Chapter 1 Part 2
 

           I had realized that I had started to grind my teeth, but I have no intentions to stop. Say yes, Kalvan, I thought to myself, silently pleading for a miracle to happen; silently crying that Calejah wouldn’t take out his whip. Kalvan had to be at least sixty years old, and it was certain that he would not be able to survive getting sixty lashes.

            That is how we take care of punishments here in Temar. One lash for every year the guilty man or woman had been alive, or sometimes they would just get beat, send to prison, or sometimes even worse things one could never imagine. I remember my first time getting punished. I was nine.
Our school went to the community prison, which is really just a cement building with small individual holes in the walls with metal bars stood as doors. I had noticed that the inmates looked tired and hungry, so I snuck away from my group and took some food. I went to each individual cell and handed everybody what I could grab. I was caught of course, and given nine fine lashes to my back.
            “No,” Kalvan answered steadily.
            I tried to restrain myself from saying anything. Calejah smirked, and walked around Kalvan. He looked around at all of us. He looked into my eyes for a brief, ice cold second.
            “Well then,” Calejah said, shooting an evil grin, “unless someone else would like to step up, we shall proceed with the punishment.”
            I looked around the large sea of people surrounding Calejah, Kalvan and a handful of guards. I saw a few teenagers laughing and making bets between each other on what punishment might be given, and whether or not Kalvan would survive. My throat dry, my feet aching with nerves shooting up to my knees, I stepped forward.
            Calejah looked at me, so did Kalvan.
            “No, Samariah,” Kalvan said, giving me a stern look, “I can take it,”
            Everyone was looking at me, though I could only see Kalvan standing with me. I don’t remember ever giving Kalvan my name, but I brushed off the question. There was a more important question hanging in the air.
            “How many would you get?” I asked him. I could tell that he was going to deny my sacrifice for him, but to my surprise he answered.
            “Sixty-nine,” Kalvan let out. He is modest, and denies help from me.
            “Seventeen is better than sixty-nine,” I said, putting my hands on his and looking into his lost gray eyes, “I will take the punishment for this man.”
            “Samariah, are you sure?”
            I nodded, and with that, Kalvan was pushed aside by some guards, and all eyes were fixed on me. I watched as his children and grandson hug him with tears in their eyes. Everyone watched as I placed my hands on the wooden bar in front of me. Calejah took out his whip with a firm grip, and began hitting.
            I was caught off guard when the first one came, causing me to scream. I held in the pain with the others, and as the last couple hit my back, I crumbled into a ball on the dirt ground. I could feel myself tearing up, as Calejah walked away with a glare in his dark brown eyes.
            My father is standing over me now, reaching down to carry me back to our home. He tried to be as gentle as he could while lifting my bleeding body, though the smallest amount of pressure causes agonizing pain. I could see in his eyes that he wasn’t happy, but he would never be caught admitting it.