Each blow landed with brutal force. It felt like my spine would snap in two. I writhed on the ground as I tried to dodge the blow, but every move only worsened my injuries.
“I’m telling the truth! I don’t know who’s framing me, but I am Quilla!” I cried out.
The man wielding the rod smiled coldly and brought the rod down on me again while shouting, “Are you still not done with your nonsense? I’ll beat the truth into you! Do you think anybody can claim to be Miss Shepard? I dare you to say it one more time, I'll beat you up."
My head throbbed and I could feel warm blood trailing from my ears. I curled my body and shielded my head because I did not want to be beaten anymore. I whispered, “I won’t say it anymore. I won’t say anything,”
One of the sailors threw a garment at me and ordered, "Put this on!"
The outfit wasn’t a normal uniform. My hands froze as I realized what it was.
When he saw I hesitated and was about to refuse, the man who had beaten me waved the stick in his hand threateningly.
To preserve my life, I turned around, gritted my teeth and changed.
When they saw my obedience, several of them nodded approvingly.