Nate: I know I do not own any of the Characters from The Patroit, but I can wish. Please dont sue, ect...
A Rush Of Blood To The Head
Victoria sat with her little daughter upon her lap. The cool night air felt well upon her bruised face, her husband had gone out to the tavern in the early afternoon. He came home for dinner and was in a drunken rage to find that his sup was not made the way he wanted it. A veteran of the French and Indian War, he had resolved to drink as had many men. Victoria's mother was part Cherokee Indian, and was lucky to have married so well and richly. But that didn't take the pain from the disaster of a marriage. Her husband had now left to return to the tavern. The slaves watched carefully of what they say, they watched the master day after day abuse his wife, but not once did he put his hands upon his daughter. She was the one thing that made him come to his feet and stop, her bright blue eyes and dark hair.
Victoria rocked back and forth humming an old Cherokee song as she decided to leave. She just watched the lighting bugs she had chased as a child in the camps. She let her self think about what would happen should she leave, how would her daughter be raised to me a woman of the world? There was no way she would ever come up with the money to send her to school if she went back with her family in the woods. So Victoria stayed for her daughter, not knowing what horrors lay ahead for them.