Long Timothee Chalamet Stories

The Orphan Maker (P15)

Info - serial killer Timothée, kidnapping, giving birth, being scared, Trauma dumping, graphic descriptions of abuse from parents such as malnourishment, beating, breaking bones, handcuffing to bed, throwing things at child, neglect, and denying education, fear and worry, toxic relationship, stalking, psychopathy, murder, arson, sexual assault mentioned but not detailed, switching POVs

Timothée's POV

I had to pull myself together. I locked down the house correctly, telling Sara what had happened. I was rushing y/n to the hospital, but it was hard to breathe because she wouldn't let me hold her hand.

"Please," I begged as we pulled into the hospital parking lot. "Please be my loving fiancé again, just until the baby is out. I need to be here for you. It isn't a want, it is completely and one hundred percent a need. If I can't take care of you, comfort you, and help the woman I adore I think I'll explode."

She looked at me for a long moment, and silently took my hand.

Readers POV

Timothée had said he needed me, well it turned out I needed him as well. I felt helpless as the doctors instructed me. I had always wanted kids, but this pregnancy had been very unplanned. I'd been caught up in the whirlwind of Timothée's love, then the horror of his actions, then running, and finally bliss filled days full of attending to other people's children. I hadn't really considered birth. This was scary.

"Timothée, you're here right?" I asked as I began to push.

"I'm here angel, I'm here," he kissed my temple and I calmed.

"You can do it, you're the bravest, strongest person I know," he murmured in my ear. I teared up, and not from the pain. Why couldn't he have been normal? Why didn't he wine and dine me like another man would have. Why did he impregnate me on our first time? Why did he steal peoples children and obsess over me?

"You wouldn't love him this much if he was any other way. You're just as smitten, you just like it easy, and he knows things are hard," said the voice in my head.

"I'm sorry," I gasped to him as I pushed.

"Whatever for" he asked, putting his arm around me as best he could.

"I shouldn't have freaked out on you. I know you've had a hard past."

"I can tell you about it later, focus on you right now," he urged. Finally, the baby was out, and just as I had suspected, it was a girl.

"I never really considered middle names," I mused, as I stared at perfect little Angel in my arms. She looked a lot like me, which Timothée was over the moon about. I felt a bit sad she didn't look more like him.

"Do you have a relative you'd like to pick to name her after?" I asked. He made a horrified face.

"Oh yeah," I whispered.

"Both my parents were rich and only children. If I told my grandparents what they did, they made excuses. I never had any aunts or uncles to relieve me. I was isolated most of the time. They told the state I had a private tutor, but I didn't."

"Oh Timothée, I'm so sorry," I said, brushing his arm.

"They wanted a girl I think, but they were both so damaged they would've probably treated a girl the same way. They were sadistic. They had money to burn and didn't care about being good parents, in fact they resented me."

"That sounds really hard," I said, he only looked down at Angel, his jaw set. I knew he was determining to never be like them.

"They would chain me to the bed, or lock me in a closet with a diaper and no food. I felt disgusting infantile. I tried to read whenever I could so that I could get some learning in, but if they found me they'd throw the books at my head and insult me. I probably have a super low IQ."

"I doubt that, you seem very intelligent to me. You'd have to be to do what you do I think. I think you'd be caught otherwise," I looked around carefully, but no one was here.

"I started to cope writing stories in my head where I was the hero. I realized if I stayed out of the house, they wouldn't come looking for me to chain me to a bed while they had raging parties," he explained. "I became a bit of a hellion. I'd steal supplies, I'd always get the belt later, but I didn't care. I'd sleep outside for days, writing my stories on pieces of paper I'd brought, or bark if I could. Once I was found and the woman didn't believe I wasn't a homeless child and called the police. My parents paid them off because I showed signs of severe malnutrition and abuse. They nearly killed me that night. They broke my bones and my fort and they didn't take me to the doctor. I was glad that they chained me to a bed the next day, because I could hardly walk."

"This is absolutely horrific," I said, tears pouring from my eyes. I touched his face.

"You can still touch me after I've told you this?"

"Baby, you're not rotten or soiled. What they did was barbaric. You deserve good and beautiful things. You are so lovely. You really are like an Angel and they tried to break your wings."

His lip trembled. He put his face to my chest, beside his baby girl, and wept. He cried for a long time. I had a feeling he hadn't let himself grieve his childhood properly. He'd cried when I left, but not about this, and now he was backed up.

"I decided the next night that the moment I turned 18, I would kill them. So I set a fire, and played victim. I wish they had known it was me. But they were both passed out. It looked like a lit cigarette accident. I was fine, lonely, but fine, until I saw my grandmother on tv. Apparently some girls had started coming out about my father, and she was trying to smooth it over. I think you know what I mean?"

"I do," I said in disgust.

"Well he was dead so there wasn't much to do about it, but that was my trigger. I needed to save little boys and girls from what I went through. It was miserable work, seeing all the pain, but it was nice to have company, and be with the sweet children. That's when I saw you, and like I said, my world gained color. Finally, I knew I had a soulmate out there. I had always wanted a wife and kids but I didn't think it would ever be a possibility for me. Then you came along and blew my world apart."

"I love you baby, and I love Angel, and I'm so happy to be yours," I said gently.

"But this is what you meant isn't it," he said with a frown. "This all looks picturesque right now, but you're right, we have a problem. That's why I freaked out, I don't want our kids to be uneducated and lonely like me. I don't want to be like my parents."

"You aren't at all like your parents, but we do need to think of something. Perhaps if we moved to a different country," I mused.

"I may be of some help with that," said a voice. Both our hearts dropped as we saw a female doctor, that appeared to have heard what we were talking about. Timothée looked like a cornered animal, and I held him and Angel tighter.