Mother and Child

The boy was smiling while raking leaves, but his smile faded as he heard his captor calling him.
"John," she repeated as he approached. When he refused to answer, she slapped him repeatedly, her nails digging into his flesh. He just smiled at her, willing to die before answering to the name John.
She finally relented when there were three deep gashes in his cheek. "What would you rather be called again?"
He told her his name for the fortieth time, and she angrily sighed, "someone made that name up to torment me."
"It was my mother's choice."
She pinched his other cheek, hard enough to draw blood, and coolly said, "You keep forgetting I am your mother now. That's the only reason I put up with your nonsense."
He wanted to laugh at her, but he couldn't do that without sobbing in pain. Instead, he replied just as coolly, "I don't remember because you can't even remember my name."
For a moment, her hands clawed mercilessly at his throat, but then she stormed away. He went back to raking leaves, imagining his real mother tearing the fake one's heart out from across a million miles.
----
That night, the fine lady commanded, "You must answer to the name 'John'."
The boy muttered, "I won't, not even after you kill me."
"I'm not going to kill you," she giggled innocently. "I just want to teach you proper etiquette."
"I think my mother taught me just fine. She never strangled or slapped me, so I never felt like she was going to kill me."
"You shut your mouth," she hissed ever more fiercely. "You've been here for a month already, so you should realize your heathen mother is never coming for you. She's a witch and they've probably already burned her at the stake. Why else would they separate you two?"
He felt tears welling up in his eyes, just like every other time she insulted his mother. But she wasn't done this time. "You know the food we're eating right now? The meat which you claim has no taste?" She leaned until the tips of their noses were touching. "What if I told you we were eating your mother?"
He poked both her eyes, and when she recoiled in pain, he ran deep into the woods. Hidden between two trees, he prayed, "Please bring me back to my mother," until he fell asleep on the ground.
He was still for a few hours, dreaming of the last time he'd felt his mother's embrace, until a familiar scent roused him. He looked into the eyes he knew so well and let out the tears of a month of pain.
"Mother, what will you do to them?" His mind was filled with gory revenge, but she smiled and shook her head.
"I will let us all have what we deserve," she whispered before carrying him away.
----
The next day, the gentlewoman saw her foster son come swaggering up to her house.
"John," she said coolly, "where have you been?"
"Mother." She heard a heavily accented woman's voice come from his throat. "My name is not John. Do not call me 'John'."
The woman scoffed. "Stop talking like that."
"I cannot stop talking like this, Mother," the boy sweetly sang to her. "This is the way I am meant to speak, Mother."
"Stop singing!" The lady took a plate and slammed it into his head. The boy only laughed before starting a song with words she couldn't understand. She picked him up and shook him, beating him until she was wheezing, but he kept singing sweetly.
She heard a noise and looked up, glaring at her neighbors' frightened faces.
"What?" she snapped. "It's my child, and he needs discipline!"
She looked down and continued to beat the dead dog as if it were her son.
----
The police had quite a puzzle on their hands.
The lady's fingerprints were all over the dog - its blood was literally on her hands. But worst of all, she could not distinguish the corpse from her foster child. They were too afraid of the backlash to imprison her, so she was kept in custody until determined sound of mind, at which point she returned to her house and never took another child.
The hollow between the two trees marked the end of the boy's scent trail. The police hounds lurched back from that place and bolted towards the town, gnawing at their leashes and whining like puppies.
The police made the only rational choice. The names of the child and mother were scrubbed from the warrants, but were secretly kept on a shorter list so they would never be bothered again. 
Category:Animals
Category:Mental Illness