Chapter 1


by: Zutara323
I didn't let myself cry as she leaned forward and slapped me again. "Do I get that clear, Kelman?" she asked in my face, her breath was so sour and bitter. I felt sad that she wouldn't even call me by my name. I was a disgrace for I was a descendant of Kelman.

She kept yelling, "you don't know what I've done for you! I'm better than another master you'd ever get!" She turned away, and left me to bleed. My mouth was drenched in blood along with my elbow and my hip.

I could taste the blood, it was like metal. I spit it out onto the floor. I slowly stood up, all of my sore muscles squeezed and made me fall back again. My brown hair tangled down on the floor, along with the rest of my body.

I sat there, trying to stand, but failing each time. I felt as if the beatings were getting worse and worse. Every Kelman had a small mark on the back of their neck, like a scar, but no, it was a birthmark, or something. I, of course, was marked like this, and it forced me to be a slave.

My father used to tell me, "Nayeka, they will force you to do so many things, and it will only get worse, but do not let them change who you are inside." I relied on this quote all the time. I knew I still had that inner monster in me.

I looked up to see my master standing over me. "Spit on the floor? LOOK AT IT! Ruined!" she yelled at me. I gave her a small 'please stop' look, but she just gave me a shockingly rude glare. I fell back into a pit of dismay. "You worthless brat," she mumbled. "May as well put you up for auction... Not like anyone would buy you."

"Yes, ma'am," I nodded grimacing. I heard the people on auction were awful people from Pa. Of course, when I was 8, the age that Kelman kids could start in the slave trade, I was sent away, and I haven't seen them since. Oh I missed them.

I was afraid, but she just yawned and told me to clean up the floor. I slowly turned over, and looked at the spit on the floor. It was sticky and red. I gave a small sigh, and stood, though all of my body was telling me not to. I walked over to the pail and brought it to the floor as I scrubbed off the spit. It took me nearly 42 minutes to clean it.

Blood poured everywhere as I fell on the ground outside, where I slept was on the grass beside the house. I laid down, and tried to sooth my pain with a bit if wet dirt, or mud. It didn't help too much, but it was certainly better than nothing. I was only thirteen, and being beaten by my master nearly everyday.

Pa used to visit me and Ma, and he would have bruises and scars everywhere. I felt so bad for him, and all I wanted now was to go home to them.

My thoughts traced back to being sold at an auction. I had been avoiding that for years, and I certainly didn't want to face it. "Nay," I heard my mother's voice ring in my ear. She worked as well, after I turned eight. She would play games with me, and sign songs for me.

I looked out of the field and felt this small speck of sadness. I could see the the woods, the woods... Freedom. At that point, I didn't realize what freedom felt like, so I wasn't sure what it was. I stood, tumbling back. I looked into the dark house, and began to run.

My legs were so shaky, that it thought I might lose my balance, but I didn't. I kept running. My heart beat grew rapid, as did my pace. I didn't think about stopping until I was far into the forest. The dirt beneath my feet felt so fresh, and I couldn't help but stop.

I looked back solemnly, but I didn't feel bad for that woman. I wanted her to perish in the devil's hands. I looked farther in, and thought I saw some water. The summer night was so hot, I couldn't help but run to it. I kept running, but the water didn't get any closer. What was I doing wrong. I ran and ran and ran, till I felt myself fall back into blackness.

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