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Crime
and Punishment
Copyright Neil Wills August 2002
I
had done wrong I knew that. Circumstances had
conspired to lead me here. I had never liked
Gavin or his ginger hair and gappy teeth. I
didn't like his new bike and I didn't like the
way he spoke to me at school. The razor blade
had just been lying there, next to his bike,
outside his parent's flat. A few deft stripes on
the saddle had given me some satisfaction but,
it was a silly thing to do in front of other
kids. Inevitably, the consequences were to be
realised. It was a Saturday evening it happened.
I guess my timing was out. There were other
things going on which were effecting my parent's
relationship and home life was fraught. I caught
the brunt of it.
A scream, involuntarily exploded from my lungs.
The pain had taken me by surprise as the first
strike spanned my back. My eight year old
reasoning had certainly doubted my father's
assurance that it would hurt him more than me
but, the reality was worse than I could have
imagined. I looked at my hands. The tanned
fingers had turned white at the knuckles. My
fingernails were white as I gripped the end of
the bed. The pain had not subsided when the
second, third and fourth stroke hit in a flurry
of anger. It amplified and lingered longer than
before and, at the next stroke I felt I was
drowning under a wave of surging pain.
Sherry's claws scrabbled for purchase on the
wooden floor. Terrified, she rocketed away
through the door as if being pursued by next
door's cat. She had misread the lead being taken
down as a hopeful sign of recreation.
Another stroke hit and I took off. As I moved,
the leather lead connected with my naked
buttock. The sting on a fresh place spurred me
on as if a horse under the jockey's whip. As I
jumped on the bed I turned and saw my father in
pursuit. His hand was drawn back. The trailing
lead poised for the next strike, hung down to
the polished wooden floor. I tried to push
through the clinging mosquito net but couldn't
shift it. The lead descended as I scrabbled
desperately at the net and caught me on the side
of the head and neck. I screamed again and
dodged around him.
I skidded around the corner of the bed and had
the satisfaction of seeing his next blow
thwarted by billowing net. In a panic I threw
myself under the bed. The lead smacked the floor
behind me and I crouched in a ball, watching
keenly as he tried to flick me from the side. If
it didn't hurt so much it would have been
comical. If he joined me on the floor under the
bed, he couldn't bring the lead to bear with
full force. Yet, by standing, he couldn't target
me properly and his snapping flicks were wildly
inaccurate. I watched his feet move around the
bed and responded by crawling to the opposite
side of the bed again. His white socks bulged
out of the sides of his sandals and, like a
cartoon character, any sudden movement or change
of direction inevitably caused his feet to slip
and slide inside the leather before transmitting
the movement to the sandals. I expected his body
to come crashing down at any moment.
I don't know how long this game of cat and mouse
continued but, it descended into farce. The feet
strode noisily to the bottom of the bed, watched
all the time by my tearful eyes, paused, then
charged back to catch me unawares. The lead
snapped and searched like a poisonous snake in
the humid air of the Singapore evening. I was
too quick for him now and ever watchful.
Eventually, accompanied by curses and dire
threats, the sandals slapped their way out
through the bats-wing door of the bedroom. All
of our rooms had such doors to aid circulation
of air. My room had two, one on either side of
the room.
I could see his shadow on the veranda outside
the door. I knew he was waiting. I slid to the
opposite side of the bed and felt the welt now
burning my cheek with my dirty, sweating
fingers. He must've sensed my movement because
the door burst open and he charged back again
swinging. The lead, harmlessly met still air and
his panting was interrupted by a curse. 'Come
out now son. It's all over'. I waited. 'Come on
now. Let's put an end to this'. I said nothing.
The feet paced to the bottom of the bed. 'Come
on now. Out you come'. Silence.
Suddenly, his feet disappeared into the air and
I felt the full weight of his body thump onto
the mattress. A new tactic. I froze as the bed
rocked and rolled above me. His grunting grew in
volume, interspersed with more curses. The
mosquito net was hampering his progress just as
it had mine. He began shouting to me to come out
or it would be worse for me. 'How much worse'? I
thought. 'Bloody well stay here all night if I
need to'.
Eventually he stomped off out of the room again.
All was silent for a long time but, ……I
could see the toe of one sandal just poking out
past the door jamb. I settled down for a long
wait. Time passed and Sherry crept back to join
me under the bed. I lay with my head on hers,
stroking her tummy as she panted. All was quiet,
perhaps too quiet and then, too late, I realised.
A strong hand grabbed my ankle and began to drag
me out from my refuge. He'd decoyed me with the
sandal and come through the other door.
I was in bed by the time my mother came home and
I heard raised voices as I lay, with tears
trickling into my ears. My mother came in and
stood looking at me in the scented, noise filled
tropical night. She thought I was asleep and she
shooed Sherry off my bed and tucked the mosquito
net in. I never heard any more about that
incident but, my father seemed quiet and
diffident in my presence the next day and for
some time afterwards. I knew I had been very
bad. I had deserved to be punished and I'd
learnt a very valuable lesson but, the silver
lining to all this was at Changi beach the next
day. Friends of my parents and parents of my
friends took note of the bruises and welts on my
skin and asked.
I didn't tell them why but I certainly told them
who and when.
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