The sun was beating down on her scarred back as she struggled to remember her name or anything about herself. She tried everything to get her mind off the pain. But there was nothing. That’s all she could do.. conquer the pain, embrace the pain, get used to the pain.
She had been shackled to two poles for over twenty-four hours now. People still came by every now and then to throw some more rocks at her or to just taunt her naked body. Because that is all she was to them. A naked slave who tried to defey her master. She had gained Four new scars on her back yesterday. Whipped in front of the whole town for just plain amusement. All because she wouldn’t let that filthy wretched human being whom she reffered to as master put his hand on her. Not in a rough way but in a way for pleasure.
She was no doubt the most beautiful slave the towns folk every came across. She had long wavy dark black hair that cut off at the middle of her back with a brown face and light brown eyes. Her eyebrows were slightly arched and her body was a fortress whom the men and some women often admired. But no one dared to touch her because they all knew master Wittmore had claimed her. She cost more than any of the other slaves on the plantation or for that matter anywhere within an 100 mile radius. But the scars on her back and her hands always reminded the people who she truly was. A slave. Something to be owned. Not loved. Not respected. Not anything but property.
She always knew she would die someday. But she never thought it would be so soon, she never thought she’d welcome death, beg for it. Out of all of her miserable years as a slave she never once wanted to die. She thought the world would eventually even out and that there would be a day where she could be free and enjoy the music and the fresh air. But that hope was gone. It vanished. She cursed herself for ever believing in a better world. A better way of life.
Amora. That beautiful word slipped through the agony she now faced. That was her name. She was never allowed to say it aloud. She was supposed to forget it. Sometimes she wanted to forget it because it was always her salvation. That word that once slipped from her mother and fathers mouth and for that very reason she never gave up. And now she hated