Filius Ch. 03

[Author's Note: I would like to thank Lillie, Bigg_Mike, Captain Krunch, Latina, Kekostree and Rex for editing this chapter, providing me story feedbacks and fixing my lousy grammar. I wouldn't have been able to finish this without them.

To the people who have followed this story so far and are continuing to do so, thank you very much. I appreciate all your comments, feedbacks and messages. You all inspire me to become a much better writer.

P.S.

This is a re-edited version of chapter 3. I changed some of the descriptions of the places and added an extra dialogue.

Other than that, the story is still the same as in the previous version.]

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Chapter III: Inimicus

I stood speechless; dumbfounded at the sight before me. My Mum, near-naked with bruises all over her body, was standing in front of me. Her white dress was now grimy and tattered, torn to expose her right breast that she covered with her palm. Her hair was chaotic, and her make-up was smudged. She was a mess. Judging from the terrible state of her appearance, I felt certain something really bad had happened to her. And I thought I recognized who the possible culprit might be.

Marcus stood next to her, his large hand resting on her waist, as he observed my expression ... and then grinned. He towered over my mother and me. I am friends with persons of different colors; but his being very large, and black, made him an even more intimidating presence.

On top of this he wore a 'gangsta' get-up consisting of a white tank-top, baggy jeans, his signature white-gold necklace and other "bling-blings" that adorned his ear, wrist, and fingers. At that moment I was absolutely convinced he'd been the one who had hurt Mum -- or at least had had something to with it.

"Honey, is that you?" My Dad called as he approached from behind her. When he reached the door where I stood, he caught his first sight of Mum ... and Marcus, and froze.

"Oh, darling," my mother turned and ran toward him. She embraced him tightly, crying hard as she buried her face in his shoulder.

"What happened to you, Eva!?" he asked anxiously, patting her head.

She paused for a moment, as tears continued to trickle from her eyes, and looked up at him. She brushed at the tears and wiped them with her hand, then uttered softly, "I was raped."

"WHAT?!"

My Dad was clearly as shocked, judging from his facial expressions, as I was. While I'd already formed my own idea about what had happened, to hear her say it firsthand was horrifying.

"Who? Who did this?" He asked shaking her hard by the shoulders, momentarily oblivious of what he was doing. He stopped immediately when she yelped in pain, but kept hold of her shoulders. For a few moments he stood stock still, and gazed down at her in a state of shock.

"Whoa, easy there fool!" Suddenly Marcus stepped up and made to pull her away from him.

This surprised Dad right out of his catatonic state. He released her and looked up at the young man. Then suddenly he sprang into action. "YOU! You did this!" He pointed angrily at Marcus, who just looked back at him. He stormed toward Marcus, his fist raised over his head, but stopped short when he caught sight of Mum, who'd turned to hug the tall black man, shielding him from Dad.

"No, Greg! He didn't do this! He's my savior! He saved me!" She cried aloud, as her arms continued to envelope Marcus' waist.

I was stupefied. To see her protecting him from her very own husband, astonished me. And then to have learned that Marcus was actually her savior, completely blew my mind. It seemed I was mistaken when judging him earlier, and I rather regretted my presumption now.

"Umm ... umm ..." My Dad stuttered as he lowered his arms. He looked at Marcus, and upon seeing Marcus warily meet his gaze, immediately lowered his eyes. He stood quietly again, dumbfounded, scratching his head.

"I'm sorry Marcus. He didn't know," Mum said as she turned her face to him.

"It's okay, girl. No harm done," Marcus replied in a gruff voice. He stroked my Mum's back as they stood together.

I tried to think of something to say that would ease the tension. "We should all probably head inside."

"Yeah," Mum agreed. She led the way, hand in hand with Marcus, and walked toward me. She paused briefly to glare at Dad, when she passed by him. I held open the door and glanced calculatingly at Marcus' colossal figure as they passed through and inside. Dad needed a little coaxing to move; he still had his head down, riveted to where he stood.

"Dad, you coming?"

His trance broken, he looked at me with embarrassment and regret. "Yeah," he muttered and stepped through. I closed the door.

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Inside the apartment, it was quiet except for our movements as we found seats in the living room. Dad walked down the hall to the kitchen. I moved to sit close to Mum on the couch. She now had a large blanket draped around her. She slouched against one of the big couch pillows propped behind her, and stared blankly at the floor. Marcus sat sprawled in a plump chair nearby.

He'd made himself extremely comfortable, resting his feet on top of the coffee table, and looked around the room a bit too nonchalantly.

"Drink this, it will warm you up," Dad returned from the kitchen and gently handed a cup of coffee on a saucer to Mum.

She took it without acknowledging him, and I watched as Dad frowned at her little before turning to go back to the kitchen. "Ummm ... Marcus, was it?" He called from behind the kitchen counter.

"What?" Our guest replied.

"Would you like some coffee?"

"You got any beer, old boy?" He turned to grin at my Dad.

I found myself at odds with Marcus, disliking him for his boorish behavior during such a sensitive time. It seemed like he was intentionally forgetting his manners.

Dad seemed irritated too, but I noticed that he hid it under a forced smile. "I've got some Golden Fountain."

"Atta' boy!"

He carried two bottles into the living room, handing one to Marcus and keeping the other. He sat down on the couch. Dad and I now had Mum sandwiched in, one of us on each side, and as we settled down I watched her take another sip of her coffee.

"Dad, can I have a beer too?"

"No you can't young man, you're not yet twenty-one!" It was Mum who laid down the law this time.

I blushed with embarrassment when I heard Marcus snicker; and thought of pointing out in protest that Marcus was also not yet of legal drinking age, but backed down under Dad's glare. I decided to just bear with the shame.

Dad reached toward Mum's left shoulder and gave it a massage. "Eva, I've apologized to Marcus and I want to apologize to you. I'm sorry about the incident between Marcus and me. It was a mistake on my part. I was just angry. "So now, can you please tell me how it happened?" He pleaded.

For a few seconds, no one said a word. Mum looked at Dad and he returned her gaze, albeit a little anxiously. We all wanted to give Mum the time she needed.

Finally, she started to speak. "It was around 12. I was out by the curb waiting for a cab," She spoke softly, and took a breather, recollecting. After some more time passed, she continued. "My friend Anna insisted I stay at their house since I'd had a bit to drink, and it was very late. I turned down the offer though, since I wanted to go home to you guys."

She took a sip of coffee, carefully placing the cup back on its saucer, and then put it on the table. Clearing her throat, she carried on. "While I was trying to hail a taxi, I saw several men in a van shout at me -- some of it sounded like Spanish. I didn't understand, at first. Then I realized they were trying to pick me up. They kept following me as I walked up the street. It made me nervous. So I started running."

Dad took some swigs of his beer, listening intently.

"They then chased me, as some of them hopped out of the van. I was scared. I tried to scream for help as I ran, but no one heard me. I then saw an alley and ran towards it. But it was a dead end! When I tried to go back, they were already there. It was too late. I thought of calling 911, but then I realized my phone didn't have a battery anymore."

I watched her eyes, sensing she was reliving the same fear as when she had actually experienced those events.

"One of them, a young Hispanic, approached me and said that if I go with them, they won't hurt me. When I refused, he slapped me hard on the face. I then fell to the ground."

She showed us the mark on her cheek where she'd been hit. It looked tender, and Dad began to lightly caress it. She smiled weakly at him. "I tried to crawl away from them, but he grabbed my hair from behind and yanked it." She pulled her hair in imitation of the act. "I kicked him in the nuts, and threw my cell phone at his face. He dropped to the ground after that. I then continued crawling."

For some reason, even though the guy in the story deserved it, for hurting my mother, I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. I imagined myself in his place, as he was hit by a kick in the balls, and it kind of caused a phantom pain in my own testicles. I believed the same sentiments were shared by my father, as I noticed him gulped at the description.

Even though the guy deserved it for hurting my mother, I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. I imagined myself in his place, as he was hit by a kick in the balls; and it kind of caused a phantom pain in my own testicles. I suspected that the same sentiments were shared by my Dad; I'd noticed him gulp.

"I reached a wall however, and I knew I had no more escape. I saw him get back up, fuming at me. He then rushed at me and punched me in the eye. I was staggered. After that he started tearing of my clothes, while slapping me in the face when I resisted. Four other men then held me in the arms and in the legs, as he took my bra and panties off...." She stopped and began to cry. Tears streamed down her face while Dad tried to comfort her.

It was getting really emotional, and I didn't think that she could carry on with the story.

She proved me wrong, as she tried again to speak. "He then... he then..." She stuttered though, and couldn't seem to follow up with more words. Dad continued to stroke her back. Laying her head on his shoulder, she began to muster more of her spirit. "He then molested me ... and I couldn't do anything. So I just closed my eyes, and prayed." She closed her eyes for a while, as if trying to imagine the scene all over again. "It was then that I heard a thud and some gunshots. When I opened my eyes, he was there ..."

She opened her eyes, and then stared at Marcus, who met her gaze. Father caught this, and he too turned to look at my classmate. "He punched those assholes and shot some of them. They tried to fight back, but he was strong. Really strong!"

I then noticed her smile at Marcus, and watched him return her smile. It was the same one she always gave me. One part of me didn't like her giving it away to him, while another part of me was just glad to see it return to her face.

"When the guy who was raping me tried to shoot him with a gun, he shot him first in the arm. He then grabbed him, and threw him in the air. He was amazing!"

She beamed with gratitude at him. "When everything was over, he went to me and lifted me up. He then carried me." Her eyes, still a bit teary, now seemed to show flashes of ... maybe something more than grateful admiration.

I hoped I was mistaken.

"He saved me."

"Any real man would do the same thing, for a pretty woman like you," Marcus replied cheekily.

I couldn't quite get over how he'd done all of those things for my mum. It wasn't as if I didn't appreciate his help, but it kind of messed with my image of him. Try as I might, I couldn't get beyond my initial impression of him as some sort of barbaric, uncouth, malicious, sex-addicted asshole, even though it seemed I was wrong and that he had a heart after all.

"We should call the police and tell them about this!" My dad suddenly came to life, slamming his fist angrily on the table, surprising everyone.

Mum gaped at him with newfound fascination, but countered his decision, saying, "As much as I want to, honey, Marcus said we shouldn't."

Dad looked confused and scratched his head. "Why?"

Marcus laughed.

Dad glared at him. "What's so funny?"

He stopped chuckling, and eyed Dad somberly.

His sudden seriousness caught Dad off-guard. I watched him move a little farther back on the sofa. I couldn't blame him though, as I too felt nervous. It was the first time I had observed Marcus with that expression, and he looked downright intimidating.

"Those mothafuckas got connection with the police, and unless you want them busting their asses in your front door, then I suggest you don't call them."

Dad didn't seem to know what to say, so I volunteered, "How do you know? Do you know them?"

Marcus scoffed. We waited for a few moments, but the silence continued.

I was about to give up on getting a response, when he spoke up again. "Those sons- of-bitches are called Lil' Red Devils, a Latino gang. They kidnap women, beat them up, get them hook on drugs, and then sell them as sex slaves to wealthy buyers."

The name sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it.

"Oh my god!" Mum exclaimed, covering her mouth with her hands. Suddenly it had dawned on her what a very close call she'd had, and how lucky to have been saved by Marcus.

In desperation, Dad stood up and paced the living room. "So how do we deal with them then, if we can't call the police? We just can't stand here and do nothing! They raped my wife, for crying out loud!"

As Marcus followed suit and stood up, he easily dwarfed the old man. Dad stopped pacing and stood in front of him. Even my mum seemed momentarily spellbound, staring wide-eyed at him while she bit her lower lip.

"I'll deal with them," said Marcus. "We both go back a long way, old boy." He fisted his right hand and slammed it into his left palm, then cracked his knuckles. He meant serious business, and with his formidable physique and the aura of strength emanating from him, we were convinced.

How could we not be convinced? I thought to myself.

"I gotta bounce," he then said.

This caught Mum's attention. "What, already?" She looked at him with sad eyes and pursed her lips.

Marcus flashed his pearly-whites at her and pointed to the clock hanging on the kitchen wall.

"It's six-twenty in the morning, girl."

"Oh." She eyed Dad pleadingly.

He was befuddled, trying to read her body language. "... Do what?"

"You know..." She twitched her eyebrow, and bobbed her head subtly at him.

It took him a few more seconds until he finally caught on. "Oh," he muttered, and fishing his wallet out of his back pocket, he rifled through its contents. He selected a business card and handed it over. "Here's my card, Marcus. Just call me if you need anything. And I mean, anything...." He stopped to scratch his head. Based from his facial expression, he seemed to shy away from what he felt he had to say next. "Well at least, within my financial boundaries and capabilities of course. You know what I mean," he quipped.

Marcus glanced at the card and placed it in a pants pocket. Then he turned toward Mum and grinned. She in turn smiled brightly at him while running her fingers through her untidy hair, and tucked part of it behind her ear.

"Oh, I will. You can count on that." He nodded, grinned, and then headed toward the door. About halfway there he halted and walked back toward Mum while his right hand reached inside his front pocket. "I almost forgot. This must be yours." He took out a pink rectangular device and handed it to her.

"Oh my god! It's my cell phone!"

Yeah, girl. I found it in --"

Before he could finish, she stepped up to Marcus and embraced him. She even dropped her towel, exposing herself.

"Easy, girl. Easy." He said, smilingly.

"Okay, that's enough." Dad pulled her away from him. "Weren't you leaving? Like you said, it's already 6 in the morning, right."

I examined the clock, and it said, "6:40."

"Of course, old boy," Marcus replied. He turned around and departed.

"Okay, that's enough."

"Take care, Marcus!" Mum shouted, which elicited a retaliatory glare from Dad. "What? I was just saying goodbye."

They started bickering, Dad clearly jealous, while she in turn made excuses or denied each of his allegations.

"Look at you, your tit is hanging freely, and then you hug him --"

"My clothes got torn off, right?"

"But you were also staring at him ... and ... and ..."

"No, I wasn't."

Amidst their quarrel, Dad suddenly pointed to me and ordered, "You, lock the door and make sure he doesn't come back in."

"Jesus, Greg!" She exclaimed back.

It was early morning, but the day was already bright. Just before locking it, I turned the handle and cracked open the door to look down the hall. I could see Marcus, about to enter the lift. Before he stepped inside he tore something to pieces and threw it behind his back. It seemed to be a small piece of paper ... but I couldn't tell for sure. The doors of the lift closed. I stood, peering outside for another moment. There was nothing more to see, so I closed and locked the door.

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"Yaawwwnnnn!"

"Seems like you must have had a crazy night."

"You have no idea."

My first class was English. I sat, waiting for class to start, talking with my best friend Chris, and yawning incessantly. After Marcus had left this morning, I'd had to prepare for school immediately. I hadn't wanted to go, but Dad had insisted.

"Go to school, James."

"But Dad, I don't feel like it. And besides, I want to take care of Mum. I'll just stay at home."

"It's alright. I'll be taking care of her. I won't go to work today."

"But Dad..."

"GO TO SCHOOL, NOW!"

Speaking of Marcus, it was unusual that he wasn't present today. He was usually early, as he always likes to hang around with his friends and make-out with the hot girls in the class, before the teacher comes in. Even his usual cronies and bevy of hot chicks were nowhere to be found.

Well, except for Mimi, who was sitting all alone on a chair while sucking on a lollipop lasciviously. She wore her hair in a sort of Anime-inspired look: a short frizzy bob tinted with brown highlights. She had on a pink boob tube that wonderfully accentuated her gigantic rack. It seemed to be too tight for her, or maybe she intentionally wanted her boobs to appear as though they were struggling to stay inside. To complete the look, she wore a black micro mini-skirt and a pair of high heels.

"Yo! Where you going, bro?"

"Just want to find out about something," I told Chris.

At first she seemed not to notice my approach, as she continued to suck and lick her lollipop. It was making me hard watching her. I imagined her sucking the tip of my manhood instead, her small hands holding the shaft of my penis while playing with my balls. I woke up from my fantasy when I saw her bite the lollipop.

"Hi Mimi, how's it going?"

She looked at me, checking me out from head to toe, and then turned toward me slowly while shifting to cross her leg. If she was wearing any undergarments, they were the sheerest ever designed, as far as I could tell!

"What?" She asked, arching her eyebrow.

"I just wanted to ask you about something."

"Well, if you're here to ask me for a date, let me just say that I only date guys with big cocks. And judging from your looks, even though you're kind of cute, you don't seem to have much in that department."

I felt burnt down to a crisp. I decided to soldier on, swallow my pride, and just ask her what I'd come over to inquire about. "Ummm ... no. I just wanted to ask you about Marcus. How come he's not here? Is he coming to school today?"