by Danny Tyran
I tried to ignore the exquisite torture he was inflicting on me and think only of Gaby. All this time, my sister was watching my excitement and pain, beholding my struggles. Because of my torment, she seemed to suffer more than I did, despite the pain caused by the squatting position our master had imposed on her. Her face expressed compassion for me rather than self-pity for her own fate.
I figured I owed her a degree of interest in how she had lived and what her aspirations and interests were. It was difficult not to be touched by her story when she described the horrors of her childhood and adolescence. Her stepfather had raped her more than once when she was a child. But her mother was most responsible for her claustrophobia, having several times locked her in tight, dark and unsanitary corners, without any food, sometimes for more than a day, simply to punish her for being too curious and lively for her taste. Her mother found Gaby tiring, yet she was not hyperactive. She was just a playful child.
When my master checked to see if I had followed this conversation, I was able to give acceptable answers. During the rest of the discussion, I even managed to query Gaby on some aspects that seemed important to me which our master had missed.
For more than a week while we still lived in my hometown, I tried to teach Gaby what I knew. Our master selected her reading material and checked if she had accomplished her tasks correctly, but I had to take care of the rest, teaching her how to do our domestic chores and helping her with her physical training, for example.
From her very first error, my master questioned the instruction I had given her. “How come Gabrielle didn’t know how to do that task properly?”
“I don’t know, Sir. Maybe she needed more explanation or more time to learn.”
“You’re supposed to have given her all the information she needed and she had more than enough time to learn such a simple task.” He held up the ping-pong bat hanging from his waist and allowed me to choose which side to use for my punishment. One of the surfaces was covered with an abrasive substance like sandpaper. The other had a rubber cover with embossed patterns like tiny spikes. I could not tell which of the two sides could be the cruelest. I chose at random.
“Present yourself!” he ordered me.
I offered him my buttocks which he struck with a lot of force. I tried to prevent Gabrielle from witnessing my distress and forced myself not to cry. But my master continued until I moaned and sobbed. Gaby begged our master to stop. But she might as well have addressed him in Chinese, she’d not have been less understood.
From then on, every time she made a mistake and our master punished me, she was present for my punishment, begging our master to have mercy on me. A few times, she even tried to intervene by holding his hitting arm or by trying to prize the paddle away from him, which only earned me more swats. Eventually, she came to understand that her actions didn’t help me at all. She then began turning her back to my punishments, but our master forbade her from doing it. If she ignored the ban, I was also punished for her new disobedience.
We installed another bed for her in my room, reorganizing the entire furniture layout. Every night before falling asleep, I heard her crying. I didn’t worry too much. I remembered crying a lot during my first days, but for me the reaction had only been temporary. I was sure that hers would pass. But one night, after my master was particularly hard on me, she showed so much distress, she literally broke down in hysterical sobs.
I sat on her bed to comfort her, and she snuggled against me, crying even harder. Her tears eventually faded. “Look at you,” she said. “You have bruises everywhere and a split lip. All because of me. I’ll never do it properly. I’m only good at making mistakes. I’ll never be like you, Max. Maybe I should give up.”
“Nobody’s asking you to be like me. Just be a better Gaby. And it’s normal to make mistakes in the beginning. I did too. During the first few days, I felt like I was doing everything wrong. You’ve only just begun. Wait a while; give yourself a chance.”
“But when you started, nobody suffered in your place. Why is he doing that? Why does he punish you for everything?”
“Believe me, Gaby, he must have a good reason for acting like this. Maybe he’s trying to forge a bond between us.”
“But, on the contrary, aren’t you going to hate me for being beaten in my place?”
“It wasn’t you who decided how things turned out, Gaby. You’re not responsible for everything. I would be foolish to blame you.”
“But it’s my mistakes you’re being punished for.”
“Yes, and it’s you who are trying very hard not to commit them. I can see all the effort you’re making. I’m neither stupid nor blind. And who says it’s not because I’m an incompetent teacher?”
She continued to cry, but mingled with her tears, I saw gratitude in her eyes for my understanding and forgiveness. Suddenly, I wanted her to be there as much as I had wanted her to quit before. I almost blamed our master for hurting her this way.
One evening, while I was comforting her again, our master came into our room. He stood in the doorway, his hands above his head on the doorframe, and listened to Gabrielle’s sobs and my words of consolation. “How charming!” he said, sarcastically. “Max, who has every reason to consider himself the victim in all this, is the one trying to comfort Gaby. As for Gaby, she can think nothing better to help Max than begging me to stop, even though she knows that her pleas only make things worse. When are you going to work out a better course of action, Gaby?”
“But except for leaving here, what else can I do without aggravating things?”
“You know very well what you could do, and your departure has nothing to do with solving the problem.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Of course, you know. Think about it. I’m sure you will work it out very fast if you listen to your conscience and your heart rather than your fears.”
When we were alone, Gaby assured me that she didn’t have the slightest clue what he was getting at. But I think she was lying to herself as much as to me.
“Do you have any idea what he meant, what the solution is?” she asked.
“No. But his words were not addressed to me.”
Gabrielle took a long time to fall asleep that night. I knew, because I also needed more time to get there. The next day, when our master raised his hand to hit me, Gabrielle placed herself between him and me, to protect me with her body.
“Get out of the way, Gabrielle.”
“No, Sir. Hit me as much as you want, but Max will no longer suffer for me, ever.”
Our master started to hit her. He hit her for so long that I decided to do for Gaby what she’d done for me. I placed myself between them. Our master began to laugh. “Mutiny on board ship! My word!” He stopped hitting us and ordered us to go and tend to our wounds. Then he asked us to come and sit in front of him to discuss what had happened, what lessons we had learned. “Do you think slaves have the right to rebel against their masters?”
Gabrielle and I looked at each other and in a faint voice, we both said “no”.
“So, you think you were wrong to act like you just did?”
Neither of us knew what to say. Eventually, Gabrielle said, “I couldn’t let you continue to punish him for me, Master.” Her voice was vibrant with emotion.
“I couldn’t let you continue to beat her just for trying to protect me,” I added in turn.
Our master laughed again.
“What odd slaves, you both are! In the end, do you think you were right or wrong?”
Upon reflection, I answered, “If I only listen to my mind, I think I was wrong, but if I listen to my heart, I know I was right.”
Gabrielle nodded in agreement to my twisted answer.
“And you both think it better to give precedence to your heart over your judgment. But if your parents thought so, they’d never punish you for anything. No parent worthy of the name derives pleasure from punishing their children. Yet they all punish them at one tim
e or another, in one way or another. Are they wrong to do so?”
“No, Sir,” we replied in unison.
“Do you think children always understand what motivates their parents when they decide to punish them?”
“No, but parents should help children understand the reasons for their decisions,” answered Gabrielle.
“But what if the child is unable to understand these decisions, or if he’s too young for that? And what if the parents have reason to believe that it’s better for the child to not always know their reasons? And what if the parents think that it’s important for their children to try to understand the situation by themselves? Or if the parents want their child to learn to trust their judgment?”
Gabrielle shook her head. “But if we should trust you, why did you ask me yesterday if I was going to decide to do something?”
“Because I was waiting for you to do something. Because it wasn’t normal and acceptable that you do nothing. But there are all sorts of ways to intervene. Note that I much prefer that you use your body as a shield rather than begging me or trying to hurt me.”
“But don’t you think that it’s inevitable for a slave to rebel sometimes? What if a master tries to maim or kill a slave of the same house as us? Shouldn’t we intervene? Is it not our duty to protect our brothers and sisters? Aren’t there limits that even a master has no right to cross?” I asked.
“What are those limits, Max? You told me you belong to me, body and soul. This has pushed your limits and mine a lot, correct? Or were they just words?”
“I meant what I said, and I still do, Master.”
“So that means I could ask you to give me your eyes, for example.”
I gazed at him for a long time. Suddenly, I saw where he was going. We were not just going to practice rhetoric on the subject of slavery. I worshiped him, but was I ready to make such a sacrifice for him? I wanted to throw myself at his feet and tell him to take what he liked, but a small part of me bridled at the idea. Wasn’t it too much? Who was he to ask me to give him one of the most valuable parts of my body? What would I do without them? I knew that he saw my thoughts scrolling in those eyes he proposed taking away.
“Is it not asking too much, Master?” Gaby ventured in a tiny voice filled with awe.
“Too much to ask of whom? By whom? Should nobody have the right to ask that of anyone? Or is it too much to ask only those who are not ready to present such a gift?”
We reflected on all that had been said. Neither Gaby nor I knew what to say. The discussion was too crucial not to give it all the seriousness it deserved.
More than once, I had told my master that I belonged to him, and I had meant it. He had even told me, more or less jokingly, that I was part of his personal property, a machine in his service, and therefore he could do with me as he saw fit, require of me what he liked. And he did. Every day, he asked a little more of me, and every day I gave him more. Often I believed I was unable to perform one of his orders. Or I thought that I lacked the ability or experience to do so. Or it was my fears or shame that hindered me achieving everything he wanted. Yet I still managed to do what was asked. If I couldn’t even determine what was beyond my capabilities today, how could I know what would be too much in a month’s time, or a year’s? Furthermore, how could I accurately measure what was too much for another slave or the validity of the reasons and the scope of the actions of a master?
“I think we must give you our trust,” Gaby concluded. “If we don’t have enough faith to believe you can properly assess our capabilities and make appropriate decisions for us, it may be better to give up our lives as slaves or find another master who we could completely trust.”
Previously, I had learned that my master met Gabrielle in a bar several months before the day of the tattoo, and they had met several times after that. If Gabrielle had hesitated so long, it was not perhaps without reason. She must have taken time to think thoroughly about what being a slave would mean for her and hesitated to make her decision. Perhaps that’s why she came to the conclusion that, as a slave, she had to give herself fully or leave.
“Okay, Gabrielle, if you think you should give me your trust, were you right to intervene for Max?”
“Didn’t you say that you expected me to act?”
“What you just said is not an answer. It was another question. I’ll ask you again. Do you think you were right to intervene on Max’s behalf?”
“Yes, Sir. I still believe that I had to do something for him. But perhaps I should have done things differently.”
“What was wrong with what you did?”
Our master was right to compare us to children and himself to our parent. By choosing to be slaves, we handed all the responsibilities that normally lie with parents toward their young children into his hands. We expected everything from him. He had to feed us, clothe us and give us a home. He educated us and taught us everything we needed for our future life. Our joys and our sorrows were not to be kept from for him. He had to protect us and help us “grow”. But for our part, we had to give up our power to shape our own existence. Wasn’t it natural that we should provide him some fun and a bit of comfort in return?
“My attitude was that of someone who doubts your common sense,” Gaby offered. “I forced you to act against your will. By taking control of the situation, I took a role that was not mine.”
“But on many occasions I gave you proof that I was not accessible to your desire to save Max. You begged me several times to stop hitting him for your mistakes. Why should you have trusted my common sense?”
Gabrielle seemed lost in a fog.
“Max, do you have an answer?”
“Gaby didn’t try to understand the reasons for your actions or to convince you of her reasons for wanting to spare me, she just begged you to stop punishing me in her place and then did everything she could to force you to stop.”
“Max, do you think that I’m so stupid that I wouldn’t understand without an explanation her reasons for trying to protect you? If so, why did I continue to act in the same way even though she begged me to stop?”
“Maybe you had reasons that we didn’t know,” Gabrielle interjected. “Just because I didn’t manage to convince you to stop, it didn’t mean it was impossible for me to succeed.”
He ignored her and kept staring at me. “What would have convinced me to stop, and not punish one for the mistakes of the other? And why did I stop hitting you when I did?”
I knew now why he had asked me if I would be willing to give him my eyes. I also knew what would have persuaded him to stop punishing one for the other.
“We wanted to get something from you without giving anything in return, Master,” I responded. “We thought a few words, a few supplications, or some reasoning would be enough to sway you. But you have already shown me that words alone are not enough. If I’m sorry about something that I did, I can express my regret to you, but I must still pay for my faults, and I have to do my best to improve myself, otherwise you won’t believe my words of remorse. If I’m happy about something that you have done for me, I can thank you for it, but you’ll really believe in my gratitude when I show it by my actions. We were fools to think that it would be different this time.”
Gabrielle had her head down and looked pensive. Our master had told her that she knew what she could do to convince him not to punish me for her. Perhaps she now understood what it was. “So, Gabrielle, do you always want me to not punish Max instead of you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“What can you do to compel me not to whip him?”
“Master, I will do whatever you ask me.”
“No, Gabrielle. You have to offer something. I’ll let you know if what you’re ready to pay suits me.”
Gabrielle began to cry. I think she knew too well what our master expected of her, and the price seemed too high. I wanted to tell her not to worry on my behalf, I was happy to continue paying for her mistakes, but I knew that neither our master nor Gaby w
ould accept such an idea.
As always in these moments, our master was very patient. He gave Gaby plenty of time to calm down and think.
Eventually she spoke. “Could I turn the tables now and offer to pay for Max’s faults in addition to mine?”
“No, Gaby. You can’t. We can’t reverse the stream; the past is the past. Find something else.”
Gaby began to cry even louder. But our master considered that the time for tears was over.
“You’ve felt sorry for yourself long enough, Gaby. Now, what have you to offer that is worth what Max has done for you and to prove your affection for him?”
Gaby wiped her eyes and gazed at our master with an expression of despair. “I can’t, Sir. It’s too terrible. Just thinking about it, makes my head spin and makes me want to vomit.”
“I can go on punishing Max for your faults, you can leave for good, or you can offer me what you’re thinking about now. Three different options. Which one will you choose?”
Gaby shook her pretty head, covered now with a few days growth of shiny golden velvet.
I recognized this reaction: the body refusing to follow the demands of the spirit. I placed my hand on her shoulder to show her my understanding and lend my support. At first, she acted as if my hand were a giant caterpillar. Then she turned shadowed eyes to me, looking through me, as if she had just woken from a nightmare. Finally, she smiled. It was this smile that stuck, as if branded in my memory. Ah, my good little sister!
“You can chain me in your dungeon if you want.”
Our master gave her a compassionate smile and answered, “I do not want anything like that. But it’s a valid offer that I’ll accept, because I know how much it costs you to grant it to me.”
I knew that repeated experiences of incarceration had made her claustrophobic. What she was offering carried the same weight of suffering and horror as letting myself be locked up with thousands of centipedes, millipedes, caterpillars and other bugs. And I couldn’t believe that her agreement to be tormented with such an agony was all for me!
