'Retribution', Segment VII

Guangdong Penitentiary (two years past)

Marcia Clark learns of the resolve of a Chinese torturer. And yes, she uses the phrase shou ren zunjing kuxing zhe in addressing the woman who daily rips away a fingernail. The process is done slowly, her Kuxing zhe explaining torture is never to be rushed... not in China... and particularly not at Guangdong Penitentiary.

In trying to appease the woman, Marcia divulges the presumed anger of her husband David... her benefactor... able to recite his last communication to her, the note in the hotel room, verbatim. Revenge. But her explanation stops not the agony, every morning a nail surrendered, always before any food, vomiting to be avoided.

Immobilized in tight four point restraint, Marcia is able to thrash about her head... and move her vocal cords, bestowing the entire prison with begging words and her ‘song’ of suffering. 

With finger number six, Marcia realizes nothing... no words of entreaty... will save her nails... and avoid the pain. Instead she beseeches for more quickness.

“Please, shou ren zunjing kuxing zhe, faster. Just pull,” the appeal bringing a smile, and no change in pace.

Marcia cannot help noting the attentive after care. Each deformed finger is soaked in antiseptic solution and bandaged with the diligence of a hospital visit.

Within ten days comes time for the toe nails, there are no more words to be squealed, well worn vocal cords strained with unintelligible lung emptying cries of agony.

Marcia is fed daily, her kuxing zhe spoon feeding, mother to infant, mouth wiped for untoward neatness. There is bathing, a warm wet chamois smoothed over every inch of well exposed flesh, genitalia and anus attentively cleansed after urination and every bowel movement. Marcia initially protests, that given a free hand she can tend to herself.

“But you will not, qiufan, You are to lie on the linzhong chuang until deemed broken. You are to be tortured. To move is to bring relief.”    

That said there is one anomalous aspect of the daily care. The thumb restraints are released, her kuxing zhe cradles her head and lifts, sitting up the prisoner and then massaging and rubbing her back with the tenderness of a mother tending to an infant. The arms are worked as well. Thereafter the toe rings are released and the legs lifted and massaged with equal attention.

“No bedsores, qiufan. That would require release from the linzhong chuang,” her kuxing zhe explaining the momentary release.

Some half dozen fingernails torn away, there is to come more to the daily Guangdong prison protocol.   

“We need to tend to your hair, qiufan. The chemicals are strong. Your benefactor insists on the harshest of applications,” the words coming as the kuxing zhe crudely begins clipping away at the head and pubes. “It will be painful as well. Not as intense as ripping away your nails... but the coating of chemicals will remain in place for much time.”

The kuxing zhe smiles, hearing delusional laughter from her qiufan. She is beginning to break.          

Aside from the daily intervals of intense suffering, there also comes distress in that the large cell is open to viewing, three solid walls, the fourth of bars enabling guards and other passersby to pause and gaze at the well secured nakedness of the qiufan. Marcia notes the wicked smiles, the many bandaged digits, the intensity of the tightness, a body coated in foul smelling defoliating chemicals seeming to amuse.

“Must they watch? Must they see me?” Marcia finding words as her kuxing zhe chemically swabs her body once more.

“Yes, qiufan, you would prefer to be tortured privately. Grace only your kuxing zhe with your song. It’s what happens.”

Knowing that the chemicals will soon begin to burn, Marcia hastens the exchange.

“What happens? What is it that happens?”

“You find quiescence in my care... the things I do for you. You find dismay in sharing with others... those who enjoy your exhibition.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s like making love... what we do... what you give me... what I give you. You’re beginning to think it’s for us... not for the joy of others.”

“The bars, kuxing zhe... open to the hall. It cannot be helped."

“In time we will go to the xingxun shi... the torture chamber... after you’re broken. And there your masochism will reign. You will do things for me... you will want to do things for me... surrender yourself to me... your pride... your soul... your dignity. It’s an offering... your gift to me.”

“Why?”

“Because I am your kuxing zhe... your shou ren zunjing kuxing zhe. I do things for you that you want me to do.”

“You don’t.”

“I do. You’ll see,” smiling in seeing the strong chemicals begin to burn, conversation over.