I wondered if she would notice that I peed myself.
I spent so many nights alone, crawled up within the darkness, hoping she or anyone else wouldn’t see my feeble, little body trembling uncontrollably. The more breaths I took, the faster my heart thumped as though I had just concluded a marathon and the beats were the only thing keeping me from collapsing. I tried jogging my brain, hoping I would remember this time. There were just so many numbers and letters circling in my head—so much for one little boy to remember. But then I would remember the excruciating pain, and I would vehemently tremble much more as I tried to remember how I should respond when I was questioned. Tomorrow would be another day.
It
was then that my mom burst through my bedroom door and yelled, “Time to
get up!”
No, how could it be? Was it tomorrow already? I must have overslept.
I didn’t expect the morning to arrive so quickly.
But my mother surely wanted me off the bed in a hurry. “If you don’t get
off that bed in two minutes I’m getting the belt!”
Lifeless, I fought to remove myself from the bed a minute later. Then I
imagined I heard something jingling; it sounded just like the buckle of a
thick, leather belt. I leapt off the bed and the jingling stopped, but then I
heard it again. It chimed louder this time … much more real. Yes, it was
real! She was coming. “I’m up! I’m up!” I screamed. And just as
suddenly as I had first heard the sound, once again the jingling stopped.
I turned on the lights in my room to eliminate the darkness and the abrupt illumination gradually forced my eyes to open. Once my pupils dilated enough I was finally able to see the time on the clock hanging on a wall. It was 5:15. a.m. I needed to have breakfast and to be ready to leave the house by 6:00 a.m. else more jingling would soon follow; I could not be late for school. While taking a shower, I tried remembering patterns of numbers in my head. I just couldn’t forget; I had to remember. Once my hands stopped trembling after thinking too much I turned off the shower and finished getting ready for school. Then she asked, “Are you ready yet?” to which I anxiously replied yes … only I did not feel ready.
At 6:00 a.m. I was all set and taken to school and the instant I stepped through the gates my feet buckled and my anxiety climbed. I immediately headed to my classroom and sat in a corner in silence, trying to remember various combinations of things in my brain. Classmates trickled in one by one and they each withdrew notebooks the moment they arrived; hastily and nervously they all began cramming notes into their heads.
Class started at 7:30 a.m. and the teacher walked into the classroom ten minutes late. She just sat down without acknowledging any of us and based on that action alone it was easy to tell what was about to ensue. “Ok,” she said to the class, her tone as manly and callous as ever, “everyone, put away all your books. And look straight at me!” She was tall, burly and had an intimidating face.
I didn’t want to look at her but everyone did as they were told and gaped at the teacher, and so I did. At that point, only silence filled the room. The teacher then slowly got up from her seat, sauntered towards a nearby cabinet and then withdrew, “Hitler.” The moment the class saw what she held in her hand they all felt life leaving their bodies. “Hitler” was a paddle, a thick and huge paddle that resembled a cricket bat.
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