I Hate You!"Please, Baba." I addressed my father in a whiny voice, something I knew he hated.
He paused his advance and clucked his tongue. "Nilofar, really? You're almost 12, act like it!" He was determined, but so was I.
"You don't have to beat me, Baba. I won't do it again!" I couldn't stop myself from pleading no matter how angry and annoyed it made my father.
"Get over here, girl!" He ordered.
I stayed rooted to the ground and didn't budge. "Please, Baba."
His blue eyes blazed. "Get over here dammit! You've been bad, so you might as well pay the piper now."
I knew I shouldn't have hid out all day to avoid doing any chores and yelled at Baba when he tried to chide me for doing so.
"Those skinny legs of yours' had better be over here by the time I get to one or you're gonna be sorry." Baba threatened.
I had a little mental chat with my legs, but they refused to walk toward Baba and his strap.
"Very well." He said when I didn't move.
My father was a big man, more tall than wide though. He was across the room, grabbing my ear and dragging me back toward the couch before I even realized he was advancing on me. "You're almost 12, but you're still just a little girl. You can't even come and get a hiding that you've earned!" Baba lectured me as he dragged me back.
I bit back tears to avoid being told I was a baby again.
"Now let's see if you can at last behave like a big girl." Baba sat down on the couch and waited for me to make a move.
I stepped between his legs and allowed his large hand to guide me over his left knee, until my face was only inches from the floor.
"Hands, Nilofar." He stated.
I wasn't so quick to reach back.
"Fine, but you had better keep them in FRONT of you, understand?" Baba didn't force me to comply. "I'll have no screaming or running away, girl child." He told me. "You are not to utter a word, no matter how much you want to."
The strap rose and fell, catching the under hang of my raised bottom.
I didn't even try to be brave, rather I yelped and reached back a hand to rub the sting. My reward was a 'hot hand' , when the strap hit across my wrist.
"I hate you!" I yelled.
"Go to Hell!" I added.
My Baba refused to respond. He let the strap do all the talking, raising welts from my hips clear down to my knees.
I bucked and squirmed as the fire turned white hot, but I refused to break down into sobs.
I barely noticed when the licks ceased to come.
Baba without an ounce of pity stood me back on my feet and muttered. "There. Maybe that'll settle you down."
I gave him a look of pure hatred.
"That's fine by me." He said. "But if you say it, you're going straight back down for another chat with this strap, is that what you want?"
I ignored him.
I refused and stalked off.