same people as we were when this portrait was created.

An uncharitable mother, an uncaring son, and an unkind daughter.

An uncharitable matriarch, an uncaring priest, and an unkind mother.

Three different words and three different people, but all one and the same in the eyes of the Lord and a dictionary. Uncharitable, uncaring, and unkind—destined to exist in three different contexts but will end up in the same wavelength regardless of where they go and irrespective of what path they take.

“Is my cousins playing that whipping game again outside?” I asked Christopher while still looking at the portrait.

“Indeed, they are, Mister Anatoly.”

“Good.” I then walked past Christopher and headed straight into the back entrance of the mansion. “You can go on ahead and put those things in my room. I’ll play with my cousins for a little bit. Go on.”Find authorized novels in Webnovel，faster updates, better experience，Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.

“Yes, sir.”

Before I could open the back door, I was already hearing the sound of two identical-sounding people chuckling in unison while the sound of something hitting a hard surface echoes through my ears. When I finally came outside, the laughing men stopped what they were doing and looked at me with awe instead.

“Anatoly Bro!” A fat young man said while tightly holding a whip on his left hand.

“Cousin Toly!” Another fat young man who looked the same as the other guy said with a whip on his right hand.

“Welcome back, young master Anatoly.” A young man wearing the servants’ uniform said with a bow to me with a stern look on his face.

“What are you two doing?”I said while walking towards the two identical fat men outside of the mansion.

“You see, you see, Alejandro gave us a new guy! New guuuuy!” The one who’s holding his whip on his left hand said.

“Is that so, George. We must be thanking Alejandro then!”

“Yes, yes! This guy is great, Brother Toly! He doesn’t cry at all! Not at all! No matter how much we whip him, no tears!”

“Is that so, Jeffrey? Can I give it a try?”

“Of course, of course!” The two fat men said in unison as they excitedly gazed at me. They didn’t even ask about why I came here or why I haven’t been around for almost three years now. They just kept on talking about themselves and their new little toy repeatedly like the rest of the world is just another irrelevant schmuck to them.

“We have a spare whip right here, young master.” The servant named Alejandro said while extending his hand to give what seemed like a thick and black whip at me.

“Thanks,” I said while ignoring Alejandro completely.

“Why you could even uh… yeet the whip and um… I believe people of your age call it ‘dab’ on that silly man right there on yonder if you so desire, young master!” Alejandro said with his usual monotonous voice and stern gaze.

“Was that supposed to be a joke?” I asked without waiting for his reply as I scoffed while walking away from him.

I don’t really like this one, so I’m not really talking to him much. He doesn’t know how to crack jokes, unlike Christopher, and he’s always unnecessarily stern and strict for the sake of acting like a professional. Psh. Yeah, sure, he’s a professional, alright! A professional clown. However, in his case, he’s a clown who couldn’t even entertain his patrons properly! He would insist on keeping his upright attitude to do his work in its utmost perfection, but he does try to humor people with varying results, all of which would make anyone cringe. His little serious charade didn’t really work in his favor. After all, Christopher is far better than him in doing any of his jobs. Nevertheless, he does his job well, so I allow him to be around me however he wants.

Now then, time to see what they’re playing then. I moved my head towards a man whose limbs were tied tightly on an X-shaped wooden cross. The man in question was naked, but his head was covered with a black bag. Many different bruises cover his exposed body from top to bottom, making him look like a pale cake with red velvet filling. I then readied myself a few feet away from him while the twins cheered me on from behind.

I then struck him hard once.

The man moved and squirm, but he never screamed nor cry.

I struck him one more time.

The man’s chest moved upward, but no voice came out of him.

I decided to take another step back while tightening my grip around the whip’s handle. I struck the man with all the strength I could muster from my dominant hand, but it only mustered a soft muffled groan from him. This was enough to please the twins, though. Apparently, no amount of voice came out of the man’s mouth by the time they first started yesterday.

While we were about to wrap up the entire whipping game, Susan suddenly barged out of the mansion and walked right towards us with her usual uninterested and tired gaze. She then looked at me and how much I’m sweating all over from my forehead to my neck. She then looked at the whip in my hands while slowly moving my gaze towards the man who’s tied up at the x-shaped cross.

She then groaned while shaking her head. “Give me that.” She uttered while forcefully taking the whip out of my hands.

Without even batting an eye or wasting any more time, Susan started whipping the man in rapid succession without stopping to breathe or relax her arm. After a while, the man began to squirm and fly into pain uncontrollably while we could hear the gritting of his teeth with his tightened jaw. Each strike that Susan inflicted upon the poor man’s body would leave him severely trembling with huge gashes and sharp bruises that would bleed without stopping. Every time the tip of the whip hits him, it would create a noticeable slash, and every time the body of the whip hits its target, it would create a large lump of internal bleeding. Susan’s strikes had gradually gotten so unbearably painful for the man on the cross that the naked man would start to shriek and tremble before the whip could even hit him.

Susan then took a step backward and whipped the man right into her ballsack with ease, making the man scream so god damn hard in such a high pitched voice that I almost mistook him for a girl. The sound the whip makes every time it hits the man’s skin would echo all over the stillness enveloping the mansion that one could feel the severity of Susan’s strikes through hearing alone. Like a soprano in a classical opera masterpiece, the man continued to let out a deafening roar of agony as his balls wiggle every time the whip hit it. Susan then struck the man’s testicles three more times before stopping without even heaving or showing any sign of tiredness. Every hit would cause the naked stranger to howl like banshees on the final layer of hell.

I shrugged upon this sight with an approving look while the twins looked at Susan with sparkling eyes.

The man kept screaming even after Susan was done with him while his body flays like a fish on land.

Susan then dropped the whip onto the floor while the continued screaming of the man echoed all over the empty fields around the mansion.

“Mom’s calling us.” And just like that, Susan returned into the mansion as if nothing had happened.