"ANSWER MY QUESTION ELLIE," THE bitchy woman implores, "why did you do it?" She stares at me intensely, feigning interest in my response.
The beautiful animal paintings on the blue wall suddenly don't make the room feel as warm and welcoming. Neither does the mid morning sunlight that is streaming inside the small nursery room. We both know that there's nothing that I can say that will exempt me from the punishment.
I've been here before. Played this game before. I know that I can't save myself but I try regardless, "I-, I thought..."
She interrupts me, "you THOUGHT?"
I can't help but be taken aback by the question and the resounding anger in her voice. Filled with confusion, I try and reply, "Yes, I-"
She interrupts me again, "you thought that it was okay to disobey us? You thought that what you did was biblical? You thought instead of obeying and following orders?
I tense my jaw, my hands balling into fists. I don't understand what is happening. I'm at a loss for words. I don't dare to speak because I know it will be fruitless. I can't seem to reason with these people. I never can.
"Follow me," she says. "I think a trip to the copier room is in order."
I can taste the bile that is in the back of my throat as I follow her through the staff room leading to the copier room.
My heart is hammering against my chest. Each step forward making my head spin that little bit more. I try to distract my mind from the suffocating darkness and pain that is awaiting me. I fight to drown out my frustration and panic.
Fear swells inside me nonetheless and nothing I do can quieten it.
I bow my head out of shame as some of the staff watch us. There's a silence that affirms they know where I'm going and what's going to happen. Some part of me wishes someone would speak up. Prevent the punishment. Save me.
But they don't. No one dares speak. Some aren't even glancing towards our direction. While others look at me with such uppity.
I'm like a lamb being led to the slaughter.
Tears prick my ears but I don't allow them to fall. Not yet. I must've done something terrible this time. I couldn't risk asking because I have learnt from experience that it is better not to argue with the staff, especially Miss Imani. She is the pastor's wife. No one dared question her.
We finally reach the dreaded room and after she's done unlocking the door, she says "wait here," and goes back towards the direction of the staff room.
I step inside the copier room as they call it. It is a small and stuffy room, filled with one functioning photocopy machine and other broken down equipment like computers and type writers. There's also a wooden barricade separating the original room into 2, making the copier room all the more small and claustrophobic.
My heart is beating faster than usual and the lack of ventilation does not help. I try to mentally prepare myself for what's next. I remain standing as I find it quite impossible to sit or relax.
I hear a couple of faint footsteps that become stronger which each footfalls, making my heart beat that much faster.
Reinforcements. She's brought reinforcements.
I resentfully look at her as they all enter the room filling up the tiny space.
~ ~ ~
"Turn around and place your hands on the table," Mr Milan spits the words out as if they were poison, no 'words of encouragement' this time. They mean business.
He appraises me with icy black eyes.
He is a tall man, not sure of his exact height, but definitely 6 plus feet, which made him appear more scary.
He has a cold, stony expression and an even harder demeanor. The Pastor had recently promoted him to deacon status. He is a leader in the church and it made my stomach knot. I have never warmed to him. Not only did he have more power now, but he is also cruel. He swans through the school tormenting others and making women feel uncomfortable in the name of joking. I hate him so much.
I've never been one to plead with them, because I know my pleas will fall on deaf ears. And I refuse to give them the satisfaction.
He strongly grips the wooden paddle with his right hand, which was the dominant one. "You'll learn to obey the hard way," he mutters before he strikes me.
