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The first time Kit Walker got caned, he cried. For his mother, for Alma, for God Almighty to stop the sharp pain and contrasting dull numbness.
The second time Kit Walker got caned his hips bucked against the oak desk and he almost moaned- every strike relieving one of his many worries.
The third time Kit Walker got caned he came against the soft blue of his pants and had to hide it behind his hands.
He had no idea being caned so brutally would relieve his aches and worries that haunted his many waking hours in the hellhole. He had no idea that being caned with the heavy wooden tools would make him relax so, even enough to relish the marks and the uncomfortable twinge as he sat or laid down. But there it was- a ready made solution to his problem. A solution he sought on many more occasions.
He stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, pulling his pants down and aside to glimpse the marks. They were wide and red and angry but they still soothed his erratic mind. His worries melted away and he relaxed for a moment- a strange moment of peace in the horrible place. He brushed his fingers against them and shivered, making a whining noise.
"Walker!" An orderly shouted, making Kit yelp and pull his pants up and stand against the sink. "Go, time for medicine." He spoke roughly, his voice like gravel.
Kit ducked his head and left the room, hurrying to the rec room and finding Grace.
"Hey, you alright?" He asked.
Grace nodded, her hair falling across her face. "S'not too bad after a while. Let's just try not to get caught again?"
But that's exactly what Kit Walker wanted.