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I was born into a family of slaves. With no last name, no origin of where exactly I came from, I only knew my first name.
Almana.
My mother once told me it meant alone. Confused, I asked her why she would name me after such a word. And she had only cried, as I grew older, I realized why.
My mother was impregnated with me through force, by an old slave owner. Once I was born, he was far gone and out of the picture, having sold my mother off after he got what he wanted, leaving her a broken mess.
She essentially named me after what she felt.
My mother soon fell ill when I turned twelve, she fell more ill when I turned fourteen, not able to walk. Our slave owner, a cruel man, was furious with the thought of having only one working slave as my mother became bed ridden.
I begged him to show us mercy, I would do anything he pleased.
He agreed, I soon became a thief for him, picking pockets of the people who came in his tavern. I tried to please as best as I could to save my mother and I, but fate isn't kind.
He took more than I could give. Soon his gazes lingered to long, his touches trailed my arms and legs, his smirk filled with mischief, and my orbs filled with tears.
The day it happened, the day my innocence was ripped away and I was thrown back into my small hut I shared with my mother, was the day she passed.
I cried as her lifeless form laid before me. I never got to say goodbye, I never got to hold her warm hand one last time, no, instead I was being abused, taken advantage off.
Everything I did in my power to keep us safe, with food, and a roof over our heads was all gone. I was more alone and empty than ever.
And then it happened. My master sold me, he got what he wanted and that's how I found myself in the predicament I'm in now.
I sat in the empty room. It was cold and dark. My wrists were bound together along with my ankles. The outfit I wore was a dirty brown dress, worn out with tears, exposing my bruised and cut arms and legs.
My jaw still aches, I tried escaping and one of my new owners hit me square in the face for running. I was more afraid than ever, I thought life couldn't get worse and I was proven wrong.
Warm tears spilled down my cheeks as I tried to keep quiet, they would only hurt me more. My hair was a tangled mess, falling down my shoulders.
