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“Ines.”
At the Councilor’s word, Ines moves to the small, circular carpet set at the very center of the room and kneels facing the bed. She picks up the long, thin switch which I hadn’t noticed was on the carpet, bows her head down, sets her elbows beside her head and holds the whip in offering.
“She’s lovely like this, isn’t she?” Councilor Augustus asks, dragging his gaze from his wife’s prostrated body to me. My throat goes dry. He’s going to whip her and he’s going to make me watch. “Blue, if you will.” The Councilor gestures for me to have a seat.
“I don’t want to stay.”
“I’m afraid walking away is no longer an option. If I need to ask Maurice to take you to the chair, Ines will pay the price.” He begins to roll up his right shirt sleeve. Once it’s folded to his elbow, he raises his eyebrows to me.
Leaden legs carry me across to that chair and I take a seat. Maurice sets his hands on my shoulders, and I grip the edges of the chair.
The Councilor walks to his wife and takes the whip from her hands. She straightens, looks at me as she undoes the belt that holds her robe closed and pushes it off her shoulders. She’s naked beneath and I realize why her hair is up when she leans forward to offer her back to her husband.
“Lovely,” he says, turning a circle around her. “It took us a while to get here, didn’t it, Ines, but my wife has learned her place and on the appointed day and hour, her Hour of Atonement I like to call it, she kneels and offers her body for correction, don’t you, darling?” he asks, striking her shoulders, making her and me gasp.
“Silence. You know better.”
She nods, bows her head.
“No. For this week’s session, I want you to look at our guest. Maurice, you’ll tell me if my wife breaks eye contact. Blue, if you close your eyes or look away, I start at one, understand?”
I nod.
“Shall we begin?”
He does. And I watch, my eyes tearing for the woman, my hands gripping the edges of the chair hard as I watch Ines’s face, see her struggle to keep silent, to not cry as her husband, his control tight, punishes her for what sins I do not know.
“I didn’t miss the little joke you and Antoine shared last night,” he says, his focus entirely on his wife, his strokes growing harder as she fidgets, as her hands turn to fists and she struggles to remain still.
I want to look away, to close my eyes, but I know she’ll be punished for it and for as dry as her eyes remain, mine flow over and I lose count of the punishment.
“Tell me, did you like his kiss on your cheek? I saw you flush red. You’re still a whore, you know that?” he barks, striking so hard the switch breaks across her back. She cries out, falling forward. He grins an evil grin at the sound. He walks around to see her face as she resumes her position. “Still no tears, wife?”
She looks at him, the hate in her eyes unhidden. She doesn’t answer and her quiet only enrages him. He slaps her so hard that she falls over.
I turn away but Maurice grabs my face with his meaty hands and forces me to look.
“I want tears, Ines. I want your goddamned tears.”
She gets back up on her knees and stares up at him, her jaw set. That’s it. No words. No emotion. And definitely no tears. She’s getting strength from this. From his hate.
“Blood it is then. Have it your way.” He walks behind her, undoing his belt and pulling it from its loops. I see her brace herself as she locks eyes with me and when he lays into her, when he tells her to lift her hips and bury her face in the carpet, she turns her head, so she holds my gaze and as I see drops of blood fall from her thigh into the pristine white carpet, I watch her swallow back her tears, her pain.
I hate him. I want to kill him. And all I can do is sit here and watch, Maurice’s grip not allowing me to move.
The Councilor is grunting with the effort now, cursing. The bedroom door opens but he must not hear because he doesn’t stop the beating. I recognize one of the men who was searching the house. Maurice gets the Councilor’s attention. His hair is out of place and sweat drips from his forehead as he turns to face the man.
“Nothing, sir.”
When he looks back at me, he is fuming, snarling. He stalks toward me, and I lean so far in my chair the back of my head is pressed into Maurice’s stomach.
“Where. Is. It?” he screams.
In my periphery I see his wife straighten. I don’t break eye contact with him. With this monster.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I hiss, taking my cue from her.
Ines grins. I see it. She must have been suffering his wrath for all the years of their marriage. If she can stay steadfast and strong, I must.
