AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I have to withstand the beating like a ship surprised by a hurricane on the open sea. Holding the course. Dodging razor-sharp cliffs lurking beneath the surface of meter-high waves.
And then the most important thing:
Don’t sink.
Not lettingherwin.
Nevertheless, the pain penetrates my armor. Sporadically at first, but then I feel how the shielding plates of my armor crack. Piece by piece they crumble away, falling to the ground and exposing my body defenselessly to the attack.
I pull my head between my shoulder blades and crawl under the desktop on which her files are stacked accurately to the millimeter.
Shesnorts, knowing full well she would destroy her order if she struck now.
The respite I buy with this doesn’t last long. Two breaths, three, four? But it’s worth it; once again I can mobilize my defenses against the torture.
Herfingernails, manicured into claws, leave bloody traces across my skin whenshegrabs me by the polo shirt.
But I feel no pain.
The collar chokes me underherhard grip. The top button pops open, then the bottom one too.
In my head, the clouds of the spray of my thoughts are blazing up, but as much as I throw myself into the whirlpools: I can’t think of what I could have done to triggerherparticularly pronounced rage today. Instead of the prescribed 75 minutes, I practiced a full hour and a half on the grand piano in the music room today.
Dad sat there with his Bordeaux glass full to the brim, noted the beginning, and…
The solid tricot fabric tears. I get air again and my brain clears.
…the wine…
I’m so stupid. Dad must have been too drunk to remember to write down the end of my etudes…
Nowshepushes aside the shreds of my shirt. She digs her nails deep into my skin and drags me out of my improvised refuge. Only on the antique Persian Silk carpet in the middle of her study does she release me…
…only to unleash the first of the much too well-aimed belt blows on me.
For a few seconds, I feel hatred for my father. But I can’t afford this luxury for long.
Emotions amplify my sense of pain like the capacitors of the high-end system in the music room.
What I need now is every shred of self-control.
The leather of the belt leaves a burning welt on my back.
I take a short breath, then the second blow lands. The third, fourth.
She’s gotten pretty damn fast lately, and without losing any of her aim or power.
My jaw clenches; I try to become one with the knotted silk fibers under my hands. Dead as the caterpillars, thrown alive into boiling water, while slumbering in their cocoon towards metamorphosis.
The pain penetrates the shell of my self-hypnosis, and I bite the inside of my lips so as not to let any sound pass over them.
Because every whining sound will only incite even more pain…
Herblows now patter down on me almost in time with my heartbeat. They hit skin already battered to death.
A strange feeling of relaxation, and at the same time the increase of pain, flashes through me. Through my nostrils gasps a moan—and I know, the next blow will make the skin on my swollen back burst open, stretched to the breaking point…
Dam, da-dam-dam; dam, da-dam-dam…The rhythmic pounding of a drum kit slams into my indefinable state between dream and reality.
