In Waiting

Work in progress


Once upon a time there was a little girl. She sat on the side of her bed, bare feet hanging down, not quite reaching the floor. Her hands were folded on her lap and her head tilted down, looking at those hands. She was waiting. Her transgression one of many. She had no notion when the waiting would end. That would be her fathers decision. At the end of the waiting, would come the spanking, either by switch or belt. Her memory supplied the sound of the belt, as its measured movements met her skin. The switch might have hurt less but being forced to chose it, hurt more, in its own way. A small switch would result in a harsher reprimand. while a large switch hurt more physically but might shorten the duration of the punishment.

She twisted her fingers together, watching them. She knew better than to daydream, she might be caught unawares. She knew also, that she was supposed to be considering her misbehavior and have an appropriate response to the questions she would be asked. She knew she was expected to show contrition and remorse. She truly was sorry, for the pain, for the waiting. The truth was, the act that caused her to be sitting here, was already past and gone. Her small heart only focused on the impending pain.

She had never tried to rebel, to NOT need to sit on the side of the bed. She somehow knew that this was the way it was. Plain and simple. She would prefer not to be here, in this waiting place. She tried. Somehow, in her moments of freedom though, she always arrived here, in the ultimate unfreedom.

She wondered why, and she thought deeply. She accepted and hated the power of her parents had, to cause this. By now the cause of her problems was forgotten. The living through pain was all that was in her mind, that, and how she might avoid it in the future