Blank Slates

Chapter 2

 TW: c/tting

The whip collided with her back again, sending another sharp, stinging pain spreading through her entire body. The pain seeped deep into her skin, tearing through her flesh and down to her bones. It felt like sharp claws were digging into her back, tearing deep gashes through her skin. Every single part of her ached or burned or stung. She bit her lip harshly, forcing her sobs back down her own throat, and she squeezed her eyes shut, keeping the tears from flowing out. The whip hit her again. How many was it? Twenty-five? More than that? She had lost count already.

There was a brief pause in the barrage of hits on her body. She raised her aching head slightly. Her breathing was harsh and ragged and her mouth was filled with the metallic taste of her own blood. Black spots dotted her vision, and she felt herself drifting in and out between consciousness. Was it over? Two more hits to her back caught her off guard, and a soft sob escaped her cracked and bloody lips. Her dark eyes widened in fear, and she clamped a hand over her mouth. But it was already done.

"Was that a cry I heard?" one of the men sneered.

She could not even respond. Squeezing her eyes shut and wrapping her arms around herself, she took the next few hits without letting out a single sound. Her whole body was screaming at her to cry, to let out a noise to release the tension consuming her muscles. But she would not let herself slip up again. Her mind was like iron, and it forced the rest of herself to keep quiet and just deal with the pain. There reached a point where she couldn't even hurt anymore. She just heard the thwack of the leather and the dull thump on her scarred and bloody back.

"My nerves must have been completely destroyed by now," she thought grimly to herself.

After what felt like forever, the whipping finally stopped. She had to force herself from breathing a sigh of relief when she saw the man put away the horrid object. She waited quietly on the floor, waiting for the next tortuous activity to commence. Her clothes were basically rags now, drenched with her own blood and sweat. But thankfully for her, the next hit never came. Instead, one of the men forced her to her feet. Her legs wobbled, but she refused to let them find a reason to strike her again. She stood as tall as she could, but did not make any eye contact with her tormentors.

"Has this taught you a lesson, 12505A?"

She opened her mouth to speak, and at first only a pathetic squeak came out. She tried again, this time forcing her voice to come out clear.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Go back to your room now. There will be no meals for you for tonight or the next day. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Now, get out of here."

Shakily, she made her way to the door and proceeded down the hallway. Pedagogues, Sentinels, and other students who passed her all couldn't help but slightly drop their stiff appearance to gawk at her and her haggard appearance. Each step was excruciating, and she felt like each one would be her last. She could barely walk straight, stumbling over her own feet with each step. She didn't dare put her hand up against the white wall for support lest she mark it with her own blood.

She barely noticed when her knees buckled, causing her to collapse onto the cold, hard floor. Trembling fiercely, she tried to force herself up, but felt too weak. Her body had seemingly given up on her, as if part of her had already given in to the pain and died. She wanted to cry. She wanted to sob her eyes out until she couldn't breathe. She didn't want to breathe anymore. She wanted to die.

The feeling of gentle hands on her barely registered in her mind. She did not move from where she lay on the ground. The grasp on her arm gradually turned from soft to tight and urgent.