[Authorīs note: Anybody still there? This stuff may be a bit out of place in the Archive, but I couldnīt think of anywhere else to get rid of it :0). If youīre reading this, please let me know if this storyīs stretching the limits too far. Variety is usually a good thing but could also become a nuisance. >>>>>>>>>>Paul]
I felt naked already, walking in front of all of them. I tried to convince myself that smashing Robbie to smithereens was worth the 50 and double that, too, and maybe it was, but I still wasnīt too keen on paying the price. We reached the punishment room and there was some heavy organizing for a while, making space for twelve apprentices and six screws, and in the end more than half of them had to stand in the hallway. Mr Donovan was doing the body work on me, mr Jackson took care of the rest, ordering me to strip and kneel and then reading me all the bull_s_h_i_t_, quoting my confession, too. I didnīt object. I rose and bent over the frame like a _f_u_c_k_ing zombie, even making it easier for mr Jackson to get the straps right by adjusting my limbs, all the time thinking, "god, whatīs become of me, this is _f_u_c_k_ing crazy, letting anybody do this to me", and I knew I had to get out of here fast because this place would kill me little by little, kill the spirit within me, reduce me to a nobody.
"Payback time, then, Jennings", mr Donovan said. "Ready to receive your punishment?"
"I am, sir", I said, wondering what would happen if I said no.
"Start counting."
"Yes, sir. One, sir."
He tested the whip twice before he hit and I tried to ignore the sound but my body reacted by wanting to get the hell out of there, and because it couldnīt, it just kept twitching and tensing and trembling. I had to make alliance with Me to ride this out. In some stupid way, knowing that all the guys, including Robbie, were watching made me stronger. I knew exactly where Robbie had placed himself, on the front row by the wall, and I imagined I even could hear him breathing, the air whining down his narrow throat. Iīll get your ass for this, you _f_u_c_k_er, just wait for it.
The whip lashed out, causing the familiar pain to shoot through my existence. My head was turned to the left and I focused on mr Jacksonīs belt buckle, shutting my right eye, thanking mr Donovan and calling out the next, it was an elaborate buckle with a bike motive, the HD wings on the upper half, a beautiful classic shovelhead below it, thank you sir, three, sir, you could even see details and I named some of them from the front wheel, front fork, front fender, front drum brakes, thank you, sir, four, sir, working my way backwards, thank you, sir, five, sir, and sweat was already running down my face and I had to rub it against my arm and right then I had number five and had to clench my teeth and focus back on the buckle, thank you, sir, six, sir - _s_h_i_t_, Iīll never make it, yes you will, youīll ride through the valley of death on that shovelhead - gas tank, pet_c_o_c_k_, saddle, thank you, sir, seven, sir, the rear fender, the tail lights - oh _s_h_i_t_, _s_h_i_t_, that hurt - rear wheel, rear drum brake, thank you, sir, eight, sir, and I was doing beautifully, my mind far away, my body coping allright, and I focused on the engine, thank you, sir, nine, sir, my eyes were watering and I had to blink a couple of times, FRONT CYLINDER, rear cylinder, shovelheads, thank you, sir, ten, sir, exhaust pipes, mufflers, not too heavy, just enough to smooth the edges of the beautiful rumble - god, this is awful - thank you, sir, and mr Jackson disappeared from view and I heard him ordering a break. For a while I felt lost and dazed, deprived of the buckle. My heart was beating rhythmically, not too fast, the pain yet bearable. I moved my ass slightly, it hurt but no big deal, the worst was yet to come, and I quickly erased and rewound. I could hear low talking behind me but couldnīt make out what it was about, and I also still could hear the stupid _f_u_c_k_er wheeze.
"Ready to get on with it, Jennings?"
Mr Jacksonīs voice. So theyīd take turns, well, that had to be. Mr Donovan positioned himself to my left. He had an ordinary belt with an ordinary clasp.
"I am, sir."
"Remember what comes next?"
"Yes, sir. Eleven, sir."
"Good boy."
Carburetor, air cleaner JESUS, please, no air cleaner the hell with it, and I was back to reality, gasping from the new pain. The magic was gone. The HD sign flapped its wings and flew off.
"Thank you, sir. Twelve, sir."
"As you wish, Jennings."
It hurt like hell, but still I could take it, muscles tensing and slowly relaxing, getting ready for the next, my voice still steady as I obediently thanked him and counted the numbers, sweat flowing, eyes watering - in a minute Iīll start snivelling - and I did, thank you, sir (sniff), fifteen, sir (sniff), and he was slowly working his way through my shell, getting to the inner me, the hell he would, mr Donovan would draw the first howl from me, not him. Then the pain cut through me for real and I had to groan, screaming inside my head _s_h_i_t_, please stop, please, but keeping it there for the time being. Thank you, sir (sniff), pause (sniff), eighteen, sir, and then impact and this canīt be for real, another 32 to go god, please kill me, I wonīt do anything bad again, just let me die - (sniff), thank you, s-s-sir - I canīt take anymore, the pain just goes on and on, Iīm not even through half of it yet, GOD, please, no more
"Fallen asleep, Jennings?"
"N-no, sir, sorry, sir. Nineteen, sir."
"OK. This will keep you awake."
Every muscle tense and alert, waiting, dreading the new blinding white blizzard of pain, it was impossible to relax anymore, and there it came and it couldnīt be, I couldnīt remember the pain being that fierce, something had to be wrong. I was squirming to get rid of it but no dice, thank you, sir - _f_u_c_k_ing creep, please make it stop - TWENTY, SIR - just get on with it, just kill me, for _f_u_c_k_īs sake - and the snivelling was constant by now, snot flowing freely, wetting my face, mixing with tear fluid and sweat, and the whip cut into me again - donīt do this to me, PLEASE - groaning didnīt ease it - nothing helps
"Whatīs the matter now, Jennings? Cat got your tongue?"
There was some cautious giggling. _f_u_c_k_ all of you. I took a couple of deep breaths, trembling all over, ass throbbing and aching like hellfire.
"S-s-s-sorry, sir. Thank you, sir." He had another stupid _f_u_c_k_ing comment to that, but I managed to ignore it.
Mr Donovan asked if I wanted some water, and I nodded and said yes, please, sir, and my voice was trembling, too. I had a sip of lukewarm tap water through a straw and it made me want to puke, but I thanked him anyway because noone had ever offered me water before.
Mr Jackson was back, but I didnīt care about the buckle anymore. All I cared for was seeing the end of this. I even tried to think I deserved it, but I couldnīt buy that because I didnīt. Robbie deserved what he got. Mr Jackson beat me up and I could accept that as a punishment for breaking the rules, but not this, no way. This was to satisfy Robbie, to let him have a controlled revenge on me, and to make an example for the rest, keep in line or itīs your ass up there next. It didnīt have much to do with me.
"Ready to continue, Jennings?"
Time passed swiftly at breaks and seemed extended into eternity during the punishment sequences. I snivelled, swallowed and shook my head to clear my mind.
"I am, sir. Twenty-one, sir."
Thatīs where my self control ended. I didnīt scream out, but I could feel myself letting go, not able to struggle anymore and let on pain didnīt bother me, because it _f_u_c_k_ing did. Iīd long since forgotten all about the others watching. To me, this was a matter between four people, the two doing the whipping, Robbie and me. I had an unbelievable 30 left and there was no way I could endure that, maintaining control over myself. I just wanted to avoid crying like a kid in front of him. Anything but tears and begging. Everybody knew getting through this was a _f_u_c_k_ing horror. Nobody expected me to be a _f_u_c_k_ing Superman. I heard the Metallica concert audience shout DIE DIE DIE DIE and I was right there among them, yeah, thatīs right, die you _f_u_c_k_er -
"Come on, Jennings. Youīre missing your line."
"..........sorry, sir. Thank you, sir." God, Iīd lost track. Twenty-two? Asking would be embarrassing. "Twenty-two, sir."
"Lousy maths. One up."
"Twenty-three, sir." How the _f_u_c_k_ could that be? Maybe Iīd accidentally dicovered the secret of being invulnerable, like in the movies. But this wasnīt a movie and number 23 tore me apart, like if the previous lash didnīt catch up until then, and I groaned heavily, _f_u_c_k_ you, Robbie the Rapist, Robbie Necrophiliac, whatever you are, DIE DIE DIE -
Then groaning wasnīt enough anymore. I howled my way through the next seven, losing my breath in the end but still screaming inside. I intensely wanted to beg for mercy, this was too much . Iīve learned my lesson now, sir, Iīll behave from now on, I wonīt cause any more trouble, please, sir, Iīll stick to the rules, cross my heart. I clenched my teeth not to let any of it out. Twenty to go. The worst was done. No, wrong, the worst is to come. Fear made my heart jump and beat rapidly. Maybe Iīd die right here. Then Iīd never have another whipping. I had to swallow over and over again not to start bawling.
"Ready to get on with your punishment, Jennings?"
I tried to stifle the sobs of despair that suddenly cut through my withering defense, but this was gone too far and I was too affected by now. I was supposed to say yes, sir, but inside, I was already screaming with pain. I had to remind myself that everybody was right there, watching me.
"Yes, sir." It didnīt have a convincing ring to it. I tried to get the next number out of my mouth, but all I managed was to hold back the disgraceful sobbing.
"Well, then?"
Theyīd laugh at me behind my back for being a pussy if I freaked out now.
"Thi-hirty-one, sir." Everybody cried. Iīd seen at least five of them do it. Unix. Even Bear.
But Iīm different.
Like hell you are.
Pain again, worse than ever. I was tugging at the straps, banging my forehead against the frame, sobbing, knowing I had to go on. Iīd be here for ever if I didnīt.
"Tha-hank you, sir." God, just let me die. "Thirty-uh-two, sir."
Close to 40 I was sobbing so badly I couldnīt call the numbers out straight. At times I wasnīt even able to remember why I was being punished. Mr Jackson didnīt call it off, though. He seemingly interpreted the sounds from me as valid enough, but he didnīt comment on them, or if he did I didnīt hear him. During the last break the sobbing eventually subsided, like I was past any civilized human feelings. I donīt remember how I got through the last ten, but my throat was raw afterwards. I had bruises and sores on my wrists and around my ankles from the straps, and they stayed for nearly a fortnight. I was left strapped to the frame for an eternity. A while ago Iīd heard the screws ordering the guys back to the day room, and the room turned very silent. Theyīd just left me here. OK with me, I didnīt want to move around right now anyway. I tried to breathe calmly but for some reason that opened up the tear ducts all over again. Blood oozed down my legs like slow worms.
I can't remember anything
Can't tell if this is true or dream
Deep down inside I feel to scream
This terrible silence stops me
Now that the war is through with me
I'm waking up, I can not see
That there's not much left of me
Nothing is real but pain now
Hold my breath as I wish for death
Oh please God, wake me
Iīd hardly ever cried until I came to Crowmill. Iīd experienced a lot of physical pain through life and always handled it well. No anaesthetics at the dentistīs or when I was stitched up, and there were times when that happened frequently. I had my eyebrow, nose, ears, lower lip and left nipple pierced, just for the hell of it, the nipple was tough but I wasnīt even close to showing any reaction, and when I chose my tattoos I picked out the blackest ones, because tattooing black hurts more. That kind of pain was intoxicating, _s_e_x_ual, sensual, even. I had a choice back then. I still didnīt believe the crap about pain as a teacher, but it had brought on changes in me, or maybe fear was the agent, I couldnīt tell. Having a sore ass belonged to my everyday life, as inevitable as death, still I couldnīt accept being punished, it was just as _f_u_c_k_ing awful each time, and I couldnīt accept the crying, either. Pain alone didnīt make me cry. Combined with humiliation, fear and unfairness, it tore me to pieces. Yes, I did feel sorry for myself, anyone would. This wasnīt even humane. Bet the UN would have a few things to say. Or Amnesty International.
Mr Donovan was back, unstrapping me. He told me to get off the frame and I did, slowly and painfully. I didnīt have to kneel.
"Feel allright standing?" he asked.
"Yes, sir." I wasnīt dizzy, if thatīs what he was asking about, but I sure as hell didnīt feel allright, either.
"Off to the corner, then. Put on your tee and shirt."
Iīd almost forgotten about it. For a moment I pondered refusing, but the outer me silently obeyed and shuffled off to be put through the final disgrace. I carefully touched my butt on the way, Iīd seen the other guys do it and mr Donovan said nothing of it. It felt hot and blistered and touching caused new stings of pain where the skin had been tattered.
Everybody was assembled in the day room, seemingly occupied with the usual stuff reading, doing homework, small talking. I forced myself to look at every single one of them. Robbie got the evil eye, and it very obviously affected him.
It was my first time in a corner. Iīd been told to do it at school a couple of times, but I always refused or ran off, and nothing happened. Being eighteen and having to stand bareassed with your nose to the wall and your hands on your head is downright degrading. It didnīt produce the effect intended. I wasnīt ashamed, I was pissed off. And I finally got the bright idea Iīd been searching for the past six weeks, I went over it again and again and decided it would work. Had to wait for my ass to heal, though. Had to behave like an angel to avoid any more of this. Had to get Robbies ass before I sailed, too. I hoped JD would be back soon, he probably had some ideas of his own on that matter.
I made good use of that hour and thinking hard about these things also took my mind off the physical circumstances. Pain actually was an excellent teacher, but not in the way mr Jackson believed it to be. Physical pain forced me to seek refuge within myself, doing a lot of strategy work, and if anything positive was to be said about CP, it activated my creativity.
Lockup was at 8 as usual. They kept me in the corner until the rest of the guys were through with their bedtime rituals, then mr Donovan walked me to the shower room to clean myself up and get ready for bed. I had to hold on to mr Donovanīs arm to keep my balance when pissing because I couldnīt sit down. No matter how hard I tried I couldnīt _f_u_c_k_ing figure out why they wouldnīt let me ease myself standing up. Four months ago, Iīd rather have died from urine poisoning. Not all changes are for the better. I once read a book about Japan, probably in custody because I never cared much about Asia, maybe the chicks but theyīre better displayed on the Net than in a _f_u_c_k_ing book, well, anyway the book said that because the Japanese live crammed like tinned sardines - in the old times the walls of the houses even were made of _f_u_c_k_ing rice paper and there was no privacy whatsoever - they had to hide within themselves, making secret rooms where their selves stayed intact no matter what happened in the outside world . Thatīs why we westeners think theyīre so _f_u_c_k_ing odd, smiling all the time, excusing themselves like they think theyīre nothing but crap heaps, when we know through history that theyīre actually a bunch of bloodthirsty, highstrung bastards. The outer them isnīt important, itīs just kind of a fancy dress costume, tricking others into thinking theyīre harmless and a bit stupid, but the inner them want to launch the _f_u_c_k_ing neutron bomb on the rest of the world and breed all over the globe. Well, as interesting as this is *leer* Iīm missing my point, which is that Crowmill had sort of turned me Japanese, too. They tried to whip their way into my mind, but pain had made my inner self build concrete walls around the Me within.
At least I hoped they were made of concrete. Could _f_u_c_k_ing well explain the headache I still had.
Mr Donovan followed me to my room and stayed while I undressed, put on my grey striped flannel pyjamas and got into bed. Then he turned off the lights and told me Iīd better shape up from now on, and sleep well, then. I said good night, sir, and added "and _f_u_c_k_ you, too" under my breath.