[Adelina]

THWACK!

Ivy jumped up from the desk, taken completely by surprise. She knew what had been coming, but she’d had no idea how it would feel. Perhaps she had expected the paddle to be as insubstantial as the man wielding it, but it was decidedly very solid. The blow that had just landed on her backside was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. It really hurt!

In an instant, Ivy had thoroughly changed her mind about indulging this ghostly intruder, wanting nothing to do with him or his wretched paddle, the very same one she’d admired so casually when she’d found it in the attic just a few short hours ago.

“Take your position, Julia.”

Ivy whirled around to face the young man, her eyes blazing.

“Stop calling me that!”

Their gazes locked, and for a full minute, neither of them said a word. She studied his face, trying to glean what he was thinking, or if he was even thinking at all. He simply stood, motionless, paddle in hand, poised and ready for the next strike, as if someone holding a remote control had hit the pause button. It was only when she stamped toward the door that he made any sound.

“Julia, please!”

Slowly, Ivy turned to look again at the stranger in her bedroom. His voice had sounded different this time, not so cold and vacant, with a hint of desperation. His arm was still raised, weapon still held high, but there was a pleading expression on his face that tugged at Ivy’s heartstrings and engaged her pity.

“Do you really need to do this?” Ivy asked.

“Yes. Please.”

Ivy sighed, deeply and heavily. She felt so uncertain about this whole situation, but there seemed to be little doubt about what needed to be done in order to free this poor soul from his earthly prison. She didn’t know him, but she knew what it was to feel helpless and hopeless. He was asking her for help. And there was no good reason for her not to give it, save for the preservation of comfort.

Slowly, with a slight sense of nervous dread, Ivy stepped back toward the desk and once again bent forward, offering herself to the handsome spectre.

“Very good, Julia.”

Ivy had just enough time to savor the compliment before the next blow fell.

THWACK!

Ivy gritted her teeth, biting back a scream. The pain imparted by the paddle was shocking to her, and she prayed there would not be much more to endure.

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

On it went, again and again. Ivy soon lost count of how many times the paddle struck her. A deep, burning ache set in. She felt very certain she could not take much more. She was not ready for this. It was too much! But she’d made her decision to help… but, oh, how it hurt!

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

And then, just as she felt she needed to give up, a most peculiar sensation overtook her mind and her body, all at once, a sort of peaceful resignation. Her agitation seemed to disperse like the ripples on the lake below her window. She still felt pain… but it did not seem disturbing to her anymore. She took it, relished it, drank it in like a fine wine. Each stroke was like a wave crashing over her, making her shiver and moan; yet she felt safe, held in her distress.

It took Ivy a few moments of silence to realize that the surrogate punishment had ended. Her head was still swimming, but she was vaguely aware that there was movement behind her in the room. She heard a scratching sound, and a soft thunk, and then, barely audible, the sound of footfalls exiting the room.

Ivy turned to risk a look, but there was nothing to see. The room was empty. Ghost and paddle had both disappeared.

Quickly rising to her feet, she scurried out into the hall and looked toward the balcony, where the screen door was swinging shut. A short run, a turn of the handle, and she could see that the balcony, too, was vacant.

Brows furrowed in perplexed disbelief, Ivy went back into the hallway and straight to the stairs which led to the attic. She ascended, a bit slowly, owing to the very real tenderness behind. Up into the attic proper she went, and made a beeline for the dresser where she’d first found the paddle.

There it was, tucked away in its simple box, as if it had been there all along.
And yet, something had changed; for when Ivy slid the age-old pages of the log from underneath the red velvet lining, she noticed that the last number in the second column had been filled in: 37.

Ivy stared at the page, idly rubbing her sore bottom. A smile tugged at her lips. She had helped this handsome soul free himself from this world, clearing a path for him to move on to his afterlife.

And in doing so, it seemed that she had freed a part of herself as well.