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Yet again you dragged me out of bed this morning, to be honest I never really slept well. I have performed my tasks to avoid scrutiny. But that’s not the worst of it when you’ve beaten me.
I kept my tone in check. And just because I am a girl, that doesn’t mean anything. If you were going to hit me, all I had begged of you is that you would hit me like a man, just as you did to my father.
Table scraps is all my family got for dinner. We were thankful for a few peas and lucky if we receive a bite of meat. You can forget about breakfast and lunch. It is too costly to feed a slave.
I pondered about what it would be like to suck on a sugar cube. Maybe my great grandmother could’ve told me, she wasn’t always imprisoned by our Master. There was a time where us too, were free like you.
You pulled me out of my dwelling and carried me over your shoulder. You pressed down on my sternum and forced me to the ground as you straddled onto my lap. No matter my screams, or my father’s horrified look. No matter how much my lips had quivered or how many tears streamed down my face... You still took my innocence and that’s what killed me.
I still wiped your floors and boiled sugarcane for you, because of its demand. You didn’t care if we were burned as our flesh hung, infected. You just want your profit, profit of which we don’t get a dime of.
You swim in your money, and drown in your ego. Your voice was sickening as you had spit out your orders. Today was the day my great grandmother had died. You had only yanked her by her feet and threw her in a bag made of only plastic. No funeral. No nothing. Just your normal selfish acts. You barked for us to keep up the work. “Death is a part of life.” You nonchalantly called behind your shoulder.
Well today is the day I put my foot down. I am bearing your child, but your eyes only roll. This is your son! And you don’t care because he is a mulatto. So here I cry, silent and only twelve. For I just became a lady, and you cannot take this part of me away.
I wipe my tears and smile. Because as my father holds my hand I know that I will be just fine. Family is here, and that will never change. For today is the day, you had passed on in your sleep. Today we sing hallelujah, as we praise the lord. We are free! We cry out, free at last.
And isn’t it just too bad that not one soul had grieved on the day you had died? And so I had justified by holding you to your quote…
“Death is a part of life.” And after all, I guess you were right.