"Ruin and Redemption"

A Change of Fate for Scarlett

He raised the whip and brought it down upon her flesh. She screamed his name “Derrick!” He brought the whip back up.

“Derrick, stop, there’s no need!” Lizzie had come to her senses. She couldn’t just stand idly by watching Derrick whip their slave.

He let go of the whip, letting it fall to the ground. He turned to face the slave who had been playing Lizzie. “You’ll be next! And everyone else watching, if I ever see this happening again!” He said pointing fingers at them. He felt sick to his stomach, sickened by what he’d done to Scarlett, sickened that Patsy had seen, and sickened by the vile things Scarlett had said about him and Lizzie. Did this woman who had been his lover not have any shame?

 Lizzie trembled; She had watched. She had not stopped him from starting in on Scarlett, though his intent had been clear. She had allowed Scarlett to receive lashes from her husband, Scarlett’s lover, the man who had given her the white child that Lizzie had helped bury. She felt a sense of disgust with herself, Scarlett, Derrick and Patsy for the whole mess.

She wanted to reassure her slaves that it had been an aberration, that it would not happen again. But she hesitated to say anything. Anything she said would likely wind up in the next play they concocted to amuse themselves with by making fun of her. She shrank before them, feeling like a wind-up doll that had run out of steam. She leaned on her husband and walked somberly out of the building, where Patsy was kneeling over Scarlett, daubing her face with a damp cloth that had somehow materialized. Lizzie would leave the slaves and Patsy to sort things out. She had enough to deal with with her own conscience. She had been the reason behind the whipping; She had expected Derrick to protect her against the humiliation, and he had taken a whip to his own lover. Lizzie felt like a monster for allowing him to do such a thing. There had been no time to act; She hadn’t known. Her mind gave her excuses, but she only half believed them. She knew that she had not prevented a whipping, she had incited one, or at least the beginnings of one. At least Scarlett was well enough to look at Patsy, Lizzie reassured herself. She could still see, and hopefully walk. Lizzie assumed she was simply too exhausted and upset to do so right now.

Scarlett sat on the floor, completely humiliated. They had all seen her lover, Derrick, whom she’d often bragged about, come at her and draw a bloody gash down from her mouth. They had seen too when he had come and ripped her blouse, exposing her naked back, and how he had paused, and looked at his wife before he began to whip her.

She had always known Lizzie would find a way to punish her further. Now she had used her husband as the instrument! What about Scarlett; What about what she gave him? He shouldn’t have even been here watching and trespassing on her enjoyment! Everyone liked to have a good laugh at the plantation owner and his wife! What the hell were they doing showing up, as if they had been invited or something? Scarlett certainly hadn’t given out any invitations to this! This was for the slaves, for them! Damnit, they worked hard enough, they deserved something!

And if Derrick had black babies, or Lizzie didn’t sleep with him, as they “funned”, what would anyone care? What should anyone care? Most of them knew it wasn’t true, but it was fun to poke fun at those who held so much power over their lives. How could Derrick do this to her? After she had been so generous with her heart; it was just a bit of fun for herself and the other slaves! She and Tansy had been making fun of themselves as well; Hadn’t Derrick and Lizzie noticed how they had both made themselves sound just like the “typical” slave? None of it was meant to be taken seriously! Of course it wasn’t! And it never should have been!

The other slaves sensed her discomfort with so many witnesses to her humiliation. They began to slowly and respectfully clear out. When she was alone with Patsy, she grabbed hold of Patsy and let the tears flow unabashedly. She thought being whipped by Derrick was worse than if her own father had done it. How could he use that whip to rip into her skin after he had been with her not two days ago, had lovingly caressed her and called her his “African beauty”? How could she ever sleep with him again after what he’d done?