"Tell me: Who is the father?" she screamed.
Rage burgeoned in my breast and I screamed back, "I will not tell you!"
I was more shocked than ever when she struck again; I ducked my head and she lashed at me over and over, my shoulders, my back, my legs, my arms, the crop hissing through the air and snapping against my body. I huddled into myself, screaming when she struck me, crawling away from her, until I was in the corner of the room, shielding my head with my arms; she was panting and cursing as she swung the crop.
I had to get away. I crawled away from the wall, toward the door; she tried to grab my arm but I twisted away from her, struggling to my knees as she flogged me. I gained my feet on the landing, and stumbled down the stairs, holding onto the banister. I looked behind me; she was on her knees at the top of the stairs, her hair straggling, her breath rasping.
I fled into the drawing room and hid behind the draperies. I could not think, but only feel. My entire skin was on fire. The sweat that oozed from me in the suffocating heat added a salty sting to the welts; I gasped and panted with the effort of restraining my screams. I looked at my arms and legs. Some of the marks were as high as my little finger, and twice as wide. I could only stare in disbelief. I could hear the ticking of the clock; my breaths kept time with it. I could hear my mother moving about on the landing. I heard her feet go into her room and heard the door close. I was terrified to move; but I could not stay where I was, or I would faint from the heat and the pain. Finally I crept into the hall. Lily hovered nearby. I did not look at her. I climbed the stairs slowly and went into my room, closing the door behind me.
In the glass my reflection was monstrous. A red weal crossed my face, from forehead to chin, crossing my left eye and swelling it almost shut. I turned my shoulder toward the mirror; the welts were so numerous that there was scarcely an inch of skin untouched. The marks throbbed viciously. They needed ointment. In the places where she had struck hardest, tiny droplets of blood had eased out at the edges of the welts.
I could not sit down; I knelt on the bed and then lay carefully on my belly, tucking pillows under me. Tears seeped from my eyes. I wished for Robbie to come. He must come soon. He must. I could endure no more of my mother's mistreatment.