Dishonor [Nanowrimo 2013]

Chapter 3: A Step in Some Direction

I arrived back at the prison exhausted from yet another long day of work. My stomach growled loudly reminding me that food came before sleep. I followed the rest of my group to the table where a hunched over woman with lines creasing her face served soup and slices of stale old bread.

"Thank you," I whispered as I took the offered food. She nodded acceptance.

I sat on the ground near the other members of my group, slurping down the contents as quickly as I could.

"Get up!" Scar-Face yelled at us. We quickly set our soup bowls down and stood up. A gloating Jordan was standing next to him.

He pointed a meaty finger at one of the women who worked in the Konjack's yard. "She's the one I noticed with contraband."

Scar-Face stalked forward and grabbed the woman. He yanked off her belt, and flat round loaves of servant's bread fell to the ground.

His face turned dark red, "You risked your life for this! For a little extra bread? You know the penalty for stealing from your master don't you?"

She nodded, her face the color of ash.

"So woman, what is your choice? Make it quick, I don't have all day." He was breathing quick, the scar across his face a white line against the red.

"I... please it's for my child. He's sickly and he isn't getting enough food here." She fell to her knees, her hands clasped in front of her.

"Exile or execution? Rules are rules and there is no room for leniency in our system.

Harsh sobs tore through her body. Her lips moved, forming a word. I watched, as if I was removed from the scene, as he pulled his pistol out of its holster, aimed it at her head, and fired.

The world stood still around us as her body crumpled to the ground.

"You!" Scar-Face barked at man near me. "Take her body to the trash."

The man leaped forward and snatched up her body.

"The rest of you will report to the punishment post, two lashes each for not reporting her." Scar-Face strode off, as if this whole scene meant nothing to him.

We approached as a cluster, not really wanting to go to the punishment post, but knowing better than two evade it. The last person who didn't report to the post when told to, was executed at the post the next day.

A tall older man rubbed his shiny scalp, and then stumbled toward the post.

I closed my eyes. Maybe I was weak, but I hated this part, watching others being struck by the lash and unable to do anything to help them.

Reese went up, and she screamed as the first lash struck her unblemished skin. I shuttered as she screamed again. If only I could run up there, take the lash away, pull Reese away from that evil post, and lead the people of this prison in a revolt. But I was a fungus, unable to do anything useful.

I shuffled forward and held my arms out to the guard. Only extreme punishments were tied up. Most of us were just held.

The man pulled off my belt and lifted my sack. He took a little too long lifting it, touching me as his hand went up my body. He lifted my arms up with my sack. I clenched my teeth and felt every muscle in my body tighten in anticipation. Then the pain hit across my back and my body jerked. A single tear streaked down my cheek. A second slash of pain sliced across my back. The guard released me and handed me my belt.

I stumbled back to the main area of the yard where I found Reese quietly weeping. I wished I could comfort her, but this was too harsh a world for comfort. I turned away from her, and waited for our order to return to our cell block.