My head thumped against the wall for the umpteenth time, causing disastrous headaches to travel across my brain. I knew I would regret this later but for now, I wanted it to end, all of it. My tears were refusing to hold back. I didn't want to cry but it seemed the only way to let it out.
Blood mixed with sweat and tears somehow seeped through the crack on my forehead but I wouldnt stop shouting with the little energy left in me. Master kept landing punches on every part of my body, slowly reducing me to nothing.
I couldn't struggle anymore, I was weak, drenched in my own blood and sweat. Wanting it all to end.
This wasn't the first time I was beaten up like this, neither would it be the last.
The men behind him looked at me pitifully, like they warned me.
They did warn me, everyone did. Who dared question master? Let alone approach him like I just did. It was verboten to do so.
If I apologised maybe, just maybe, he would let me be. I tried to talk but it seemed like my lips were glued from speaking. The only sound coming out were my deafening screams.
He used the rod iron on his left hand to hit me hard on the head. All I could remember after that was pain.
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Non-FictionI always thought slavery was something that you only read about in books, shaking your head and imagining what the victims went through. Not until I became one. #2 thephoenixawards2020 #4 proudnigerian #8 intriguing #11 thewattys2020
