Louis got no answer.
For the next two hours, he sat on the mattress, leaning on his elbow, sweating and watching through the open window, awaken by the disproportionate heat in the room, the moon and the stars flickering in the distance like great fireflies. He remembered the endless nights he had spent in his previous home until three days ago, which he had spent mostly driving.
His back and ass were sore. Still, he was excited about his new home. His new home. That was enough not to let him sleep. However, the slow and silent passing of time dragged him to the deepest sleep he had had in the last four years of his life.
Nevertheless, Samantha, in her splendid sixteen years, was still awake in the twilight of the night, half naked. She was sitting on the mattress, rereading a popular pop music magazine.
Meanwhile, someone was watching her with disdainful interest.
8
Justin was an identity that started coming to light in the last year, but the most severe and the one adopted or attached to Tom right now, it has to be said, and since two years ago, was Jack. In the last three years, he had emerged assiduously, and had done bad things. Very bad things. They were so frightening that, when he was Tom, the mentally retarded who stammered, he could not remember what had happened .It was like becoming Mr. Hyde and returning to the strange and repellent Dr. Jekyll. Justin was even worse, but he still had not appeared completely.
Becoming Jack for a few hours was also the reason why neighbors did not last long in the house next door. The people from the neighborhood simply went elsewhere. For Jack, it was his "nightmares" that he had to eliminate from his life and from his troubled mind. But when he was Tom again, he saw them. The arms came in, groping the edges of the window, continually moving all the fingers of the various hands he saw. They were looking for something. He did not see their faces or even the shoulder that followed those purple arms, but he knew who those arms belonged to, slapping at the window, or he thought he knew who they really were. He wanted to get them out of his mind, out of his sight, but that was impossible. Then he would reach for the bottle of Whiskey and, after getting drunk, he would see with surprise as they diluted in the nothingness, all those arms probing the frame of the window and the wall. Still, he saw the bloodstains drawn on the wall by the dark fingers of the dead. Because they were dead.
Tom knew it, and then his heart throbbed like a jellyfish moving freely, swimming under the salty water of the sea, except that it throbbed faster and painfully. Very painfully. It was scary. Suddenly he was afraid; that was the right word. He began to stammer as he counted back. But that was just a part of his life, as complex as Rubik's cube solution.
Until Jack came back, he did not understand anything.
9
The psychiatrist, hiding behind a pair of blue glasses, explained in one of Stella Rush's, Tom's mother, visits to his consultation about what his son's illness was.
"Your son has what's known as dissociative identity disorder, that is, a multiple personality disorder." He paused to take a deep breath and continued. This mental illness manifests itself through numerous symptoms. The most common feature of this disease is that there are at least two or more identities. It has even been concluded that patients can adopt up to a hundred different identities or personalities..."
"Really?" Stella asked in alarm, nestling in the chair at the psychiatrist's office.
"Yes!" Said the psychiatrist, and added "In a disorder of dissociative identity, between eight and twelve identities known as partial appear on average." All this was Greek to Stella, but she listened, "Of these, at least two take control over the patient's behavior on several occasions."
Stella rubbed her hair.
"Yes, of course" she said, as if she understood something of what the man with dark hair and blue streaks, like the color of his glasses, said.
"The person who assumes the great part of daily life within the dissociative disorder is named the guest" he stressed this last word, "since it remains forever inside the person, whereas the partial personalities connote different changes or transformations..."
"What?"
"Dissociative identity disorder implies memory gaps. In guest mode, he is only partly aware of other personalities, so he does not remember his actions either. Many patients don't know how they got to the place where they are, who is the person they have greeted, or who has written the shopping list hanging from the refrigerator door."
Stella leaned back in her chair again, her eyes widening now, as the man's voice shot up like a verbiage.
"You can discover the different identities of dissociative disorder, because these patients have different names, tastes, and new behaviors that reflect each character. They also show psychological differences. Thus, for example, a partial personality may suddenly be allergic to a substance that the whole personality tolerates. In other words, the peculiarities of both personalities are totally opposite in almost all cases. The extent to which different identities cooperate mutually in a dissociative identity disorder, in the point where both are found, in order to have mutual access to memories and actions, allow them to condition and coordinate the changes of partial personalities."
"Oh!" Stella was hesitant. Had she understood anything? Was Tom really like that? Could she tell if Tom was another partial or complete person? If Tom was transformed, could he remember anything? Nothing had been clear, nothing at all. Although she continued to listen as if she was completely interested in the subject.
"If there is a dissociative identity disorder in a person, in this case your son, the following symptoms, such as depression, often appear." The psychiatrist spread the thin fingers out of one hand to count. "Pictures of the past, that is, flashbacks. These states are triggered by external stimuli as serious as abuse or sexual stimulation." The psychiatrist fixed his gaze on Stella's eyes, widening his eyes. They go through fears, attempts of self-mutilation, attempted suicide, assault, severe headaches, need for alcohol, or drug abuse."
Stella remembered something when the gentleman mentioned alcohol, and at that moment she felt the need to have a drink.
"There's no alcohol in my house" Stella said, waving her hands like blades.
The psychiatrist looked at her sideways and added to his speech.
"They suffer eating disorders as well as obsessive compulsive behaviors .They perceive voices coming from other adopted personalities."
"Are you done yet?" Stella asked, frowning.
"Just one more thing" the psychiatrist said. "Personality disorders suffered by his son as schizotypal, schizoid, or bipolar, as well as having a mild mental retardation, are not at all associated with personality disorder or dissociative identity."
"All right" Stella said, and rose from the chair as if she had been pushed by a spring.
The verbiage was over. Had he understood anything?
Maybe not.
The door closed with a heavy blow behind her.
10
Justin was about to appear. If Jack's identity was bad enough, Justin's was worse, but he began to wake up softly, quietly, like a helpless child sleeping peacefully while the wolf's snout was drooling near his face.
"Before eight... eighty there's se... seventy-fuh... five" Tom said in a low voice, before Justin appeared with his cracked voice.
Tom Lee Rush was watching her through the window, his hands resting on the glass, wearing only shorts. The heat was unbearable that night. His window was right in front of Samantha's window, so you just had to stand there and look. Of course that would not be so after Samantha or her mother hung some curtains. But now, on her first day in the new house, she did not have curtains, and she would not have them in the next three or four days. In the end, she hung them.
Tom was pleased and excited at the same time for what he was seeing. In the depths of his damaged brain, he understood that this teenager was his new neighbor. Tom was clumsy and mentally retarded, but not stupid at all, and he knew certain things. Besides, he had the cha
rming feature of adopting different identities. Without leaving home, he knew that the new neighbors had arrived that morning. He had been snooping all the time from his window, while he took out the snot, in Tom's role.
And now he was standing in front of the window again, staring at Samantha's beautiful, virgin, and teenage body. It was a rough diamond to be polished. Tom did not understand exactly what the two lumps that hung from her chest were, but he knew he liked to see them.
Samantha had lush breasts, straight and hard, with huge nipples. Her taut, dark skin covered the scandalous curves of her body with disproportionate skill. Her hips were shaped like a perfect Spanish guitar. Right at that moment, the white cotton panties fit her divinely. Tom noticed that too, from his lair. And he noticed something else.
Further down. Just slightly below, Tom could see a beautiful yet mysterious triangle, something he was pleased to do. But he did not know exactly what it was. He noticed that she did not have the same thing as him, under what he would call underpants, since he did not know what panties were. An innocent being without polishing. He noticed how the bulk was flatter and more evenly distributed. Later on, he would know what panties were...
Exciting.
...That's the pussy, boy. And you know how it smells. The best smell in the world.
Probably if Tom was someone else, now he would be jerking off under the window. Tom was not that kind of guy, at least for now. Tom did not know what sex was. More than once, he had been surprised and frightened at the same time when he had had an erection waking up in the morning. And of course he had never asked momma. Deep inside, something was embarrassing. It was a feeling he did not know exactly, but it made him refrain. However, later on, he would want it.
However, Tom knew that touching his penis under these circumstances was pleasing.
Anonymously pleasing.
And now he was having an erection.
The darkened triangle of the panties at the level of her pubis was the cause of it.
Tom did not know exactly what was happening, but it felt good.
It felt hugely good and pleasing.
Samantha's dark, smooth hair covered part of her right shoulder and chest, revealing an erect, dark nipple between the thin strands of her hair. She flipped a page out of the magazine and shook her head. Her gaze fixed on an equidistant spot and her half-open mouth excited him more and more. Kneeling on the mattress, she stretched a little. Now her breasts were two lumps pointing toward the ceiling of the room. The triangle of her panties stretched further, showing a mountain known as Venus, splendid and virgin. Accused in its size.
Tom had the biggest erection of his life. He felt like something was going to explode down there, inside the shorts. His eyes narrowed, and his mind did not understand. He only knew it gave him pleasure. Watching her timidly from his den gave him pleasure. Especially, watching her in those conditions. In the morning, he had not felt the same, when they were in the garden with Mom.
Now it was different.
Now for the first time in his life, he was seeing a woman-teenager almost naked.
Now he had discovered a world of new and good sensations for him.
A while later, the virile member had become a mass of pain and, later, of pleasure. Samantha closed the magazine and lay down on the mattress, completely ignoring that she was being watched. First, she lay upside down, and her breasts crushed like two puddings on the verge of melting, and the lump of luxuriant, bulging pubis emerged in her crotch. Then, she had turned and did not move anymore.
Tom stood for a long moment beside the window.
He dropped to the floor, leaning on his back, and remained squatting with his penis still erect. He stayed like this for a long time, listening to his mother blaspheming down in the kitchen.
She had drunk as usual, and now she was drunk as a lord. She said incoherent things. Tom knew perfectly well the feeling of guilt and hatred for his mother when she got so drunk. But now, another sensation experienced for the first time filled him with joy and pleasure. Without Sedum, he felt more serene than ever.
"This is the greatest thing in the world" a newly adopted Justin hissed, not stammering.
That night, Tom-Justin fell asleep in that position. Wrapped in pleasant and new sensations, he fell asleep with his member still erect.
That night, Tom discovered with amazement a pleasant experience.
That night, Justin's identity first surfaced, long after that of evil Jack. That night, Justin just started walking before he became very dangerous, even more than Jack.
11
It was Tom's most perverse identity. Justin was a sex maniac and acted with some violence, but that would be later. Partial personality or identity had surfaced .It had taken over Tom completely. Bringing him down, but having a good time with his cock in his hand. And he remembered. His new identity recalled something that could not happen in this type of dissociative disorder, but he had a flashback that barely let him remember any image. He saw his mother touching her "hidden" part with her fingers. Then everything was fuzzy, and the memory faded like fog under the sun.
When he was Tom again, he could not remember what happened last night. He could not remember how he stroked his member and how his pleasure came. The new discovery as he saw the neighbor's tits. Tom did not remember anything and stammered again.
Next morning, his mother had found a dry stain stuck to the windowpane and a few hard drops stuck to the floor. She suddenly went down the stairs quickly and prayed again before the great mahogany wood Christ, with her hands clasped together so hard her knuckles turned white.
For Tom, morning had not yet begun.
12
Next day, Tom woke up in the same position and had a new erection on waking, which he hid quickly with his hands when his mother burst into his room, disheveled and with an irate gaze.
If superficially, Tom discerned certain things that were unpunished for him. For example, and he did not know why, he was embarrassed to show his erect penis to his mother. Sense of shame is equally valid for every human, but not for animals. However, much later, the shame would dissipate completely under a new identity.
When he had an erection, an internal fire swarmed out of his body uncontrollably in the form of blushing. In a way, he knew that was bad. In addition, his mother had hit his head with her pillow several times when innocently, at age twelve (the first time he had a serious erection), he showed her the erect member with a contemptuous smile on his face. Then he had no shame, because he was a child submerged in ignorance.
His mother had taught him that it was a sin for teenagers like him. That his father had had the same thing the night he copulated with her to bring the world, nine months later, a shit like Tom.
Fortunately, Tom could not understand every word, since he lacked consistent knowledge to understand certain malice of people.
That, fortunately, would avoid many headaches. The lack of ability to discern certain things would help him completely ignore his mother.
It was something good, since she was an unprecedented hysteric. She had sudden attacks of insanity, worse than Tom could ever have.
If you did not mess with him, you could handle Tom.
But times change, and people change too. The new sensations could lead to Tom by bad directions. And that would not be far, but for his tiny understanding, whatever he did would be good for him.
"What are you hiding?" His mother asked.
Tom shook his head. In a way, he knew what to expect.
"Haven't I told you a thousand times that it is a sin?" His mother yelled, pouncing at him. Her bony hand tightened around a reddish strand that she pulled tightly, forcing Tom to leap to his feet. "You're a pig! Every damn morning you wake up like this! What are you thinking about?"
"No, momma! I did not... wuh... wanted..."
"Shut up!" His hysterical mother cut him off. "You're a dirty, filthy man who has to wash right now."
Tom gently grabbed hold of his m
other's arm. The pain in his head was unbearable, and again his mother was left with a bunch of hair between her fingers when she let go.
"It hurts me!!!"
"Shut up!" She spat and, with her hand very open, slapped his face. Tom turned his face violently to the side to counter what he saw coming, and the glasses peeled off his face and crashed against the wall. There was a dull crash when a glass broke.
"Momma" it was the word that Tom managed to say without stuttering, and would get worse later on.
Marked fingers were drawn immediately on Tom's cheek as irregular and petty shapes, and an excruciating pain filled him completely.
Tom was about to get pissed off.
"Now go in the bathroom" his mother ordered, with a contemptuous air, pointing to the hallway with a long, bony finger.
Tom glanced at her in terror and uncertainty.
Was that normal, getting a smack every damn morning? He asked himself with clumsy thoughts.
"I said go in the bathroom!" His mother cried angrily.
Tom ducked his head and strode down the corridor after giving an innocent and empty look at his mother.
"What's the matter now? You jerk!"
"Nuh... nothing, momma."
Tom resumed his slow, awkward gait as he lowered his shorts with one hand. When he had them at knee height, he almost fell face down on the floor.
His mother watched him all the way through the short journey, until Tom turned to the right and down the stairs, her eyes wide and hysterical.
"Tom!!!That's not the way to the bathroom!" His mother barked, the veins around her neck about to explode. The yell traveled and crashed against the wall of the room, and bounced like the blast wave of a huge explosion, echoing.
Tom suddenly stopped three steps down, shrugging his shoulders with a strange, faint grimace on his face.
"I know, momma" Tom muttered, his heart in a fist. A huge, good-natured man's body reduced to a scab by the irony of his mother.
"You know I don't want you to wash in the basin below" his mother stared down the hallway as if glimpsing Tom's trembling shadow on the floor. “I want you to shower in the tub!" It was an order, concise and severe. "I want you to shower or I'll beat you up" a familiar voice would say.
Tom´s Story Page 3