Chapter 4
When I awoke, it was to the burning sensation of my ass and thighs. I tried to move, wondering how I’d ended up on the floor, but was too weak to move. My throat was dry and burned when I attempted to speak. It was dark in the library now, and I could hear voices in the distance, but could only make out a few words, like “lucky, scars, infection.” I started crying. I was confused, scared, and freezing cold.
They- the voices I had heard, must have heard me crying because the next thing I saw was Mr. Quackers and the school nurse, Miss Royal both crouching next to me. Both asked how I felt but I could only open my mouth. Miss Royal placed her hand on my forehead, “She’s running a fever.”
Mr. Quackers brushed a few strands of loose hair away from my face. He looked scared and angry. I wanted desperately to ask what had happened, why he had beaten me so savagely for forgetting to apologize to him. All I could do was cry and make gasping sounds. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away my tears.
Miss Royal sat down on the floor near my head and slowly eased a straw into my mouth, “Drink slowly.” I drank as slowly as I could, but my thirst was too demanding. I coughed and spluttered a few times from drinking too fast. When almost all the water was gone, she had me open my mouth and placed a few pills on my tongue. I gagged on the bitter taste, but was able to swallow them after a few attempts. My head down banged down against the floor as I drifted off into a fevered sleep.
I awoke sometime later as Mr. Quackers placed a cold rag across my forehead. I think I scared him when I gasped and tried to move. I was still very weak, but I couldn’t see Miss Royal around and did not want to be alone with him. I licked my lips and tried to speak, barely able to whisper, “Where’s Miss Royal?”
He looked ancient to me again as he spoke, “She had to leave. I’ve been watching over you. You don’t need a hospital, but you will need rest. How do you feel?”
I couldn’t believe he was asking how I felt. He’d done this! I grew angry and tried sitting up, shrieking when my weight shifted onto my ass. The anger fueled adrenaline in my body allowed just enough strength to spring into a standing position before I wavered and started to fall.
Mr. Quackers grabbed my shoulders and pulled me against himself so that I did not completely fall. He slowly helped me sink down to the floor, still holding me steady, asking again, “How do you feel?”
My voice was hoarse, but full of anger as I spat at him, “How do I feel? You beat me nearly to death you son of a bitch! I didn’t apologize and you took it out on me by beating me!”
Crying in front of him didn’t faze me this time as the tears spilled down my face. I tried to push away, and for a moment thought he was going to let me, but his grip never relaxed. My brain was still silently screaming, telling me to shift away from him, but exhaustion was the victor. He didn’t budge as my head thumped against his shoulder.
I felt like a tiny child as I sobbed, “Why did you continue to beat me, why do you hate me so much? I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m so much trouble. Please just expel me. Don’t hit me anymore.”
My head felt as though it had been repeatedly bludgeoned with the cane and not my ass. The room started to spin and I mumbled incoherently. I can recall hearing him sniffle, but nothing more after.
