Chapter 2

"Ah I see. But… I had called for his father, and you are…?" Rylan heard Mr Hughes saying in the background.

"His mother. My husband is not free at the moment so I've come to pick Rylan up instead. May I know what the problem is?" That extremely sweet voice again.

She is a liar! She is not my Mama! Don't you know? My real Mama is already dead!

"Haven't your husband told you, Mrs Wallace? I thought I told him on the phone!"

"Oh he hasn't. He just told me that there was a little accident at school, involving my son. That's all. Now, what has my son done?"

Nothing. I have done nothing that concerns you, madwoman.

"Well, Rylan has been in a fight. And you might want to tell your husband that it is not a little accident. He kicked a pupil and punched him in the eye. And I thought you might want to know that the pupil's parents are considering filing for a complaint, unless you and Mr. Wallace are willing to compensate by paying for the poor boy's medical fees and others."

"I DID NOT KICK HIM!" Rylan yelled in his defense. He could stand it no longer, but didn't know why. He had never dared to yell in the presence of his discipline master before. Why was he behaving this way? He guessed it was due to the lies.

"Now, be quiet, Rylan. Mrs Wallace, as you can see, your son has caused great disturbance today. I suggest you bring him home right now, and perhaps you can talk about it and get him to reflect his actions." Mr Hughes said disapprovingly. "As for his punishments…"

"Oh, actually, I think you can, um, leave that, sir. I will see to it that Rylan is duly punished. Oh yes, I will…"

What was that Rylan noted in the voice? A tinge of excitement in the last sentence? Whatever it was, it sent shivers down his spine.

"Oh no, ma'am. We can't do that, unfortunately. You may want to punish him at home, but it is truly different in school here. All punishments must be carried out, or it shall be unfair to the rest of the students, and the parent s will complain, and –"

"Ah, fine! Go ahead then, but be quick with it."

"Today, ma'am?" Mr Hughes was confused. "But that was not what I intended. I wanted –"

"I'd rather it be today, sir, if you'd please."

For a moment the discipline master looked doubtful, then he agreed. "All right. Rylan, you come with me. Mrs Wallace, you shall wait here."

"Can I come along as well? Please?"

Mr Hughes stared at the lady for a long time, before nodding slowly. "Sure." He said without any trace of emotions.

The discipline master had led Rylan and his 'mother' to a small 'special' room, as he had termed it. One look at it and you know what the punishment would be. Mr Hughes fingered a long wooden cane – a thin one, though – and Rylan couldn't help but shiver. It was not due to the cane, but the array of wooden canes on the wall. They were arranged from the thinnest to the thickest, and Mr Hughes – of course – had chosen the thinnest one.

"Um… actually, sir, I would prefer it to be the other one." His so-called mother spoke as she pointed to one of the canes on the wall.

"This one?" Mr Hughes gestured towards the second thinnest one.

"No, no. Perhaps the one two canes after it."

"This one?"

"Yes, yes, that's the one. I want him to remember never to fight again."

"But this is too thick, ma'am! It will probably cause serious injury! I suggest if you really want him to learn a lesson, this cane would do." The discipline master pointed towards the second thinnest cane.

"All right, all right. Can we get on with it please? I'm in a rush." The woman sighed.

"Okay. Rylan, now you must know that this punishment is for your own good, okay? You did something wrong, and this is what you deserve. You cannot blame anyone but yourself, and –"

"Yes, yes. I believe he knows all that, sir. Now, would you please?"

Rylan stared at the woman. She was mad, very mad to even choose the cane to use on him! He fumed; he was not going to let her win so easily.

"Rylan, would you please take off your trousers? And lie on this bed after that." Mr Hughes said, using the cane to tap on something that seemed to be a white bed.

The boy flushed. He was embarrassed. Taking off his trousers right then and there? Especially in front of that… that woman? He could not imagine that.

"Rylan? You aren't shy, are you? After all, we are both males, and that is your mother. There's nothing to be afraid of. Come on, be quick."

His face grew even redder and hotter. He wished the woman's true identity could be revealed. He wished to tell, but he knew only too well that no one would believe him. Who would ever believe a naughty boy than a woman who is known to be his mother? Pulling off his trousers, he climbed onto the bed and lay on it, facedown, reluctantly.

He hadn't expected the first whip when it came. It came down hard, just like Mr Hughes had promised earlier on their way here, and it was painful too, but it was something he could manage. He tensed, knowing the second whip would be arriving anytime soon. He was right. The cane came down a second time, as hard as the first. He bit his lip from crying out. It will soon be over… it will soon be over. Hang on. He told himself. He had just stabilized his breathing when the third time came, but oddly enough, the pain was not as stinging as the first two times. He inhaled sharply, still.

"Okay you can get up now." Mr Hughes told him.

"That's all? Just three strokes of the cane?" The woman's voice rang in his ears. Rylan was disgusted. Three strokes was already enough, what more did she want?

Mr Hughes, as though echoing his thoughts, said, "Three strokes is enough, ma'am. Any more and it will probably do hurt." There was a hint of surprise in the discipline master's voice. He must be shocked by this kind of mother, Rylan thought.

"Never mind. I know my son best, sir, and I know he surely can take some more. He needs it, anyway. He needs to be disciplined." Said the woman. "And, sir, if you won't do it, I'll gladly do so. Perhaps my son needs a touch of his mother's concern and love to understand how much hurt he has caused his father and I by picking a fight."

He heard no response from his discipline master so he figured that Mr Hughes was just plain speechless. He tried to twist his head sideways to have a closer look, but as soon as he got a glimpse his head was slammed down onto the white sheets. The throbbing in his forehead had not gone when more lashes of the cane came. It was unbearably painful; the force that was bringing down the cane every few seconds was far much more stronger than that earlier, which was weird for a woman. She is a madwoman, after all. She surely must have some special strength, he thought.

For a moment, he forgot all about the pain. But as soon as he left his thoughts and returned to the real world, the excruciating pain appeared again. He was pretty sure his skin was going to bleed anytime soon. With every stroke of the cane, the number of black dots that burst right in front of him increased. His cries were muffled among the thick white sheets as he gripped the snow-coloured soft linen so tightly he often tore them. Then he would grope for another area to grip and hold on to. This continued for what seemed like millenniums to him. His hearing became unclear and he heard his "mother" muttering in the far background. 'You need to be taught a lesson. You better not fight again. Don't you know how much pain you caused your parents? Hmm?' Each lashing was accompanied by a sentence, or, a question. His palms were sweaty and aching, but he still clutched the sheets steadfastly in his fists, despite his long nails that kept digging into his palms. That was his only way of forgetting the pain, by channeling it from his bottom to his hands. After all, the pain in his palms seemed to be known more to him than his butt.

Then it stopped. Finally. He exhaled in a deep rush. Slowly, his hands loosened their grips on the sheets and the balled fists dropped. He closed his eyes, trying his best to regain his composure.

"Get up." A voice commanded him. "Get up, we're going home."

Eyes half-closed, he planted his jelly-like hands somewhat firmly on the bed and tried to support himself up. His hands wobbled and he fell over on his back. He howled.

"Shut up and get up!"

Cursing in all the languages he knew, he struggled out of the bed, then pulled out his trousers. He swayed violently as the black dancing dots had not cleared, and Mr Hughes offered to help him with it.

Then he followed the madwoman out of the room like a faithful dog. He could feel the discipline master's curious stare boring into his back every step he took, but he did not bother to turn back. Right now he had one other focus. A more important one, definitely.

He had to escape from Mabel's clutches.