I have no name. Never have. My soul was always bound to another, forced to serve, labor, and wait-on till the day I die.
My last master was kind, gentle, and a great tailor. He lived in the town for his entire life, me being his only company till a customer came along.
Unfortunately, the economy fell, and I was forced to be sold. So here I am, in this wagon filled with other slaves, waiting to be sold to a new master. The shackles were tight, and my neighbors reeked of fish and slime. They must've worked near the docks, close to where I worked. I rubbed my ankles, hoping to relieve some pain of the hard metal.
I looked around at all the faces who would be my company for the next few days. Most of them held faces of fear, including mine. Others (mostly boys) held the faces of those who tried to fake a proud face to look strong. No one wanted to be stuck in this wagon. They never fed you, nor let you out to relieve yourself, so if no one wished to buy you, you were pretty much stuck in hell.
Only one face held a look of true pride and relief. It was that of a boy, with shaggy, dark hair, which looked as though it had not been washed in over three years. He must've notinced me staring at him, wondering at the attitude of this boy, because he shot me a dark, evil glare. Immediately I switched my view point to the red-haired girl leaning against my shoulder, deep in sleep.
While on the wagon, we weren't allowed to speak to one another, else it would result in a nasty scorpion lash. The number of words you speak being the number of scars left on you back.
For the next three days, we all kept silent, occasionally sending glances to one another, but most of the time, I just slept, clutching my finely tailored dress that my last master gave to me.
Most of my dreams were of him. How he gently held my hands when I pricked my fingers with a needle, or the time when he gave me an extra bowl of soup. I always found myself crying when I woke, but alas, no one can change what happened. He gave me up. I am no longer a burden to him.
At the end of the three days our wagon finally stopped. We all jerked awake and put on faces of confidence. This was our time to present our best.
We heard a two voices, both men talking, but in a whisper where none of us could hear even if we pressed our ears up past the bars. Finally after a short conversation, our wagon leader bounded into our cage and began to unlock the chain tied to the bars…but only the girls'. Realizing this, we all held our breath to expect the worse, and when we toppled into the sunlight, our fears came true.
Should any of us be chosen, we would suffer a fate worse than death. Worse than the fire and brimstone of hell. These men who stood before our line were looking for slaves to sexually harrass. For fun. You could tell who they were by the strange flower-like symbol on their chests.
Frantically, I looked around, looking at my chances. Most of our ages ranged from 8-15. Anyone older would've been sent on a different wagon, and anyone younger wouln't have been able to be sold away from their mother or father. I looked at the trmbling red-haired girl next to me. She didn't look much older than 10, and the oldest might've been another girl down at the end of the line who looked just about 13.
Hy heart thumped. It had been a while since I'd seen my reflection, and I had just turned 15.
The man who talked with our wagon leader began at the end of the line, examining each girl as he walked by. After a while he decended upon me. He shoved his face so close to me, I could smell every piece of food he ate for lunch. Despite it's revoling smell, it actually made me hungry. He eyed me strangely longer than any of the other girls, making my heart race with each minute.
"How old are you?" he snapped, breaking the silence.
I flinched. "Th-thirteen…sir." I lied.
He sneered at me, then went on to the next girl, my body filling with relief and I let out a tiny sigh. He continued on, examining each girl carefully, then finally stepped back. He then pulled out a large bag with what seemed to be filled with money.
"How much for the one in the middle there?"
My heart dropped. His finger…pointed at me.
"200 pieces." The wagon leader said confidently.
"150."
"180."
"160."
"170 and not a penny less!"
Oh please, dear God. Don't let him have enough! I prayed.
"Done!"
There it was. The deal sealed my fate. I was to be sold to these men, my life bound to them till I am once again paid for by money or by death.
The wagon leader removed the shackles from my feet, but I still had no feeling in them. I slowly dragged my feet towards the men, terrorized by the sheer look of them.
"Well come on!" barked one of the other men, and I tripped myself, falling to the dirty ground. The silent air was filled with laughter, and I looked around frantically trying to find some type of comfort. As my eyes searched, they caught the look another pair of eyes. A boy. The same boy who glared at her three days earlier. But this time, his eyes were soft, and full of compassion.
Confused, I shook myself awake, and pushed myself off the ground, stumbling towards the men.
The wagon leader began to load up the rest of the girls, when one of the men leaned over to the first who examined me and whipered something to him. He nodded, then shouted out to the wagon leader.
"Hey! We'll need a boy as well!"
The wagon leader turned and paused. "What for?"
"Do you want the answer or do you want the money?"
The wagon leader just rolled his eyes, and finished loading up the girls. Then he brought out a string of boys, the shaggy haired one at the very end.
Another man, the one who reminded the first, went out and began examine the boys much like the first examined the girls, except he went through them much faster than the first.
"This one!" he said after a glance at the shaggy haired boy. He was the only one without a face of fear and neglect.
As the group and the wagon leader haggled over prices once again, I noticed the boy looking straight at me. But this time I couldn't tell what sort of emotion he held. It was full of compassion, yet sorrow. But it also had a bit of happiness, and sadness. Such an expression I couldn't describe.
After the price was finally settled, they removed his irons as well, and shoved him off by me. In an instant, suprising both the group and me, he grabbed my hand and darted for the trees. I tripped, and nearly fell over again, but he grabbed me by my waist and puled me up.
"Run!" he yelled, "Run like you've never run before!"
And with those words of encouragement, my legs took flight and we were soaring through the woods. We could hear the voices of our masters, coming after us, but it was too late to stop now. I could hear our feet thudding against the soft ground, and my breath get heavier and heavier. I never ran so much in my life, and it was starting to get to me. Slowly my legs began to slow down, and our captors were coming down on us. The boy tried to pull me along, but soon I just couldn't take any more. My legs collasped underneath me, and the band of slave owners were soon upon us.
One of them grabbbed my arm and pulled me to the ground. I screamed and kicked, but due to fatigue, I no longer had the strength to do any damage. Two others grabbed at my dress, ripping it in two. My heart shattered more than the dress. All the memories of my previous master, now being ripped to shreds.
Next thing I knew one of the men let go of me and fell backward. I looked over and saw the boy fighting with another band member, and soon they all let go of me to help fight. I stumbled back, unsure of what to do next. I couldn't fight, for I was too weak. But I couldn't just run and leave this boy either.
To my great astonishment, the boy seemed much stronger than I realized. He continued to fight, sending punches and kicks everywhere, trying to keep the men on the ground. Soon one of the men grabbed hold of his head and tried to send it into a rock, but the boy twisted around his arm, and let the man take the fall, resulting in a large, bleeding hole in his head.
Enraged, the other two leaped at him, and he only just barely dodged by jumping to the side. He then took this opportunity of them still picking themselves up to scoop me up and continue running.
With the weight of me and weariness of fighting, the boy was starting to slow down, the other two band members close on our tail. I looked back and saw they were not very far behind, and would soon decend upon up again.
"Put me down!" I shouted in the boy's ear. "Put me down! You can still run while they take me back!"
The boy glared at me, and I flinched. It was the same sort of glare he gave to me before. Immediately I fell silent, letting his feet to continue running.
Slowly, the slave-masters got closer and closer. Getting so close that if they wanted to, they could reach out and grab my flying hair. But soon my heart flew all they way to my throat, choking my screams. We bagan falling and tumbling down a steep cliff, maybe 40 feet deep. I rolled away from the boy, and ended up catching a tree at the bottom to stop my momentum. Immediately I got up and started to run again, some strength having come back to me after being carried.
I ran and ran, without ever thinking of the boy, till I looked back and saw no one there. My face ran red from guilt as I thought of what might've happened to him, but I let out a scream as an arm caught me from behind a tree.
A large-ish hand covered my mouth, and the stranger revealed it's face to me. It was the boy. Immediately I was relieved, and seeing I would make no noise, he let go of my mouth.
"They won't follow us out here. The cliff is too steep and they have an injured comrade."
I just nodded. His voice was calm, yet it had a rough tone.
"Here." He said, and he pulled off his dirty, brown shirt, handing it to me.
My whole face turned red. I had forgotten in all the excitement that my dress was now ribbons. I quickly nodded, and took the shirt gently.
If I had seen his body before, I wouldn't have been so surprised to see him fight so well. He had well-built muscles, the only thing adverting were the many scars covering his chest and back. I shook my head. Now is not the time to be thinking such things.
I put on the shirt carefully. It was itchy and was made of poor material, as if it were a potato sack.
"We better get going." He said after I finished putting it on. Once again, I nodded as a response, and we began to walk away from the direction we came.
The only thing enjoyable that day would've been the scenery. If I weren't scared for my life the whole time, I would've had time to take in a breath and enjoy the trees. I had never experienced trees before. I had always lived in the city, with all the hustling and bustling. The only plants being the ones sold in the market.
We soon came upon a small creek, filled with fresh water. Around were many trees filled with all sorts of fruits. Immediately I grabbed an apple off a tree and handed it to the boy. I smiled as I handed it to him, trying to show kindness and gratitute for our escape.
As he began to take it, I said, "So what's your name?" He looked startled, and his hand hesitated for a moment.
"What?" I inquired, my eyebrows furrowing. I didn't think I was insulting or degrading. Perhaps he didn't want to give me hs name.
"Uh, nothing." He said, and he took the apple. "It's just that, I never heard you speak, unless you were screaming." And he gave a slight chuckle. I frowned. For some reason, I didn't like how that sounded.
"My name's Peter. And yours?" he held out his hand.
I just stared at it, then looked at the ground. "I-I never had one. My mother died in childbirth, and I was always known as 'you' or 'girl'."
He put his hand down, a puzzled look planted on his face. "Well," he said after a while, "would you like one?"
I looked up at him with hopeful eyes, though I gave no response.
"Hm…how about Rose?" he suggested.
I shook my head. "I'm not sharp enough."
"Lilly?"
"No."
"Tulip."
"Now you're just guessing flower names!"
We both laughed, our stomachs filling with a strange uncomfortable feeling that I hadn't felt in a long time.
"Wait I got it!" he said. "Azalea!"
I stood there and thought for a moment, then smiled and nodded.
"Very well then, Azalea," he said as he picked another apple from the tree, and handed it to me, "Here's to our first day as free slaves!"
Free. Such a word I thought I could never utter. We both bit our apples as if we were saluting one another, and then set off to find more food.
We soon ate our fill off the trees and bushes, but as I started to gather some firewood, Peter, grabbed my hand.
"No. If they start looking for us, they'll see the smoke. We may have to sleep in the trees tonight."
I nodded, and dropped my sticks, though I was a bit disappontied. I wanted to show strength in front of this stranger, instead of always being the one in need.
I looked around at all the trees. Most of the fruited ones were quite short, and would be easy to climb, but that would also mean it'd be easier to see us.
"Hey, um…" I started. Peter was busy collecting more fruits and sorting them. He looked up with his hazel eyes.
"Your apron." He said.
I gave him a quizzical look. Not exactly the type of response someone recieves when trying to get their attention.
Recognizing my confusion, he pointed to my sewing apron dangling from under the shirt. "Could I use your apron to carry these?"
"Oh! O-of course!" and I untied it and handed it to him. He then layed it on the ground, and filled it with his assorted foods. Afterwhich he tied the top to the bottom, and finally brought up the sides and tied the ties together to construct a small satchel.
He smiled up at me, proud of his new creation, and I couldn't help but smile back. At this point he seemed like a child, showing his mother a new painting he just made out of mud and leaves.
"Sorry," he said standing up, "was there something you wanted to tell me?"
"Oh! Yes." I had forgotten to tell him about the trees as I was amused by his contstruction project. "It's that you said we should sleep in the trees."
"Yeah, more or less."
"Well, it's just that these trees are quite small…and well…"
"Well?"
"Well it's just that there'd be a higher chance of someone spotting us if they came looking for us. We were after all, already bought and paid for, and they didn't seem the type to just throw away money like that."
"That's why I packed this." And he picked up the bag and pulled it over his shoulder. "We're going to have to travel a while till we find a suitable place to sleep."
I gave my usual nod response and we took another drink of water before we set off again. Hours went by, and the woods just got thicker and thicker, till we had no idea where we came from or where we were going. Soon, Peter stopped, and looked up at a great maple tree.
"Here. This one's good."
I looked up at it. It was stories tall, so tall that I couldn't even see the top. I frowned as I saw the shortest branch. It stuck out quite far, but it was so high up, I could only barely reach it if I jumped my highest. I looked at Peter and shook my head.
"It's too high."
"Nonsense." He said, and he put the sack full of food down and took a few steps backward from the tree. Unsure of what he was about to do next, I took a few steps back as well. Then he sprinted off toward the tree, and in one fluid motion, kicked off the tree to keep his momentum and grabbed the hanging branch. He then hoisted himself up, and looked down at me with pride.
"Great!" I said, "Now how on earth do I get up there?"
In response, he hooked his legs over the edge of the branch and flung himself backward so that he was now dangling over the branch. I handed him our bag of goodies (which he tied securely on a higher branch), then grabbed his hands, which helped me plant my feet on the trunk of the tree. I climbed up, my arms feeling as though they would fall off. I somehow made it to the branch, resulting in Peter and I both out of breath and tired.
After a moment's rest, Peter finally untied the satchel, put it on, and began climbing.
"Come on," he said, "we have to get higher where the branches are closer together to keep us from falling in our sleep."
I rubbed my arms, showing that they hurt, but I started following him anyway after he was already a few branches up. We kept climbing higher and higher till he finally sat down on two strong branches. He then helped me up, and I sat on two others next to him.
Night soon fell upon us, and we ate some berries from the bushes as our dinner, but soon we were covered in darkness.
"Hey, Peter?" I started, breaking the silence of the night.
"Yeah?"
"Can I ask you a question?"
"What?"
I hesitated. "What did you do before you were sold?"
He turned to look at me through the dim light.
"Why do you want to know?"
I froze. "W-well…It's just that…while we were in the wagon, you had a strange sort of look on your face…sort of proud." It seemed like hours before he responded.
"It's because I hated where I was before. I hated the sight, I hated the smell, I hated the taste, I just hated everything about it…even worse than being stuck in that smelly wagon." He waited for a few minutes, collecting his thoughts and memories.
"Just like the men who bought you earlier, I belonged to some people who would torture me just for the kick of it. Man, woman, it never mattered, because everyone in that house enjoyed my pain…but what they didn't know, is that whatever they did to me, only made me stronger…"
I looked at his chest. Even in the dim moon-lit night, all his scars were plainly visible.
"Soon I got too strong for them, and that's when they sold me. But I took it as an accomplishment, a reward for all I had to go through."
I couldn't help but feel sorry for this poor creature. While he was getting beat practically everyday, I had the good life as a slave to a humble tailor.
"So…so why'd you glare at me?" I asked, after a moment's silence.
"Huh?"
"Well, while we were in the wagon, I caught your eye, and you sort of…glared at me…"
"Oh, that." He covered his face with his hands. "I-I suppose it was because I was a bit…jealous?"
"Jealous? How?"
He put his hands down, but he looked away from me, and started to rub his arms. "I guess I was jealous over the fact that you were so beautiful, and anyone would easily buy you without hesitation…"
I blushed and looked down at my lap. He thought I was bautiful?
"But when I saw what kind of men were buying, I couldn't help but feel guilt for thinking such things. So when they said they needed a boy as well, that's when I seized my opportunity to run."
"Th-then…why'd you take me with you?" He didn't respond. "I would've just been a burden, anyone could've seen that."
I looked over to see his head still turned away. A cold wind brushed up our tree, and he curled his legs a bit toward his chest. I myself was cold, but I didn't want to seem selfish, so I took off the warm shirt he gave me, and handed it to him. This seemed to get his attention because he finally looked at me. Then he shook his head.
"No, I gave it to you to cover your dress."
"Well, at least I still have a bit of my dress to cover me. You'll get sick exposing your chest like that!"
After minutes of arguing, he finally gave in, taking the shirt and putting it back on. He grumbled and murmured, but I felt satisfied.
"So," he said after he finished, "what did YOU do before you were sold?"
My smile faded. "W-why do you w-want to know?" I didn't feel like telling him of how great my lifestyle was when he had to deal with so much.
"Well, I told you my story, now you have to tell me yours."
"Uh…uhm…" I had no idea where to begin. Everything started to muddle together.
"Just start from the beginning." Peter said, as if reading my thoughts.
"The beginning…" I repeated, closing my eyes. "well, beginnings always start with some sort of birth, and mine didn't end so well." I opened my eyes, and looked off to the moon hidden by the trees.
"My mother died giving birth to me. But she was a slave, so I had to start working as soon as I turned 8. Though I didn't mind, since it was mostly just sewing, and once I learned how to do that so well, I was eventually sold to a tailor for a good price when I was 10. He made this dress for me, but I made the apron myself."
Peter looked at his project sitting on his lap. "You made this?"
I nodded, "My only skill really. Though, I always wanted to learn how to read."
"Really? Reading?"
"Yes, why?"
"Well, I guess it'd make sense for you…I just never found any point to it…"
I was filled with both compassion and curiosity. Never before had I met someone, much less a slave, who didn't value the education of words.
"Well," I continued, "eventually the economy fell, and my master was run out of his home, so he sold me to get some money."
"Sounds like a GREAT guy." Peter said sarcastically.
"Oh no. He was a wonderful master, truly. He just no longer had any use for me." I tried to make it sound as good as possible, but for some reason, I didn't convince Peter.
I looked toward the night sky, looking to find something to bring my mind off my old life.
"They're beautiful…The stars." I said calmly, and Peter just nodded, looking at the sky as well.
"I suppose we better get to sleep then." He said, and he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
"Okay." I said, but when I began to close my eyes, my body automatically shifted to the side and I began to fall off the sturdy branches. Peter heard me slide, and he grabbed my shoulder just when I opened my eyes.
My heart beat wildly from the sudden stop, and I looked to Peter for a solution to our problem. He sat there for a moment, contemplating what to do. Then he moved the apron from off his lap, and tied it to a branch just above his head.
"Here." He said, and he patted on his lap. My face turned a bright red, though I hoped he wouldn't notice in the dark of the night.
I crawled over to his lap, positioning myself so I was sitting sideways.
"There." He said, "Now you won't fall, and we can keep warm."
I just nodded, unsure of what to say, then I let my eyes slip away into my eyelids.
"Good night, Azalea."