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Se Que Hoy Está Pagando Sus Males - Una Historias Que Te Helará La Sangre - Voces De La Noche · Niebla en el bosque con Evelith von

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My name is Jorge González and I am from Tehuacán, Puebla. I was
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at that time sixteen years old and my brother Edward was twenty- one when
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the facts that I am about to share happened. Well, I start by
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saying that the story I' m going to tell is very strong and sad.
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There is no happy ending or at least so I see it just one
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end and now, but it' s something that marked a before and after
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in my family' s life. We all know how important a father is
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in the lives of children and even his wife, for he is the one
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who protects his family at any cost. But we also know that there are
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parents who, out of their selfishness, leave their families behind and, instead
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of giving them protection, turn their lives into hell. My story is more
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focused on those kinds of cases. It was early in the morning when we
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were awakened by the cries of our parents as s s. S. Stins,
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screaming and insulting himself as usual. Only now to a greater degree,
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Eduardo and I got up from our beds and went to their room to ask
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them, please, to finish the fight. It was at that very moment
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when we entered when Dad hit our mother. There was no need to do
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anything else. When my father saw us in there, he just said a
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sentence before he left there and went to the living room to sleep on the
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couch He said that our mother had been unfaithful to him and that he would
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not tolerate that. My brother and I stayed with Mom, who was crying
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out for the truth. I don' t know very well what I felt
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at the time. On the one hand, I was disappointed by her and,
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on the other, I felt a terrible anger at my father for treating
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her like this, although it was not uncommon, because my father always beat
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her when he had a chance or any wrong pretext to us stopped hitting us
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when we were fifteen years old, when we could already defend the truth.
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After that, his aggressiveness dropped a little because he knew he couldn' t
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do it anymore, because we already had the strength. That' s why
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we had a big grudge against him. Anyway, we unwind with my mom
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trying to comfort her by making her hot tea. It wasn' t long
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before real terror started at home. It was almost noon when a coworker brought
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my father in. We were scared as he had had an accident, as
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a spine that had to demolish fell on him, hit his upper ankle and
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fractured him. The bones took him to the hospital, where they treated him
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and put plaster on his leg and that' s when they took him home.
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It' s strange what I' m going to say, but my
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father started having different attitudes and behaviors than normal. He looked nervous, sore,
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despite the painkillers he consumed, and I even dare say that he sometimes
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noticed him fearful as if he were afraid of something. Certainly, my brother
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Eduardo and I did not have a good relationship with him. At that point,
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it' s more than just talking to him from time to time,
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only if necessary, because he had beaten my mother. Still, I tried
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to get close so I could talk to him, thinking that way I could
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know what was really happening to him. And it was then that he told
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me that he was afraid to die, that he saw death at night and
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that a sorcerer had told him that he was being witchcrafted. And that'
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s why all that stuff happened to him. I was surprised to hear that
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and more when I noticed that I had wet eyes and shaking hands, I
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asked him to calm down, that no one was witching him and that soon
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he would get better, so they eat r to work again. Just like
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that and throwing a laugh. I assured him that he did not want death,
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so he had to stop worrying about it, as he had many years
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to live. That night she lay on her bed alone, as my mother
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had been sleeping in a room for a long time that we had set for
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her, by that time, she was already more relaxed. I had already
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stopped going out at night to go to my Aunt Mari' s house like
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I used to, and that gave us a guarantee that she already felt better.
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But of course, for obvious reasons, it was evident that my father
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’ s situation affected him in one way or another. I went to talk
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to my brother and told him what my father had told me, but he
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reacted in a very strange way. He smiled and told me that my father
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deserved everything that was happening to him and that if death was going to visit
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him that I wish he would do that and take him away. One good
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time he said he deserved the worst. I kept quiet. The last thing
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I wanted was to argue with my brother. Needless to say, it was
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obvious to leagues that my father had a grudge over how he changed in those
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last years, especially because of the mistreatment of his side towards us, because
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it is worth mentioning that my father many times before had already beaten my mother
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and that for no reason, and even to us just because he had had
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bad days, and that is why we had a lot of grudges and that
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is why my mother had surely been unfaithful to him. Anyway, it was
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the next day when my father was screaming in pain, which is why we
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had to take him to the emergency clinic. But when the doctor told us
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what he was going through, it made us feel chills, as we saw
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it ourselves with our own eyes. Something indistinguishing science was happening to my father
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without being able to believe it and understand it. The doctor took his cast
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out to check his leg, as that was where the pain came from,
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and felt an inevitable repulsion when he saw the state of my father. He
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was rotting. The area had it black, something that was impossible. On
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the other hand, he discovered dozens of hives spread over his back, something
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we never realized. The doctor tried to clean the hives, passing a piece
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of alcohol cotton and at that moment, they began to fire a nauseous but
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powerful smell unbearable for those who could smell it. Meanwhile, my father was
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screaming in pain. He threw curses at the doctor asking him what the hell
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he was doing to get him to leave him alone. I felt a icy
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air running through my body when I saw tears falling from his eyes. To
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be honest, that was the first time I saw him cry like that.
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They were tears of suffering, his his his pol. The condition was not
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torturing in an enormous way. They managed to put him to sleep and only
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then he stopped suffering. However, his torment was not yet over. That
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night I told my mother that I' d stay and take care of him.
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She and my brother came home and I sat in a chair in front
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of my father' s bed. After a few minutes, the doctor came
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back to check that everything was in order. Seeing my mother was gone,
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he asked me to talk to him for a few minutes outside the room.
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He told me that there was nothing to help them know what my father had,
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that the flesh in his leg was useless and should be removed as quickly
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as possible, or at least that' s what he planned to do.
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But it was already late, because that unknown disease was affecting the rest of
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the leg and it would not take long to expand throughout the body, so,
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together with other colleagues, they had made a decision in in and in
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all. Then he sighed and told me that they were going to amputate his
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leg enough so that there was no sign of the infection. Only in that
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way would they save his life and as for what was going on in his
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back would they give him some antibiotics and all the treatments they thought could help
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him hear it. Saying that left me paralyzed. I never thought it would
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be such a big deal to see my father suffer, but I didn'
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t think his life depended on a thread. However, I didn' t
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hesitate for a second. I told the doctor that they would do what they
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had to do and that when my mother came in the morning, she would
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sign all the necessary papers. I haven' t said the last word yet.
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When the silence of the night was abruptly interrupted by my father' s
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cry. We both ran into the room. Both the doctor and I,
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my dad was wallowing on the bed looking at a fixed address in one of
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the corners. It was only a few moments before we realized that he was
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not really screaming in pain, but in fear, as his words confirmed it.
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He said that death was there, that he was going to take it,
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that we would, please, take it out. From there he was
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screaming horrified as expected, and the doctor turned a deaf ear to what he
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had said. My father asked me, please, quickly to hold him as
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long as I could while preparing an injection of painkillers to sleep him again.
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But I couldn' t be indifferent to that. I turned my eyes towards
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where my father was pointing there. Then I understood that his words should have
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been taken literally and not as if they were occurrences or hallucinations of him.
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Right where I was pointing there was something I' ll never forget. A
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spectrum of impressive size. His head was barely a few inches away from the
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tea His uncompromising figure looked like a thin man. It was covered with a
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mantle with the same dark intensity that reached the ground. I didn' t
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have a face or at least I wasn' t able to perceive it.
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The truth is that just seeing him caused me to run through my veins a
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terrifying terror never experienced Little by little, my father stopped screaming and also moving.
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Once he stood still, I saw him with his eyes closed. Finally,
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the medicine had acted again. However, nothing in the world would take
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away from me the fear I felt when I saw that hellish form, which
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disappeared out of nowhere. Seconds later, at one point, I thought I
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' d ask the doctor if he' d seen her, but since she
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was still acting normal and she was just focused, my father implied that she
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wasn' t a witness to anything. I was dying again, but I
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didn' t prove it. I went out with him doctor and talked for
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a few minutes outside until he left to return to his occupations. Honestly,
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I stayed in the hallway for over an hour without encouraging myself to go back
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into that room. When Eduardo and my mother arrived early. Fortunately, the
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doctor was still at the clinic, so he told them the same thing as
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I did. Before he left. My mother was sad to tears, but
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my brother, on the other hand, was insensitive to the situation. A
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week later, Dad was already home with us, but his condition, far
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from improving after the operation, looked worse and worse. His skin was pale
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in a matter of days. The hair began to come off his head on
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its own and every time we had to bathe him. It was a real
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ordeal, because not only did he stop screaming in pain, but because we
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saw frightened as his body was becoming a corpse I saw seeing came a time
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when the medications and the painkillers already took effect. Therefore, he woke up
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at any time and began to suffer. Sometimes he said death was in there
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with him. I trembled with fear every time I heard him say that,
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for I knew perfectly what he meant. One night I came home apparently without
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anyone noticing, as when I was arriving in the kitchen I heard Eduardo and
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Mom were arguing. More than once. He said someone was doing him witchcraft
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and we should look for help in that kind of people. After all,
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the doctors said they can' t do anything anymore. And then my brother
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told my mother that no one was doing sorcery to Dad, that he was
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only paying for all the damage he did because he had humiliated them and beaten
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them and he was no longer lacking anything to go to hell. At that
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moment, in tears, my mother prayed, told him that it had been
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the one who had sent him to do witchcraft to my father because one afternoon
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when my father spoke alone and deliriously, he mentioned that he who had been
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told that he was someone very close to him. When my mother finished saying
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that, I couldn' t stand the desire to peek my head slightly so
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that I could also observe my brother' s face. When I gave him
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the answer and when he did, I was really impressed. Eduardo said that
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he had not sent to do any witchcraft work, that the truth was not
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going to waste his time talking about that nonsense, but that if it was
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true, then he thanked the person who had practiced witchcraft for my father,
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because he deserved it. Eduardo' s gaze expressed harshness, hatred of grudges,
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contrasted with my mother' s tender and desolate countenance, in whose eyes
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tears began to fall, having heard from my own brother those malicious popes wishing
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the death of our father. A total silence reigned that night. Mom,
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Eduardo and I went to rest without speaking a few words, as when they
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finished the conversation, I entered the kitchen to let him know that I had
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heard everything. Dad probably slept quietly all night. We don' t know,
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since when it dawned and we went to see him. He was already
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lifeless and that' s how hell ended up in our house. My mother
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is still here with us enjoying the grandchildren my brother and I gave her with
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our respective wives. I won' t deny it. Sometimes we get to
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talk about Dad when we remember him, but we try to keep the conversation
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on that subject from spreading too much, or else her eyes begin to moisten
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and instead my brother' s face is soaked with resentment. Finally, I
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will say that, indeed, someone did witchcraft to my father, but before
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I say who sent him to do it, I will tell you why my
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brother hated and still hates my father so much. True, Mom was unfaithful
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to Dad and he was also right when he hit her as he did for
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so many years at three, and well, I knew it was true about
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infidelity, but not as I imagined. When I discovered some messages that my
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father had with a neighbor on his phone, they were a few months ago
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and since then I started to investigate more and see more messages and photos that
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my father had on his old phone and realized that I always coordinated that my
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mother met different men until I realized the horrible reality, so I discovered his
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secret. It was my father. It was all his doing. He forced
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her to do that to keep her vices so she wouldn' t work so
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hard. My brother already knew that and that' s where his hatred came
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from. And considering that, I think my father never loved my mother,
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as he witnessed the aberration he was forcing her to do, I knew he
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didn' t deserve it. That' s why my mother suffered so much
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and we, as little as we were, never realized it, but she
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lived in hell for my father, my brother and I loved our mother and
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well, at first my father too, but after she beat and abused us
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all physically and emotionally because there was no one to defend her. And in
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those moments we did everything to defend her, and mainly my brother, who
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took it as a mockery that my father still dared to blame my mother as
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unfaithful. Of course, we never confessed anything to my mother, because it
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would have broken her heart to know that we knew what my father was doing
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and worse still she would die of sadness knowing who had haunted my father with
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death. I' m sure that today my father is paying for his ills
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and my good brother, my hand, had his reasons to send him to
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do that job. I never confronted him because, at the end of the
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day, for something he did what he did and the truth, for the
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love of a mother can be made all anonymous accounts