Why?
As I gazed at the cascade of blood running down my face now on a motionless corpse, my mind flashed back to the day the white men killed me for the first time. To when I was just a child taken away from everything I knew, everything I loved, and the family that never saw me grow up. The white men put me on a boat, full of feces and disease, forced us to eat, sleep, live in there and no white men even felt remorseful.  I never understood why they treated us with such brutality, such hated.
Eventually we got to the land, I was so confused looking everywhere for a familiar face to comfort me and protect me, but I never found it. They checked our teeth, weighted us, and put us in a stable. We waited as the white men rushed in, and started waving small green rectangular pieces of paper at more white men. They spoke really loud and in phrases and sounds I've never heard before. One white man grabbed my arm savagely, handed me to another white men in exchange for a couple of green rectangles. This man was the worst thing that ever happened to me.
I grew up picking cotton in the red hot beating sun, and if that wasn't enough when the boss got angry he'd whip us all. He'd start from youngest to oldest to do the elderly a "favor", twenty whips each. Some days we wouldn't even get water working on the fields, let alone any food. We never really made connections with each other because it's was better like that; less suffering.
All these horrible memories,and my body still laid there, bloody raucously lacerated. It had to stop; the brutality, the hate, the pain, the whips, everything. The overlooker of the field was a cruel man. That day he was harassing an old man that didn't work as fast as he wanted. All of a sudden we heard a whip, that was enough. .
I went to him, snatched the whip from his hand, and began to whip the overlooker. The feeling of freedom, bliss, and satisfaction that ran throughout my whole body felt incredible. His screams of mercy which were so familiar to my where now coming from his mouth, but I stopped. I am not like them, I believe their punishment will come, I am not the one one that will decide their sentence.
They decided my punishment, they hung me by my feet to a tree. My owner he let the dogs run loose on me, they went at my face they ripped and bit and scratched. They crawled up my body gripping and tearing my skin. All these horrible memories and my body still laid there.