*Hi everyone! This scene will be broken down into two chapters, 36 and 37. Maybe one more after that so I can get some other POVs in there. I hope you all enjoy it. As always, please feel free to ask questions and/or leave comments!*
MR. DAVIS' POV:
Reaching into my side pocket, I made eye contact with him as I pulled out my keys. I had to do my best to foster the fear pounding in his chest, hopefully then he will better learn his lesson. Some tears had escaped his eyes, though he was doing a good job at putting on a tough façade. He's only been in here once, and that was months ago. Most students do not visit Room 113 more than once during their stay, but Ryan is becoming too used to being here.
A few students had gathered nearby, causing him to keep his head down in embarrassment. I could see his face turn a bright red as he was holding back his frustration, not wanting anyone to see him cry.
"I have four empty rooms, would anyone like to join?" I asked, noticing that their whispers were detrimentally affecting his attitude, which was something I didn't want to tolerate right now. I'd rather this go as smoothly as possible.
Everyone shook their heads rapidly, a few 'no sir's' circling in the background. Passing Ryan, I took a step toward the crowd and folded my arms across my chest.
"Then scram." The raise in my voice caused a few of them to flinch, and others to flee. "there's nothing for anyone to see."
Retreating in different directions, each individual left without another word and did so as quickly as they could, not wanting to test the waters as I was clearly in a foul mood. It bothered me how attracted students were to seeing others in trouble. When I was here, I never wanted to see anyone...well, that's not entirely true. Maybe that's why he's getting so much attention; everyone thinks he has it coming. But that's no reason to parade around him, they should know from experience that he's in for a rough time.
I returned to the door and turned the key to unlock it before motioning for Ryan to open it. Reaching forward, he hesitated for a moment but then slowly turned the knob with a gentle push, allowing the door to creak open just to get a glimpse of the dark inside.
"W-which room?" He asked, clutching his bag in his first.
"The second, left room has a bed already made, I suggest you stay there." I waited patiently for him to step inside, watching as the dullness of the room digested in his stomach.
Attendance in the Academy has dropped since the school year began, so Ryan will have to face this journey alone. Not that he'll be given much, if any, opportunity to socialize. I guess students just felt better when they have someone relatable inside with them, especially since it keeps Mr. Patry and I busy.
"Put your bag down and take a seat at the table."
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RYAN'S POV:
Room 113 wasn't actually a room, it was more of a small corridor that was never needed for anything other than solitary confinement. The outer door led you to the middle end of the common room, there were two separate rooms on both the left and right side and there was a restroom tucked into the right-side corner. The last time I was here, there were two other students who liked to shout repeatedly. Their screams echoed in the common room, causing an ear-piercing vibration that spread into every corner of the corridor.
The common room contained nothing but a table, where you could eat your meals if permitted, but there was also a restraint chair in the corner. I had never been put there, nor have I seen anyone else victimized by it, but the sight of it alone made my stomach turn. It was one of the older ones you'd see in movies about prison. Sitting in the corner like a predator hunting, patiently waiting for its next prey.
I walked to the room he assigned me, noticing that the only thing that had changed was the quality. The wooden desk had a thousand scratches and scribbles that matched the ones on the stool provided from students doing anything they could to keep busy. The bed had a much thinner mattress than those in the dorms, but I doubt I'll do much sleeping in here. The room itself was bland; grey walls with a small window that shed a beacon of light onto the dark, wooden floor. I swear it was smaller than most jail cells.
We weren't allowed to bring any decorations, nothing but what was absolutely necessary and a few books if you had some. I've already read the ones I've grabbed, but I guess now I'll read the appendix, table of contents, and maybe even the footnotes to occupy my mind.
Even with other students here, socialization was kept to a minimum. We were allowed to talk during meals but that was it, sometimes students would talk through the vents in their rooms. I know some used to pass notes with a paperclip, but that was put to an end when the Administrators installed a camera in the common room.
This place has to have been empty for a while, either that or my brain forgot how stale and thick the air was.
"I'm not waiting all day, Ryan." Mr. Davis said, standing near the common room table, with a blank stare on his face.
I sat my bag down on the desk and took a deep breath before moving to the seat across from where he waited for me. He decided to remain standing, looking apprehensive to siphon some information out of me.
There's a nervous bleeding in my head. From Mr. Davis' intimidating glare to the bright light fixated over us, the tension in the room was breakable like a toothpick. My pride was beginning to take over as I tried to mount a defense and remain calm, hoping I could talk my way either out of the room or into a quicker punishment. But my head was telling me how screwed I was.
"We've been watching you for the last few days; monitoring where you've dealt, and we found a significant amount of cash and contraband in your room." Shaking his head, he folded his arms across his chest. "All that, combined with the statement we got from another student, there's a compelling amount of evidence against you."
My eyebrows furrowed, "When did you search my room?"
"Last night during dinner. We had a member of staff go in and conduct a subtle, but thorough search."
"Oh." I smiled. "That's why we were allowed an extra dessert last night."
What a crock.
"Smoke bombs, bottle rockets, tanks...serious contraband that is dangerous not only to the property of Braxton but to the welfare of its students. You know this, everyone knows this, you also know that bartering and selling is not permitted because..."
"Everyone does it." I rolled my eyes. "Whether it's snacks, drinks or even random stuff like books, everyone here does it. I don't think I..." My voice suddenly disappeared when he took a step toward me, leaning forward.
"That is the only time you get to interrupt me," Darkness had consumed the color in his eyes and the tone in his voice had somehow turned colder. "do you understand me?"
Leaning back in my chair, desperate to distance myself as much as I could, I nodded. "Yes sir."
He assumed his original position across from me before continuing. I could tell he took a deep breath through his nostrils, trying to dissipate the anger he was harboring. And believe me, no one appreciated that more than I did.
"In light of your actions, Mr. Patry is recommending that your stay at Braxton be extended for another two-to-three months."
I heard what he said, but my head couldn't make any sense from it. Three months? No one's every received a one-time extension that long. I had only one strike on my record from that fight I got into with Jasper, but this...this isn't an offense worthy of two strikes! I could tell I looked like a deer in headlights; just stiff and silent.
He was waiting for a response from me, or maybe for me to settle down so he could continue.
"Three...? W-what? No, no he can't do that." Was all I managed to get out.
Mr. Davis nodded, "He can, and he is. He's in his office preparing the letter to your parents right now."
Leaning forward, I threw my arm to the side. "Just stick me in here for a few days and get it over with. They're fucking fireworks, we're not talking about alcohol or weapons. Jesus!" I exclaimed.
He ignored my swearing, though I wasn't sure why. I didn't even realize I said it until after I had a minute to reflect on my plea.
"We tried that last time, and it didn't work. Last time you weren't even selling something as harmful as fireworks. Your actions have consequences, Ryan." He paused when I rolled my eyes and slumped back against my chair. "You were warned last time, and yet you still made this decision."
I folded my arms across my stomach, as if I needed protection, and leaned forward. There was an intense pain lingering through my chest as I realized my parents would undoubtedly agree with the pristine recommendation from Mr. Patry.
"You involved students, you brought others into this and sold them contraband. That is what makes this even worse. It's bad enough for you to fuel yourself with something dangerous and prohibited, but supplying others with the same ammunition?"
We locked eye contact, there was darkness in his but hatred in mine. My chest was rushing with adrenaline and my breathing was only somewhat steady, making me look like I was having a stroke. There was a strange hindrance in my thought process that left me as silent and bitter as the room we were in.
"Tell me how you're bringing everything in."
Chuckling, "Mr. Davis, if you wanted any kind of information from me, why did you begin with bad news?"
"I'm not going to build your hopes up with a short punishment only to destroy it after getting what I want." He folded his arms across his chest, gripping his forearms tightly. "I find that insulting to you and degrading to me."
I tapped my foot aggressively against the leg of the table, staring into its center and refusing to comment. I respect that, but any chance of me cooperating was now gone. Long gone. I'm not telling him anything.
"I need to know two things: how the contraband is coming in and why you decided to bring it in and sell it."
"Does it matter?" I shook my head, hating how the Administrators always wanted to know every single detail.
"Don't cough an attitude with me, Ryan. You're in no position to be disrespectful, so I wouldn't dig your hole any deeper than it already is." He threatened, the angry expression returning. "You at least better tell me where everyone is setting the fireworks off at."
Nodding, I wanted to tell him that I didn't know because I honestly didn't. I never cared where everyone lit everything off, why would I? All I cared about was getting paid and making sure no one named me. But I have a feeling he wouldn't believe me if I told him that.
Sighing, he rested his weight against his knuckles as he laid them flat on the table, turning them almost white. "Ryan, the quicker you give me the information I need, the easier your experience will be here."
I sneered, "You were better at bad cop, the good cop needs work."
Smirking, he flashed his eyebrows and then stood straight. "Alright, alright, if you're not going to talk to me," He used his foot to move his chair out from under the table, dragging it out a few feet to the center of the room. "then I guess we'll start with your punishment."
I looked away, exhaling as he pointed to the chair.
"Pants down, hands flat here." Tapping the seat of the chair, he waited until I stood up before moving away to the locked closet by the outer door.
Grabbing what he needed, he allowed the door to slam automatically behind him. His demeanor had shifted quite a bit, beginning as angry frustration but developing into his traditional stern automation.
My back was turned so I couldn't see what was in his hands, but no matter what it was, the fear in the pit of my stomach wouldn't disappear.
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MR. DAVIS' POV:
He kept his chin buried in his chest. From afar, he seemed to be standing perfectly still in position but from arms reach, he was trembling. Speaking from experience, believe me when I say that no amount of preparation will ever allow you to get used to this. I was hoping Jim would substitute in for me, but he's covered Room 113 the last three times we've needed to place a student here. I'm sure he hated it just as much as I did.
I rolled up my sleeves before quickly raising my arm high in the air, causing him to glance back in hoping that it might resolve his apprehension.
"No, no." He stood straight immediately, forcing me to lower my arm. "W-why are you going to use that?" He fumbled on his words, recalling the pain he felt from the last time I used this for his punishments.
This same instrument was once used on me by Mr. Patry Senior. In my opinion, it was the only thing close to getting the cane.
"Why wouldn't I use this?"
He took a step back, resulting in me following him until he was backed against the wall.
"You brought in and distributed contraband, risked the safety of every student here, harassed everyone when you were trying to figure out who exposed you," My anger was suddenly growing as if I were being taunted by his actions. "and then you showed that you have no remorse for what you did when you got defensive and disrespectful toward me."
"That's it?" He asked foolishly, trying to use humor to let his rage out but it only built mine.
"Get over here, put your hands on that chair and take your punishment." I walked back to the chair, watching the goosebumps on his arms becoming visibly noticeable.
He kept his eyes fixed on the carpet beater, the fear holding him back. I could tell from his facial expressions that he was trying to talk himself into moving, though his feet seemed frozen to where he stood. When I let out a sigh of impatience, he wiped his tears on his shoulders and came back to where I was.
Bending forward, he resumed his trembling but tried to calm himself through deep breaths.
I didn't waste any time. WHOOP! I laid the first one in the center, causing his knees to buckle abruptly and his weight to transfer to his toes as he leaned forward. WHOOP! WHOOP! My aim was normally accurate, which was bad news for him as I continued hitting the exact same spot repeatedly. WHOOP! WHOOP! Once he winced, I knew it was time to move somewhere else for a while and repeat the process. WHOOP! WHOOP! I aimed for slightly above his thighs which, when struck with the carpet beater, caused his toes to curl against the sole of his sandals. WHOOP! WHOOP! WHOOP!
"Please stop!" He hollered, squeezing the ends of the chair tightly.
I returned to the center, this time adding some much needed force to my swing.
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RYAN'S POV:
WHOOP! WHOOP! WHOOP! Reaching forward, he grabbed the bottom of my shirt and pulled me back so I was standing flat on my feet, forcing me to subject to the full force of his swing. WHOOP! WHOOP!
"M-Mr. Davis, please..." I managed to say despite the strain in my voice. "Stop, stop."
WHOOP! "Oh no, I warned you about this...turn around." He barked once he saw I was beginning to turn and face him. "There were more than just smoke bombs in that pile, there were many other explosive fireworks that you were dealing. One that could easily start a fire or hurt someone if not used properly."
"I-I know."
WHOOP! WHOOP! He continued his pace and rotating between the middle and lower half of my bottom, holding nothing back and not giving me the chance to catch my breath. WHOOP!
"That is not something the Administration will tolerate. I have a da...." He began, but stopped. I could see his jaw clench as he turned and wiped some of the sweat from his forehead. "Everyone's safety is too important for you to jeopardize."
WHOOP! Carrying on, I forced myself to inhale sharply despite my lack of breath in an attempt to get some air back into my lungs. WHOOP! WHOOP!
"You've been here for how long? I've had you in this position many times before Ryan, but somehow the message still hasn't rendered in your head." WHOOP! WHOOP!
"I-I'm sorry." I said quietly, using all of my strength to keep myself up.
WHOOP! Walking to the left, he put the carpet beater on the table and I felt myself tense even further. It should be a sign of relief, but the Administrators have a tendency to use more than one instrument during punishments. I anticipate his belt will be next, or worse, my boxers will be removed.
"Do you have anything to say?" He came around the front and knelt down to my face.
Sniffling, somewhat grunting, I merely shook my head. "No s-sir."
"I'm going to let you think about this for a while before we continue." He said vaguely while motioning for me to stand up. "Go stand in the corner."
I did so quickly but immediately regretted it once I felt the welts on my bottom clash against my skin. My pants, which dangled around my ankles, seemed miles away as they'd force me to bend over and then rub against my bottom once I pulled them up.
Mr. Davis waited impatiently as I made the bold decision to hike them up quickly, and move to the corner briskly. He followed and directly stood behind me, making me shrivel up like a hermit crab.
"You see that camera?" He pointed to the left, allowing me to turn only my head so I could see it. "I'll be watching. If you put a toe out of line, I'll be in here faster than you could turn around."
"Y-yes sir."
My crying had reduced to short, but fast, sniffles and hiccups. I could feel a headache already forming as I stared at the blank, grey corner, too afraid I'd fall backwards if I closed my eyes. Once the door closed, I knew the true reality was about to set in.
Absolute silence. It's what strangled you the most; toying with your head as if it were feasting on your own self-destruction. It's amazing the ways your mind will try to occupy itself, otherwise you'd end up going crazy. Start hearing sounds that aren't actually there, noticing things subtly out of place even though they're exactly where they were, or replaying all the shitty decisions you've made and horrible events that happened to you. The punishments aren't the scariest thing about Room 113, it's the self-assessment you subject yourself to. Coming face with who you are as a person...I'm afraid I'm not myself when I come in here, and I'm afraid that I am.