Caged Bird Screaming

The mistress

The days passed at an agonizing pace and Henry would drift from reality to his own world. Small beads of sweat would form on his forehead, as his eyes would roll back into his head as he’d mutter words no one understood. His wounds were now as black as coal, and Axe was not the only one getting worried about the boy. His father would watch Henry every day with a grim look on his face.

Laura had returned home two days before and the halls were now silent. The slaves secretly breathed in relief when she left. She had been nothing but trouble, stealing food from the kitchens and taunting the children. Some were secretly glad the master’s son was ill because it took both the master and mistress’ eyes away from them leaving them room to breathe, while the field slaves were not so lucky. They still had the overseers watching their every move.

Harriet too felt the strain of Henry’s worsening condition when she received regular beatings from George. She’d sometimes crumble to the floor when he was done with her and weep silently in the dark. It was her fault. If only she hadn’t hidden her necklace under Yulana’s pillow...if she had been a better mother....if she hadn’t married for money, none of this would have happened. She could barely feel her face, numb with pain. She had to use powder to try and cover the bruises on her face. Some of the slaves looked at her with pity, others smirked scornfully at her. It was her turn to know how it felt to have bruises on her face. It was her turn to know how it felt to be beaten by George. One thing was for sure, as long as George beat her, they’d be spared the wrath of his anger.

Harriet couldn’t stand looking at her face in the mirror. Her beauty was gone and was now replaced by a weak and broken woman with a blackened face. The slaves tried adorning her with pearls. It didn’t help. It just made her even more miserable. She had lost her unborn child, her son was almost dead and her husband was making her life hell.

There were times when she’d stand in the attic and think of throwing herself from the window. Death would come quick and easily. She’d finally feel at peace. No one would hit her. No one would judge her as a bad mother.

She lay on the soft bed and closed her eyes as she felt the pleasure it gave her aching body. She was through with everything. She wanted to leave. She had to leave or she’d be reduced to nothing but a walking corpse. She knew George kept some of his money in a small briefcase on the top shelf. There were times when she’d stand in front of the shelf and think of taking the briefcase. She could imagine holding the case in her hands. She could almost taste her freedom, but fear always stopped her. What would she do if George happened to walk into the room when she took the brief case from the shelf? He’d kill her. Where would she go? Her parents were long since gone.

She tried not to think of the consequences of stealing George’s money. She needed to get away. That was her primary goal. Living accommodations and lifestyle would come later. But for now she needed to leave. She got up and stood before the shelf. She touched the timber surface and turned away when she heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. George was coming. She threw herself onto the bed and pretended to be asleep. As the door opened, she closed her eyelids tightly and bit her lip to try and stop herself from trembling in fear.

Something cold touched her cheek and Harriet’s blood froze when George kissed her forehead.

“Are you alright?” He asked. Harriet knew the drill. He’d come back and tell her about how much he loved her and then just as quickly turn into the monster he had turned out to be.