Whiplash Read online

  The half-conscious woman was using all her remaining strength to scream and beg for mercy, her hands and feet thrashing about but unable to break their binds. She got sick on herself, and when Eli urinated on her again, Lucas set the branding iron down in the dirt and peed on her, too. I cried for her, then. I didn’t know what she had done to earn that punishment, but I was sure her trespass couldn’t have warranted such brutality. Once the brothers were done peeing on her, they just walked away and left her there naked, bleeding, and barely conscious.

  I moved over to another hole in the wall to get a better vantage point so I could see her back. It looked awful, and I knew I’d never see anything so terrible ever again. She’d been whipped until her skin was laid open, exposing deep rivets of pink flesh from beneath the dark brown exterior. Some places had been split wide open, right down to the bone. Countless ‘D’s had seared her flesh, sealing up some of the wounds, and the smell of her burnt flesh stunk up the courtyard and lingered heavy in the air long after the twins had walked away.

  It took her about 2 hours to die in the stocks where she’d been left, but her body stayed out for us all to see for most of that day. It was right before supper when three field hands were sent to pull her out and dispose of her body out behind the barn.

  That happened every single day for a solid week. A total of seven women were stripped, whipped, branded, peed on, and left to die. I wondered if Julian knew about any of it. I thought maybe he did, and was just distancing himself with a blind eye turned. I hoped that wasn’t the case, but either way, by the time that week was over I’d have done anything anyone told me to do, and the rest of the girls felt the same.

  I was sure that it was no coincidence that on the eighth morning, Vivian came into the barn to wake us with Eli, Lucas, and ten of the biggest, strongest field slaves in tow. They all came in, and the slaves lined up in the middle of the barn while Vivian, Eli, and Lucas took their places at the front.

  Vivian went around to each stall, ordering each girl to remove the dress she wore and give it to her. She started with Number 1 and made her way around to each girl in sequence. Lucas was busy doing the same with the men, and Eli was standing with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a rifle in the other. I pulled off my dress while Vivian was still with Number 2; I wanted to use the time to have a good look at the twins. I figured if I were naked, they may not mind my staring so much. Eli took the bait and leered at me from over the top of his upturned bottle. Lucas paid me no mind at all, but rather kept working his way down the line collecting the field hands’ clothes.

  The twins looked exactly alike, and not at all like Julian. Whereas Julian was a big, green-eyed, red-haired beast of a man to behold, Eli and Lucas were only a few inches taller than me, both with brown eyes and fair hair. I could tell them apart only by a scar that ran from Eli’s left ear to the side of his mouth. Their extreme cruelty must have been an effort to compensate for being such small, unattractive, cowardly men. I couldn’t imagine that either of them were a prize to anyone.

  Vivian had just finished collecting Number 9’s dress and was stepping over to stand in front of my stall. I held it out for her, already neatly folded. She pretended to take it from my hand, and when I released the dress she did the same, dropping it onto a pile of moldy hay.

  “My apologies, Number 10,” she said with a smirk on her face as she picked it up and balled it up with the other dresses. I let her have her moment of triumph, too smart to let her goad me into a fight with her when only Eli and Lucas were around to step in for me. Lucas had just finished with the men as well, and he and Vivian wasted no time ushering a slave into each stall.

  At one point, Lucas tried to usher the biggest of the men into Number 5’s stall, but Vivian caught his hand before he could and sent a different man in instead. The biggest one was sent to my stall, and Vivian’s satisfaction with herself showed all over her face.

  “What be your name?” asked the black-skinned giant of a man who’d been locked in with me. I didn’t answer him, and I just stood there with my hands at my sides.

  “They call me Caesar.” I didn’t reply to that either. I knew what he was there for, and there was no cause for pleasantries at that time.

  Caesar was the biggest Negro on the entire plantation. He was about seven feet tall, with inky black skin and bloodshot eyes. He’d been known to cause trouble for overseers on occasion, but because he was the most productive slave the Devereauxs owned, his punishments were never severe enough to interfere with his work in any way. As much as the Devereauxs hated Negroes, their love of money knew no bounds. Caesar was a slaver’s dream - young, strong, and efficient; and no one – slave or otherwise – ever gave him any trouble.

  I so wanted to try and fight him off. I didn’t want to just hand my dignity over to him, but that wasn’t my choice to make. I let him grope and probe all of me. He spun me around slowly, obviously pleased with the appearance of my goosebumped, naked body. His breath – it was so awful. It was hot, and raw, and it made me nauseous. His lips slid down my cheek to the side of my neck, and he groaned with delight at the taste of my flesh. When my tears rained down my face, he licked those up with his coated tongue and then kissed me in the mouth. I closed my eyes to block out what was happening to me and was then overcome with the strangest feeling.

  At first, I felt a wave of sick coming on. Then, just as suddenly, I felt weightless. It was like my spirit came right out of my flesh; only, my spirit had eyes and could see what was happening to me.

  He lowered himself down and on top of me, fitting his wide frame between my legs. He threw my legs over his shoulders and positioned himself at the opening to my anus. My face twisted up in pain when he made to penetrate me, but he kept pushing forward until he broke through. I saw myself, my eyes closed up as tight as they would go while he pumped in and out of me like a piston. The sweat beaded up on him and dripped off his face and ran down my legs. He licked that up too, and that was what broke me.

  I cried out loudly, not saying anything in particular – I was just wailing out. My screams excited him, and he began to manhandle my breasts so roughly I thought they’d be torn from me. Every squeeze made me holler out, and every holler made him punch into me deeper and harder. I couldn’t lie still anymore – I clawed at his hands to pry them off of me. He removed them from my breasts, but only so he could wrap his tree-like arms around my legs for leverage.

  My eyes widened in terror as I struggled to take in air. I was powerless against Caesar as he pounded me harder and harder. From above, I watched my body begin to grow slack. Right before I passed out, he quickened his stroke to thrust into me a few more times before he tensed up, gritted his teeth together, and then fell to the side in a satiated heap.

  Nearly-freezing water splashed over me, shocking and jolting me out of my slumber. Vivian stood over me with an empty bucket and a scowl on her face.

  “Get up, Number 10,” Vivian barked at me. It took me a moment to even realize where I was or what’d happened. It all came flooding back, and I scooted back to the corner of my stall and cowered in a ball, looking around frantically with my chin resting on my bent knees.

  “Go on down to the pond and clean yourself up. You’ve already lost an hour, and your quota for today is the same as it was yesterday.” Vivian tossed a small, white cloth and a dress into the stall before she turned her back and walked away.

  I saw several hay needles caked together with blood near the gate of the stall. A red trail led from the pile straight to where I was sitting, and another puddle was forming under me. I gingerly touched my anus and pulled back a sticky, blood-coated hand. The blood smeared on my cheek as I wiped away a tear.

  “Go on, Number 10,” someone whispered. I looked up and saw that Number 9 was peeking over the divider between our two stalls. She looked down at me with sorrowful eyes and reached her arm over, offering her assistance in helping me stand. I grabbed her hand and she pulled as hard as she could until I was in a kneeling
position. I released my grip on her, planted my hands on the ground, and carefully stood up. On shaky legs, I walked over to where she was and held her hand again for a few seconds. She understood my unspoken thanks and mouthed ‘you’re welcome.’

  It took me a long time to get to the water’s edge. The water was cold, and I dipped my cloth in it and gently patted my torn opening. It took nearly an hour before the towel came back free of blood. I pulled my dress on and turned to leave. I had just made it to the top of the slope when I heard a familiar rustling sound coming from the cane field. I knew it had to be him, and in a moment of both insanity and clarity I went to him.

  By the time I made it close enough to reach out and touch the stalks, his arm was jutting out with his hand opened and waiting. I didn’t hesitate to place my hand in his, and his fingers wrapped around mine and pulled me into the field. I let him pull me through the towering crops with my eyes cast down to the ground. We walked slowly, one step at a time, for a few dozen yards before we stepped out into a clearing.

  Upon looking at the ground, I saw that the stalks had been pulled up from the spot completely. Three or four blankets were stacked up neatly to one side, and he spread out all but one of them to make a pallet. The last one, he folded up to fashion into a cushion for me before pulling me down to the ground with him. I wasn’t at all afraid or uneasy, so when he covered me with the other blanket and wrapped his arms around me, I just melted into him and cried. I made such a terrible mess of his shirt and coat, but he let me cry until I couldn’t anymore, all the while stroking my braided hair and shushing me softly.

  “What is your name?” he asked.

  “Lily,” I said without any hesitation.

  “Comment joli.”

  “What?” I asked when I didn’t understand what he’d said.

  “How lovely,” he translated. “Lily… comment joli.”

  It felt so good to hear my name on someone’s lips – my real name, the one given to me, in love, by my mama. I wanted him to say it over and over again until the end of forever.

  “And yours? What is your name?”

  “Beau,” he told me in his raspy, deep voice.

  I craned my neck to look up at him, and kept my eyes fixed on his until his lips came down closer to mine. He kissed me once softly and my eyes fluttered closed. I felt the pain that Caesar caused start to melt away, and I placed my hand behind his head to pull him down to kiss me again.

  When he did, I wrapped my arms around his neck, and hugged him to my body tight while I laid down beneath him. His kiss grew with passion, yet remained so reverent and tender and as he lifted my dress and began to make love to me, I welcomed his touch. He was careful and loving, never once breaking the kiss or taking his eyes off of me. For the first time in my whole life, my body was given rather than taken. He used his body to claim mine, and I knew in that moment that even though Julian owned me, I belonged to Beau. Afterwards, we parted ways and I wasn’t even halfway back to the barn before I longed for his touch again.

  It had been hours since I’d left to go down to the pond. I steeled my nerves in preparation to face Vivian, and was even ready to explain myself for being gone for so long. I thought she’d believe me if I told her I passed out on the banks. I’d already blacked out once after the events that took place that morning, so falling into another sleep wasn’t completely out of the question. But when I got back inside the barn, not only did I not find Vivian there, I saw that my sugarcane had already been stripped, stacked, and bundled – all of it. I looked to the other girls for an explanation, but they were all frowning at me with contempt; all except one, that is – Number 9.

  Just then the barn door opened, and Vivian walked through it with Julian right behind her.

  “Well well, my lovelies. Haven’t we been a busy bunch today?” Julian’s eyes were set straight on me, and his tone was rich with mockery; as was Vivian’s grin. “I’d say our girls here must have worked especially hard today. Everyone’s load is already cleaned and ready for press. I must say I’m very impressed. Aren’t you, Vivian?”

  “Yes, it’s quite impressive, indeed. I’ll go and prepare for tonight, Sir. Girls, I will see you all at supper.”

  “Very well, then. I will escort them to the pavilion, and you can come collect them when you’re ready.”

  Under the pavilion that night I sat next to Number 9, and for the first time since we’d arrived at the plantation, I talked to someone as a friend.

  “Thank you,” I said to her in between bites of sweet corn.

  “It’s no trouble, Number 10. We’re all in this together, and I know how much Miss Vivian hates you. I just didn’t want to see you get into any more trouble.” She placed her hand over mine and smiled at me gently.

  “Yes, she does… but I rest at night knowing the feeling is mutual.”

  “My name is Hannah, by the way. I’d like it if you called me that.”

  Hannah was a petite Mulatto girl, very pretty and demure. I remembered picking her up at a slave auction just before we crossed the Mississippi River. She had a pleasant disposition even then, and I admired her indomitable spirit.

  “Well Hannah, I’m very pleased to meet you,” I told her sincerely.

  I thought about whether or not I should tell her my name. Only three people had ever called me by it, and two of them were gone. I trusted Beau, and giving him my name was like giving him a special part of me that no one else could get. Still, Hannah had helped me recover earlier in the afternoon, and she’d saved me from bearing the brunt of Vivian’s wrath.

  “I’m Lily. I’d like it if you used my name, too.”

  Vivian came into view a few seconds later, carrying a lantern.

  She called us to attention before we were lined up in order and escorted out of the pavilion. We rounded the curve where the barn sat, and continued on until we turned left onto a dirt path that cut alongside the east side of the pond. The lantern Vivian was holding gave off just enough light for us to see our way.

  “How much more walking you think we got?” asked Hannah, her teeth chattering loud enough to be heard. In the short time since supper, the wind had shifted and turned icy. Late December in southern Louisiana wasn’t ever warm, but it was bitingly cold that night. As a matter of fact, my thinly-shod feet almost slipped on the thin sheet of ice forming on the stairs of the manor’s porch.

  The manor was a great big house set across the pond from the barn. When we’d first arrived at the plantation, the building wasn’t yet tall enough to be seen over the cane stalks. We’d always heard lots of commotion and carrying-on back off in that field, but of course none of us were so inclined to go find out what exactly was happening back there. All we knew was that from sun-up to sundown the sounds of construction echoed over the compound from back there. By the time mid-autumn came around, a shell of a building could be seen peeking up over the fields. In early December, the carpenter slaves finished building it – by late December, it was furnished and made ready for me and the other girls.

  Ivory concrete encased the grand monstrosity known as Maison Devereaux. Several columns stood in front of the structure, giving it a stately appearance. There were two stories to the house, and the entire top floor was fronted by a balcony, creating an equally large porch for the bottom level. I counted twelve windows on the face of it, and I just knew the inside would be grand in size and beauty. It took only a few steps onto the porch and through the front door to discover that I hadn’t been at all wrong.

  Upon entering the manor, we were led through a narrow corridor before stepping out into a foyer. It was completely quiet in there, save for Julian’s lazy whistling coming from the top of the staircase. He took a moment to look over each of us before descending the staircase slowly.

  “Good evening,” he called to us when he’d almost reached the bottom step. “Welcome to your new home.”

  Several gasps and whispers could be heard bouncing off the high ceilings of the palatial house. Julian looked do
wn on all of us with pride, and clapped his hands together to silence us so we could listen to what he had to say.

  “You’ve all earned your position here. I plan on running a classy establishment; one with superior women and select clientele. If you ladies hold up your end of the bargain, your life will be something you couldn’t ever have dreamed of.”

  Oohs and aahs came from nearly every girl. The only one not impressed with the situation was me. Julian avoided eye contact with me, making great effort to look anywhere except for where I was standing. I was angry with him for distancing himself from me. Before earlier that afternoon, I hadn’t been anywhere near Julian since that day at his cottage. I’d changed so much since then, and even blamed him for what Caesar had done.

  He took the final step down the stairs, hooked a sharp left, and walked over toward a dimly lit room fronted by mid-level swinging doors. I swiveled my head smoothly to the right, watching his every move. He had to know I was looking at him. However, he held on to his aloofness with minimal convincingness.

  His boots scuffed the floor as he came to a halt right in front of the two swinging wooden panels. He lowered his chin, and turned his head to the right just enough to be detected. His eyes were downcast on the floor, but I could still feel them on me - kind of like he was looking at me without even seeing me. He let out a breath and then disappeared through the doors, into the shadowy room.

  Vivian brusquely cleared her throat, redirecting my attention to her. She was standing at the front of the group, holding a set of keys.

  “Well ladies – if y’all are ready, we’ve got just enough time for a brief tour before it’s time for bed.” I looked around at the other girls and some of them seemed excited, even eager to begin the tour. I suppose it wasn’t all that odd. The barn we’d been living in was no suitable place for anyone, let alone a woman. But still, we weren’t guests at the manor. We were the goods.