"Carlisle, Dad, I'm so sorry, I don't know what got into me," Emmett rambled.
"Emmett, stop," I said, "Why would you even think about tearing Edward's arm, off, much less actually do it?"
"He was pissing me off…" he knew that it wasn't a good reason.
"You get on his nerves all the time," I stated.
"I know, and I regret doing it after. He was just there, smirking!" he exclaimed.
I had a feeling that he wasn't going to take what I've had planned for him.
"Edward explained everything to me," I stated again, just to see his reactions. Instant fear. He thought that I trusted Edward more than I trusted him, which wasn't always true. In fact, it was mostly false.
"What? No, Carlisle, please! They're probably all lies! Just to get me in more trouble. Please understand," his shout faded into a pleading whisper.
"Didn't you hear what happened down there?" I questioned.
"You were fixing him up and I heard some grunts. Normal, since he was probably in pain from the cleaning and stuff…"
"He was telling me that it wasn't your entire fault. He was taking responsibility for his faults, even though they were incredibly minor compared to yours. He told me that he said some things to make you angry. Edward asked for punishment just to skim a little off the top of yours. Those grunts that you heard at the end? They were from his punishment, not from the injury. You should feel lucky that you have a brother like that," I lectured as he gaped.
The look on his face instantly turned into an "I take back everything I said before."
"I'm sorry…" he whispered, "You shouldn't have spanked Edward. It wasn't fair."
"He was honest. I haven't changed how you're going to be punished since the first look out in the field. What he said calmed me down a little bit though. Again, you should be grateful."
"I am." He couldn't say anything else. He choked on his own voice.
I grasped both of his shoulders. "Go wait for me at the rocks a couple miles out. Edward doesn't want to hear anything," I added. He dipped his head and nodded.
"Aren't you going…" he asked awkwardly.
"I'll be there in a couple moments, son," I smiled warmly, trying to comfort him.
He stepped out the door anxiously, curious, but not really wanting to know. It was like sticking your hand in an oven mitt and touching the stove. You'd want to see what it felt like, but scared that you'll get burned.
I took a couple deep breaths and massaged my temples. Then I unlocked the bottom drawer of my antique brush and dug through it until I reached the bottom. I felt the leather and winced at the memories. (See Remeber the First Time by jlbrew23)
It was given to me by my human father, a couple months before he died. He gave it to me to keep my own children on track.
The only reason I kept it was because it was one of the two things from my human life. That, and the cross hanging in our current home.
I knew Emmett was sorry, but how would it be even slightly fair to Edward if he got the same punishment as him? They both deserved much better.
The strap was placed into my hands, and I rotated it to see how much it has aged. It was two pieces of leather sewn together, the thread painted black by centuries of hiding in many locked drawers.
I hated the fact that it was made completely to inflict pain, and for no other reason. A cane could be used for walking. A hairbrush for… brushing your hair. A belt to keep one's trousers on.
I hated how it was so heavy. I hated the object completely. A sob quietly escaped from my mouth. I muffled it with my hands.
I stood up and jumped out the window and started sprinting with the much hated strap in my hands, grasped tightly; trying to break out of the cries.
I caught Emmett's scent, and like I ordered, he was waiting by the set of boulders in the forest. He was still.
I slowed down as I approached him.
"I'm really sorry, Carlisle," he said again before I could open my mouth.
"I know, Em," I rubbed his back, "Once this is over, it's over. I won't tell anyone in the family about it, and Edward won't either."
"Thanks," he muttered politely. He suddenly caught the object dangling from my left hand. Emmett gasped sharply. Then he took in a few calming breaths and was somewhat back to normal.
"You're going to strap me," he accused with fear painted in his sun tinted eyes.
"I'm sorry. I'm not exactly sure how much more it will hurt than my hand, but I cannot simply forgive you after a plain spanking," I said, sorrowful.
"I understand," he whispered. I didn't like how serious Emmett sounded. It's been a mere few hours, and I miss the warm, glowing sun that I know he is.
"Lower your jeans and get a good grip on the rocks, son."
I couldn't deal with this in my study, because I was sure that he would break the house unintentionally, and he would feel still guilty afterwards. I knew I was embarrassing him and wounding his ego deeply by bringing him into the public and disciplining him, but it was necessary.
He turned around and dug his fingers into a fairly rugged part of the boulders and made a handle that would remind me of this moment for a while, since we had to run across the river before we could hunt, and this was right beside the sparkling stream.
He stepped back to unbutton his jeans and let them drop at his ankles. He turned back to me with only his shorts on.
"Should I…" he looked at the plaid boxers that remained.
"It's alright, keep them on, Emmett." We were, after all, in the middle of the woods, and people could randomly pop in. I was hoping not.
He faced the rocks and steadied himself.
"You'll be fine," I assured him. I took a deep breath myself and placed my hand on his back. Partially to restrain him from reaching back, but mostly to let him know that I was there.
I lifted the thick piece of leather and brought it down on his backside as if it were only my hand.
That earned a deafening scream that I was pretty sure Edward could hear. Emmett didn't reach back or even break the handles that his made.
"My god! I'm so sorry, Em. I didn't mean to be that hard," I worried.
"S'alright. You can keep going," he said through his gasps, "I'll keep quiet, I swear."
"You can cry, son. Won't hold it against you."
"I don't think I can control whether I cry or not, Dad. Please keep going," he urged.
I placed my hand back on his back and heard the swish of the strap even though I cut down half the force.
There was a difference though. The only response from my son was a loud sob, which was somewhat better.
By the 6th lick, Emmett was wailing.
"I'm so sorry," he apologized again and again. It was heart-wrenching. I still had a couple more in store for him, though.
I heard the ear-splitting crack when the strap landed perfectly on his sit-spot and upper thigh.
Emmett jerked up as he yelped and he turned to me with pleading eyes. His pants were twisted at his ankles. My heart shattered at the sight. He stayed in that position for a few seconds, resisting the urge to rub.
"We're," I took in a breath, "We're not quite finished yet."
He wimpered and bit his lip, but with another sob, he got back into the painful position.
The strap struck the exact same place it did last time, and a loud grunt was added to the wimpers and cries. I hit the sit spot again and he wailed even louder than before.
The dreadful tool slipped out of my hand in a second and I pulled my son into my arms without hesitation. He sobbed into my shoulders. I ran my fingers soothingly through his dark curls, trying to comfort him.
"I absolutely hated every single minute of that," I whispered into his ear. He knew it, too.
"I'm sorry for… a lot of things. For making you go through that. For hurting Edward. For hurting you." His words we so sincere, you'd never be able to doubt him.
"You're forgiven, son." I rubbed his back before he pulled away.
"I have to apologize to Edward," he said quickly.
"Of course. He's probably still back at the house. He asked to go hunting with me tonight. You may come, if you like," I offered.
"Um… I'll think about it. Sorry again, for dissapointing you. I'll be off now. See you later?" I was so glad light-hearted Emmett Cullen was returning slowly.
"Sure," I replied as he ran off without hearing my response. I picked up the strap to return to the home. I thought about the pain I inflicted to my son's rear just a couple of minutes ago. Might as well have set his buttocks on fire.
I knew what that felt like. Even though it was a human memory, it was something hard to forget. I dropped the deadly weapon again. I dug a hole in front of where Emmett was standing, enduring the pain like a man, and placed the strap inside and buried it.
It would stay there for a long time. I hope.