Hentan House – The Beat Around The Bush

They tore at my clothing from all directions. Pinching my skin and ripping the vest from my back. Before I could react, three hands were already gripping my arm. They pinned to the oak dining table as I heard scissors snip the air. I screamed as the cold metal ran up my ankles and down my back. My trousers slipped off with little effort. I shut my mouth in preparation for the searing pain of the blades they had sliced across my legs but I felt nothing. Rosemary twisted into vision and placed the scissors on the table like a doctor showing the child the needle before the prick. I clenched my legs together in one final protest at the hand curling into my pants. I bucked and pulled away as Rosemary watched the whole thing. I was not going to lay down and wait for this to be over. Rosemary picked the scissors up once more and snipped the sides of my underwear free as another’s hand pulled them away like a thread from between my legs.

‘Bring them in.’ Rosemary instructed as she threw my clothes to the side. Yarrow walked into the room holding two large wooden buckets. I could see what looked like handles sticking out from the large rim.

‘What did you do my sister and mum?’ I spat out and felt someone grab the roots of my hair and yank my head back. Rosemary knelt down and placed a white bundle of clothing at my feet.

‘Wear this.’She said as I attempted to wrench my arms and head free of the womens grip. Standing up she raised a white ski mask to my face. I twisted away in protest.

‘She still fighting you Rosemary? She is a survivor after all.’ Yarrow said and I heard the bucket drop down on the wooden floor heavy. ‘Look at this Aspen. Look over here.’ I couldn’t stop even if I wanted as the others twisted my head towards her. The buckets were filled with large black branches dripping red. Yarrow gripped one and pulled it out like a whip. It titled down from the heavy clusters of red berries still on it. I recognised them from the trees on the estate. Yarrow slashed it through the air and I felt my legs begin to give way.

‘Why are you doing this?’ I asked in some way to get them to stop what was about to come.

‘We have to protect you. The blood of the Rowan will be your ward against evil spirits. You need to live a long healthy life to look after the baby. As did Yvonne and her aunt before her. Let me place these on you or the whipping will be worse.’

I felt the hands loosen. I swung forward and slapped Rosemary across her ear. Scrambling past her I could feel the women behind reach out and miss me. Yarrow stepped between me and the door. With one strike I felt my legs slip out and I hit the floor. Instinctively I had raised my hands to protect my head but a foot lodged itself in my gut. Forcing the air out my body I retched and vomited across the floor.

‘Jesus wept. That’s pathetic.’

I heaved again as I crawled forward. Every single part of me burned from the inside out. I didn’t raise my head. I kept my focus low and on the floorboards.

‘Let her crawl around first. Get it out of her system.’ One of them jeered.

‘Don’t you forget she’s one of us. She will grow through this but we can’t have her despise us.’ Rosemary said standing over me. ‘Aspen…I’m going to cover you up.’

All I could do was breath as I felt her bony fingers lifted my hair from my face. The cotton mask dragged down my head. I kept my eyes clenched. My thoughts going to my mother. They had said she had gone through the same thing as me. How could she take me here with that knowledge. To know what they were going to do to me this whole time. Raising me to take the very same tortures. All for this family we she never mentioned. If it was me I wouldn’t spit on them even if they were burning. They had picked me up and slid the white thermals over my legs and breasts. They said it would be easier but those branches would still cut through the thin fabric.

One by one they took the branches from the berry filled buckets. Raising them in the air they circled and picked their spot. Yarrow held me in place while they each marked their spot to cover red. The first branch slipped over my bicep and smacked across my chest. I screamed out as the heavy blows began. The sodden berries burst with each thwack. Softening the blows at first, they smeared on the skin and fabric. Each spattering thinned and sharpened the branch. Twigs jabbed and stuck in my soft parts. Catching the skin with their hooks. Picking me apart like a hundred birds. The welts never softened the pain. They made quick work covering their patch of skin before whipping the next part. It wasn’t long before I felt the air cut across my face. Clenching tight I felt the branches start to be replaced by hands. The buckets sloshed as handfuls of the berries were now slapped onto my skin. Chopping at my neck and smearing across my lips. Yarrow laid me out as they stung the backs of my legs and ass. Nails scratching over my thighs. I raised my arms up again and again and felt them slapped away and knelt on. They never wavered, never stopped their work, until I felt the juices from the two buckets come pouring down over me.

Frozen in preparation for the next swift whip or beating I waited. The grunts and thwacks replaced by a choir of exhausted breath. I couldn’t remember the last time I breathed. Like a cricket on an open window I felt a presence behind the pain. It felt familiar. A hand to hold in the darkness.

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