beaten

It was a typical lazy afternoon. David was asleep in his cot. Mum was doing some household chores in the kitchen. Me? I was playing with my toys.

The boredom inevitably set in. The quietness somehow encouraged me to do something different. I climbed up and sat by the bedroom window. I stared down the block. Wow, this is high, I thought. 11th floor, mind you. Eyes still searching for something interesting, I was fiddling with the basket of clothing by the window. They all belonged to my brother and me.

Then, the devil spoke. He sounded brilliant, I thought. The persuasion began to take effect and gradually, the temptation set in. Don’t hesitate…just do it, I thought again.

The hand picked up the first piece. The movement was then swift. Now, the hand was outside the window. The fingers finally relented too. David’s shirt was on its way down to the ground. The mind was highly amused. How could this be fun? But it was indeed fun! The hand picked up the second piece and moved out of the window promptly. The fingers released the item and my shirt was gone. HAHA! This was exciting. Then, the mind, the hand and the fingers collaborated in tossing the pieces of clothing out of the window one by one. The experience was beyond description.

Mum started calling for me. I did not respond. I was too busy. Never had so much pleasure.

The activity was intense. I would never have imagined that it could be so enjoyable. Shirts, trousers, mittens, socks, etc. All of them were not spared.

Mum called for me again. I was too engrossed to respond again. Such joy!

More than half the basket was already gone. Mission half-accomplished. He told me to finish the job. I was convinced I had a destiny. I carried on.

Mum called for me once more. The climax had heightened. Nothing could stop me from completing my task. Nothing could…

“What are you doing?” shouted Mum as she stepped in. Her jaws dropped, eyes stared in disbelief. My mind went blank. I did not know how to answer her question. The next thing I knew, I was whacked with a hanger many times. The devil? Nowhere in sight! That despicable bloke had left me in the lurch!

The pain on my limbs was new to me. I had never got beaten until that day. All I could do was to cry incessantly. Plenty of reprimanding to endure too.

Moments later, I was ordered to follow her out of our home. We went to retrieve what were lost. We had to go floor by floor to knock on our neighbours’ doors. At the end of the search, we managed to get back 80% of our clothes. More scoldings followed.

The poor four-year-old had his first taste of getting beaten that day.