by Jon Thorn
'My name is Felicia Quinliven. I have just had my eighteenth birthday. I live in District Twelve. Three months ago I was a tribute in the Pain Games. My sister Anastasia was a tribute too. I have not seen her since that day.'
I repeat those words to myself as I come through the door of my home. They help me to focus. They remind me to keep the anger burning.
I come through the door and there is something different about the house. I sense it immediately. It is not empty, there is someone there. Ana! Ana is home! My heart leaps for a moment before it sinks - it is not her. There is someone there but it is not my sister. There is a scent in the air, a perfume, and Anastasia cannot afford perfume, none of us can. My stomach lurches as my mind makes the connection. I have smelled that perfume before and the memory it invokes is not a good one.
It is the scent of Imogen Goldthorpe. She took my sister with her at the end of the Pain Games. There is not a day that goes past without me yearning for Ana or feeling sick at the thought of what that evil woman is putting her through. And now she is here, in my home, invading our private space as she invaded it so traumatically three months ago. The nightmares have ceased but the memories can catch me unawares. A click that reminds me of those plastic cuffs around my wrists, or a swish of a branch in the wind that sounds like a cane cutting the air. These can have me back in the arena in an instant.
I push open the kitchen door and there she is, sitting at our kitchen table, beautiful, elegant, ice cold.
"Felicia," she smiles. "How lovely to see you again."
"I wish I could say the same," I spit.
"Oh gosh," she says, "I can see that you have the same spirit that made your sister so attractive."
'Made'! Why is she speaking in the past tense? What has happened to Anastasia, what have they done to her? My mouth goes dry, I can hardly speak.
"Anastasia?" I managed to croak.
"Oh, she is well. She amuses me still, but she pines after you, which I find rather tiresome."
My heartbeat steadies. She is alive then.
"When is she coming home?" I demand.
Miss Goldthorpe fixes me with her cold grey eyes. I can sense amusement and calculation in the way she looks at me.
"I'm glad you raise the subject, Felicia," she says calmly. "I know that both of you are keen to get back together. It's what I've come to talk to you about. Sit down."
I sit. Strange to be invited to sit in your own home but I don't question it. If I can get Anastasia back I will do anything.
She gives me another cool, appraising look. "Still as pretty as ever, Felicia," she remarks. "The public liked that - liked the young and innocent look. You were very popular, you and your sister, very popular indeed. It might surprise you to learn that there has been a huge demand to see more of you both. Last year's Pain Games was the most successful in history. And that was in no small measure down to you and Anastasia."
Am I meant to be pleased about that? Pleased that so many people enjoyed watching Ana and me getting spanked and paddled and caned? I acknowledge her comment with little more than a nod of my head.
"I'd like to give the public what they want, Felicia. Of course we can't run another Pain Games until next year, the law does not allow another Choosing until then. Next year it will be the boys' turn and, although there might be a chance of your name coming out the following year, it's a slim chance and by then Anastasia will be too old. So instead I'm planning another little entertainment, rather like the Pain Games, but with a different twist. And since there can't be a Choosing, I'm asking for volunteers. Which is why I'm asking you."
I stare at her in amazement. Does this woman really think that I am going to volunteer to put myself through all that again? To choose to be beaten and humiliated in front of the whole country, purely for their entertainment?
I shake my head. "No!" I say, vehemently. "No way am I going back in the arena."
"Oh that is a shame," she says silkily. "I really did think you were fonder of your sister than that..." she leaves the phrase hanging in the air and makes to stand up.
"No, wait!" I say urgently. "What do you mean? What's it got to do with Anastasia?"
"Let me help you understand, Felicia," she says, sitting back on the chair, "There is a lot of interest in your sister. She is beautiful. She responds to pain in a way that many of us find rather enticing. So far I have resisted the offers that have come my way, but if I were to grow tired of her... well then I might be tempted. And once she is no longer a part of my household... well who knows what might become of her... or whether you will ever see her again."
I am numbed by the naked threat in her words. If I do not 'volunteer' then Anastasia will never be free. She will be used and abused, a plaything of the Capitol. She will never come home. A couple of days of pain and humiliation is nothing compared to the years of it that Anastasia is facing.
"So if I agree...?"
"Then you and your sister will be back together... permanently. You have my word."
Her word. It's worth nothing, but it's all the hope that's on offer.
"Ok... I'll do it," I say. "I'll volunteer for your 'entertainment', whatever it is."
"Good," she smiles, "I'm glad you've seen sense, Felicia. Would you be interested to know what we're calling the show?"
"Go on..." I say guardedly.
She smiles that horrid cold smile. "We're calling it 'Whipping Girl'," she says and my stomach somersaults again.
There is no time for goodbyes. A letter will be left for my mother. I do not need to pack. All my needs will be taken care of. The train to the Capitol is waiting for us.
It is a strange and lonely journey to the Capitol. I never expected to be going back there so soon. I hoped I would never return to that dazzlingly cruel place. Miss Goldthorpe has her own compartment on the train, and I do not see her on the journey. The only people I do see are my own prep team. They are childishly excited to see me again and insist on telling me all the Capitol gossip as they get to work on me. The gossip means nothing to me but at least it's a distraction from the full body wax they insist on giving me. They want me as smooth and hairless as I was three months ago.
When we arrive at the Capitol they take me straight to the accommodation. A similar anonymous block to last time. However, I am not taken to my room but to a large conference room. They are waiting for me, the other competitors in this show and as I look around the room I realise that it's not just me who's putting in a repeat performance.
Rachal is looking as lovely as ever. Her auburn hair hangs loose around her shoulders. She flashes me a smile from the other side of the room. Therese also greets me with a grin but I get no acknowledgement from the other two girls I recognise; Concietta and Yasmin. My mind races as I try to work out how Goldthorpe persuaded them to volunteer. Maybe Concietta and Yasmin wanted chance for revenge on each other, but Rachal and Therese? I can't begin to imagine why they would put themselves through this again.
There are five other girls whom I don't recognise at all. Unlike the five of us they are whispering and giggling amongst themselves. Then I realise, with a shock, that these aren't girls from the Districts like us, these are Capitol girls! Their manner says that they haven't been coerced into this, which must mean that Miss Goldthorpe really has got some volunteers. They must be utterly mad or idiotic or both.
Miss Goldthorpe enters the room and it immediately stills. She is an intimidating presence, for all of us, District or Capitol alike.
"Welcome," she says with false sincerity, "And thank you for having the courage to volunteer for Whipping Girl. You've all seen the Pain Games over the years, indeed five of you were tributes earlier in the year. Whipping Girl is going to be similar, but not the same. So let me explain how it's going to work."
She has our attention now, we all want to hear what we're in for. She starts to spell it out.
"There will be five rounds, spread over two days, with a final punishment for the loser concluding the proceedings," she says.
So far, so familiar. I shift uneasily on the padded bench, aware that at the moment I am sitting comfortably, a luxury that won't be afforded to me over the next couple of days.
"Each round will follow the format we introduced for the final round of this year's Pain Games. All will be Hunters, all will be Prey. Every girl will wear the red thread and if an opponent removes it from her, then she has been captured - with potentially painful consequences. I say 'potentially' for in this version punishment is never certain. Our show is called 'Whipping Girl' and there is a reason for that. In ancient times there was a tradition that someone of noble birth could not be subject to corporal punishment. If they misbehaved then another would be punished in their stead - a whipping boy or whipping girl. And so it is with our little bit of fun. We have our very own Whipping Girl."
As soon as she said it I know who it must be. Oh Ana! My darling sister - why must you be the one to suffer? Haven't they punished you enough?
There is a pair of double doors at the front of the conference room. They swing open and there she is, framed in the doorway, looking as lovely as ever. She is beautifully dressed in a sheath of navy blue silk. Her hair has been artfully arranged high on her head showing off her slender neck and delicate ears. I see her gaze around the room and our eyes meet just for a moment before she looks away.
"Anastasia Quinliven!" Miss Goldthorpe breathes. "Anastasia has nobly volunteered to take on the role of Whipping Girl. I think she deserves our applause."
We all clap, me louder than anyone. I see Yasmin and Concietta exchange a look. I know what they are thinking. After what happened in the Pain Games they think that Anastasia enjoys it. That she wants to put herself through all that pain again because it excites her to do so. I do not know what to think. I am utterly confused about it. I saw how she reacted, had to watch her reach her orgasm before my very eyes. But does that mean that being punished is something she welcomes, something she seeks? I find that very hard to believe. I long to be able to speak to her, to find out the truth.
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