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I move in beside him and take the whip he hands me.
“Don’t be nervous, angel. You’ve got this.”
“I know.”
We exchange a soft smile, and then we drop to our knees.
Alistair starts the roll call, and I slam my eyes shut, just letting my instincts guide me.
“South?”
One.
The lash hits my back, and I flinch, clenching my jaw tightly.
“Present.”
“West?”
Two.
Oww.
“Present.”
“East?”
Three.
Fuck.
“Present.”
“True North?”
“Present.”
Four.
Fuck this for a game of soldiers.
“North? Present.”
The whip hits my back for the fifth time, and I’m ready to call it a day.
Raising my hand, I let it fly over my shoulder to strike myself for the sixth time.
Four more.
Please let it end.
Breathing in deeply, I whip myself for the seventh time. My back is burning, the muscles bunched up against the pain.
Two more.
Not doing this again.
One more.
