I can barely remember the individual swats: all I remember is the intense burning pain and a blurry red haze as the tears fell from my eyes. I’m sure that Mother Frances was scolding me while she administered the paddling, but I didn’t hear a word that she said after the warning to move my hand. Later Maureen would tell me that Mother Frances hit me eight times and that by the third blow I was bawling like a baby. I don’t remember being told to return to my seat, but I do remember Mother Veronica holding my shoulder to steady me when she saw that my knees were weak. I also remember the searing pain as I tried to sit down. I popped up, then lowered myself down again more slowly. Then, under the cover of my desk, I felt between my legs.
Catholic School in New England22
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