another victim
The child feels now more than ever in his whole miserable life the need for a voice, for the ability to speak, scream, shout.
A deformity of his palate and upper lips has made it impossible for him to do more than grunt or moan. His mouth, his wretched mouth.
He opens it and tries to bite the man, as hard as he can, through his shirt. But it is difficult to find a good spot on the flesh of the other party's back.
Finally, he arches his neck far enough to be able to sink his teeth into a portion of the man's arm, just above his elbow.
He puts all his fear and terror and years of hunger and dampness and deprivation into this bite. Maybe this time his mouth will serve him.
Still, the man walks on, unflinching, towards a deserted place where no one would be able to see him once he started working on his deed.
The place where Dennis Santibanez brought his next victim had an air that was filled with a musty smell.