The Slave Girl: Chapter 3

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The Slave Girl: Chapter 3

Post by Unit7 on Wed Oct 27, 2010 4:21 pm

She was lead into a small room by a young boy. The room was empty except for a worn mattress and a nightstand that stood a few feet from the ground. She looked back over her shoulder to see the obese man closing the door behind him. She thought back to the auction and shivered. Why? What had she done to deserve to be a slave? Her mind drifted back to the hooded female. Who was she and why couldn’t she have won? She couldn’t place it but if she had won the auction she would be safe. But now? Now she was some guy’s plaything. A living doll trapped within this house.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a light nock on the door. She turned wondering who it could be. An image of her parents flashed in her mind’s eye. She could see them clearly standing tall and proud in the finest silk garments. She rushed towards the door and opened it wide, a tear of joy coming down her cold cheek. Then she remembered, how could she forget what had happened? It was the only thing she truly remembered of that life. Reluctantly she pulled open the door and found a small boy carrying a tray of food. Only cheese and bread. She was a slave now and doubted she would be given much more than that. She accepted the food without thought or a thank you and the boy simply stalked away his shoulders limp.

She took the pathetic meal and sat on the mattress, her eyes roaming about her new home. Home. The word stuck in her mind, it hummed a familiar cord within the young girl. She couldn’t even remember her home now. She couldn’t even remember anything beyond the slaver’s old wagon as it made its way through the countryside. She could remember one time, and only one, before that wagon. The night she was captured. But mostly, she could just remember her parent’s bodies lying in a pool of blood. A large burly man with a nasty scar stood over them. The blood of her parents glistening devilishly in the candle light.

Placing the tray of food beside her, a small bite of the cheese and bread missing, she laid down on the mattress. She looked up at the ceiling and stared. How often would she stare up there? The man hadn’t been shy about what he was going to do to her. He talked about it fondly under his breath as he dragged her to this place. This hell. What else could she call it?

A breeze drifted across her face, the aroma of fresh food and the sounds of children playing being carried with it. She turned on her side and saw for the first time the window. It was small; an adult could never have fit through it. She could. The window was propped open. She jumped off the bed, spilling the food, and went for the window. She could see down about ten feet, she was on the second floor. Would she make it down safely? How far could she go with a sprained ankle? A memory came to her then, a boy no older then her had jumped off a small ledge and broken his ankle. She couldn’t place the boy, but he was familiar. A friend? Did she have friends? She shook the thought from her head. What did it matter now? The breeze came in again bringing her back from the turmoil of her mind. Before her hand or any other body part went past the window seal she saw something. All hopes, all fantasies of freedom, of joining the kids in play, were ended before they could even form. A small black fly was resting in the air. The fly moved its hands together and with her keen sight, she could see the fly cleaning itself. Swatting the fly away, she pressed a hand to where it had been. She found that she couldn’t move past it. Some barrier, some magical force was repelling her hand. Pushing with all her strength she tried to break through. But she might as well have been pushing against a brick wall.

She walked back towards the bed and curled into a tight ball crying. She was a prisoner. No escape.

Later that day she heard a cat at the window. Her eyes were red from crying but she could see the black cat clearly. It sat outside the window casually cleaning itself. Oh how she wanted to hold the cat, to have it as a companion! But she wasn’t going to trick herself into thinking she could get to the black cat. The barrier wouldn’t let her. She moved as close to the cat as possible and watched her. Her? She wasn’t sure why but she could tell it was a female. The cat opened its eyes and looked right at her. It blinked and stood up to stretch. Thinking the cat was leaving, the girl wanted to say something. Wanted to call it back. But it probably had a home, a family of its own maybe. She slumped to her knees and then the cat walked towards her.
The black cat paused as it reached the barrier. Its ears flattened and bared its sharp teeth at the girl hissing. Then it relaxed and as if every step was a struggle through deep snow, it passed through the barrier. Thoughts swirled through the young girls head, how could a mere cat get through when she couldn’t? Was it possible for things other than when and sound to come through but not leave? The cat relaxed and laid down in front of the confused girl.

She reached out to pet the cat; her hand shook a little but something, the same little voice that told her that the cat was a female told her it was alright. But before her hand had ever touched the sleek fur a loud knocking came from the door. She jerked her head back and then to the cat who was already on the window seal. The cat turned its head towards the girl and leaped forward straight through the barrier. On impulse she decided she would follow. She had to escape. The knocking was growing louder an angry voice demanding for her to open followed every knock. She placed her hand on the barrier and she tried to push through but found it impossible. She was trapped.

She turned to the door and walked wondering what punishment the man might give. Truly she was his to command. He owned her and she couldn’t escape. Slowly she turned the door knob, each second feeling like a lifetime.
Later that night as she lay awake on the bed she raised a hand to her cheek. It stung where the man had hit her. She knew it could have been worse. Perhaps the gods hadn’t abandoned her after all. But this was just the first day. She knew there would be more.


Sometimes, late at night, I sit here and I wonder. The things I wonder vary from night to night. Sometimes I wonder about the stars and other nights I wonder about what tomorrow will be like. But recently I have been wondering what my life would have been like without you...-Samantha Greene
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Re: The Slave Girl: Chapter 3

Post by Hannah_Banana222 on Sun Nov 07, 2010 6:05 am

This is amazing. So real. The detail and emotion are just perfect. Smile
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