Chapter 5: Homework supervision part1
The solid click of his door latch echoed in the quiet of his room, a sound of finality that felt like a judgment. Derek stood for a long moment, his forehead pressed against the cool wood, trying to process the intimate violence he had just witnessed. The image of Sabine’s reddened skin, the clinical way she’d discussed her punishment, the purposeful invasion of the door locks—it all coalesced into a heavy, uncomfortable understanding. This house operated on a different axis, one where childhood punishments persisted well into adulthood.
He took a deep breath, the air in his room tasting of fresh paint and neutrality, a stark contrast to the complicated, scented history of the hallway. He couldn’t hide up here. Downstairs was the reality of his situation: cheap rent, a charming landlady, and a dynamic he was now irrevocably aware of.
When he descended, the atmosphere in the living room had shifted. The earlier tension had dissipated, replaced by a studious quiet. Petra and Fiona were seated at the large oak table, textbooks and notebooks spread before them like a defensive perimeter. Fiona was chewing on the end of her pencil, her brow furrowed in concentration over a history text. Petra was sketching idly in the margin of her math workbook, her posture radiating a restless energy barely contained.
Sabine was curled in an armchair, a novel held in front of her face like a shield. She didn’t look up as he entered, but he saw the subtle stiffening of her shoulders, the careful way she held herself still. He knew the reason for that caution now.
Katja emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. Her smile was warm, effortless. “There you are. Everything okay? Settled in?”
“Yeah, just… getting my bearings,” Derek said, his voice sounding rougher than he intended. His eyes flickered to Sabine, then back to Katja. The normalcy of the scene was jarring.
“Good.” Katja tossed the towel over her shoulder and leaned against the doorframe. “Listen, I have to run out for a bit. An emergency shift at the café. I hate to dump this on you so soon, but could you keep an eye on the girls? Make sure they actually get their homework done and don’t just watch cat videos all night?”
Petra groaned dramatically, letting her head thump onto her open textbook. “We’re not children, Katja.”
“Aren’t you?” Katja’s tone was light, but there was a steel thread running through it. “Your physics grade suggests otherwise. And Fiona, that essay isn’t going to write itself.” Fiona flinched, her delicate features tightening with anxiety.
Katja’s gaze settled back on Derek. “I’m just asking you to be the adult in the room. The enforcer of focus.” She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod towards the girls. “They know the rules. The work gets finished, to a satisfactory standard, before any fun is had. They know what happens if it doesn’t.”
The words hung in the air, simple and domestic, yet layered with a dark, specific meaning for everyone present. Derek felt the weight of the assignment. She wasn’t just asking him to babysit. She was inviting him into the mechanism of control, offering him a role.
Sabine slowly lowered her book, her dark eyes meeting his for the first time. They were unreadable, a flat, obsidian surface. She was gauging his reaction, waiting to see how he would land.
“Sure,” Derek heard himself say. “I can do that.”
“Excellent.” Katja grabbed her purse from a hook by the door. “I shouldn’t be more than a few hours. Remember,” she said, her voice lifting to address the entire room, “it doesn’t matter if I’m here to see it or not. If the work isn’t done, I’ll know. And we’ll deal with it tomorrow. Understood?”
A chorus of muted “yes, Katjas” came from the table. Sabine gave a single, tight nod.
With a final, breezy smile, Katja was gone. The front door clicked shut, and the house seemed to let out a collective breath it had been holding.
Silence descended, thick and uncomfortable. Petra resumed her doodling with renewed vigor. Fiona stared at her blank document, her pencil frozen. Sabine watched Derek, her book now closed in her lap.
Derek walked to the sofa and sat down, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He looked at the two girls at the table. “So,” he said, his voice calm, breaking the stillness. “Where are you guys stuck?”
For a while, the only sounds were the scratch of Fiona’s pencil and the soft rustle of Petra turning a page. The grandfather clock in the hall ticked away the seconds with a dull, ponderous rhythm. Derek watched them from the sofa, the memory of Sabine’s reddened skin a vivid, silent film playing behind his eyes.
Fiona worked with a frantic, focused energy, her small frame hunched protectively over her books. Each completed problem seemed to bring a tiny, relieved sigh. The previous night’s punishment had clearly left a deep impression, fueling her diligence with a palpable undercurrent of fear.
Petra, however, was a study in restless inertia. She started well enough, solving a few equations with quick, confident strokes. But after about fifteen minutes, her pen stilled. Her gaze drifted from the quadratic formulas on her page to the world outside the window, where a stray cat was stalking something through the overgrown lawn. Her focus had evaporated, leaving behind a vacant boredom.
“You should be working, Petra,” Derek said, his voice low but clear in the quiet room. “Not staring at holes in the air.”
Petra’s head snapped around, a flash of irritation in her cool green eyes. She muttered something under her breath, the words low but distinct. “Yes… and a bit more quietly… idiot.”
He let the insult hang there, a small, poisonous cloud in the domesticated air. He said nothing, just watched her. She pointedly looked back at her notebook, scribbling a meaningless series of numbers in the margin. A few minutes later, her body had pivoted back towards the window, her chin propped in her hand, completely disengaged.
“Petra,” Derek said, his tone shifting into something firmer, the one he’d used with new recruits who thought they knew better. “Do I have to tell your mom that you weren’t diligent at all? And that you even called me an idiot?”
The effect was instantaneous. Petra whipped around, her face draining of color. “No! Please don’t, I’m really busy now. And it just slipped out and I’m sorry! Please, please don’t tell Mom!” Her bravado had shattered, replaced by genuine, wide-eyed panic.
“It’s too late for that now, Madame.”
The voice came from the doorway. All three of them flinched. Katja stood there, still in her jacket, her keys dangling from her finger. Her expression was calm, but her eyes were sharp, taking in the scene: Fiona’s frantic work, Petra’s guilty posture, Derek’s stern face. None of them had heard her come back in.
“You should do your homework,” Katja said, her gaze sweeping over them before landing, with finality, on Petra. “And not only that you… obviously weren’t very diligent.” She stepped fully into the room, the air seeming to cool with her presence. “No, you also insulted D. So we have two things to discuss.”
A small, nervous giggle escaped Fiona. “Yes Petra, Mom will ‘talk’ to you while she washes your mouth out after spanking you.” A smirk touched her lips. “Serves you right, you silly goat.”
“You were just complaining about the exact same thing yesterday!” Petra shot back, her fear momentarily eclipsed by indignation.
“Fiona.” Derek’s single word cut through their bickering. The blonde girl instantly looked down at her book, chastised.
Katja’s attention turned to Fiona, her head tilting. “How many times have we talked about how none of you girls need to make fun of each other?”
“Sorry…” Fiona’s voice was a meek whisper. “I was just trying to explain to D…”
“You know what, Fiona?” Katja’s voice was deceptively soft. “You can now show our guest the ‘put the girl in the corner’ ritual. That way, you don’t get any ideas while I spank Petra’s bottom.” She then looked directly at Derek, a silent question in her eyes. “And then you can also have the ‘conversation’ with D as a reward for your big mouth. I think D will be happy to help me so that we can do a ‘double wash’.”
Before Derek could formulate a response, both girls erupted in a frantic, overlapping chorus of pleas.
“No Mom, please no, no corner and no soap…”
“Mom please, I’ll do my homework extra thoroughly, but no spanking!”
“Girls,” Katja said, her voice dropping into a register that brooked no argument. “I didn’t ask for your opinions.” She then looked at Derek, her eyebrow raised in query. “Would you help me?”
He felt the weight of the moment, the crossroads presented to him. This was the machinery of the house, and he was being handed a lever. “Sure, Katja,” he said, his voice steady. “I promised you I’d look after the girls.” A faint, knowing smile touched his lips. “Besides, who would say no to such an offer?”
“Well, let’s move on to you two!” Katja said, clapping her hands together once. The sound was like a starting pistol. “You know what to do. And if I hear another word of protest…”
The fight drained from them instantly. Their shoulders slumped in unison.
“Yes, Mom.”
“Yes, Mom.”
They stood up, their movements resigned and robotic. Derek watched them, the two young women surrendering to a fate they clearly knew well. He exchanged a glance with Katja, a silent understanding passing between them. Apparently, homework supervision didn’t always have to be boring.