After seeing my mother screaming and crying to pain, when I just was ten years old…I felt like my simple life had shattered…Shattered to point that I had no idea on where to start to pick myself back up again…

“Your mother just had to let the secret out! I told her not too…So, this is what she deserves!”

“What…What secret?” What kind of secret would make my mother have to go through so much pain? Can…Can they stop now? You’re hurting her!

I had been crying my eyes out, forced to watch what was happening to my own mother…My eyes were red, my snot was falling from my face and the rope around my wrists had made me start to bleed…But, all I could think of, is why can’t they stop, I needed her! I want my mother! Please don’t hurt her anymore!

“Stupid child!”

I was then splashed with boiling hot water, just like my mother had been. I cringed and jerked to the pain, but then I heard a chuckle.

“Yes, little one, this will be a day that you’ll never forget! You must never speak of what you shouldn’t!”

I knew of this woman, the wife of the Lord and whom I’m supposed to call Lady Billings, yet, I had never seen her be this cruel before! It was a whole new side to her that sprung up out of nowhere!

...It was only a day before...That my mother was fine, my mother wasn't hurting at all like she is now!

I was so scared that I nodded, knowing what I must learn from this and hoped that they would let her go…Please! I’ll do anything! Please let my mother go!

I will never speak of what I shouldn’t…I will never speak! Please, please, let her go!

Instead of letting my mother go, they came towards me…

Then…I screamed as I was held down and the boiling water went over one side of my face.

The pain was the biggest I had ever felt! The beatings I had received prior to this were nothing, as the hot water felt like it was burning my flesh right off my face!

I wanted to move away, I wanted to push at the person holding me...I wanted to understand!

Sadly though, all I could do, was scream until something was shoved into my mouth and then feel all the hot water upon my skin, burning it away…I was...Completely hopeless. Completely useless...

I had lost consciousness, but this pain lingered for quite some time…The pain of not only what the burning hot water had done to me, but the lifeless body of my mother that was still out of my reach, was too much for me…So much, that I wished I had been killed instead. Or that I could follow my mother, the only person that meant anything to me.

It was like I woke up in one regard but tried to sleep in another.

I woke up to cruelty of the world, never able to forget this painful night and…I tried to put my own wants to sleep…Not that I had many to begin with, but now, I was just trying to survive. Survive this hellish world that I was now trapped in, because Lady Billings had taken all of my mother’s possessions…

On that night, I obtained a scar on my face.

On that night, I saw that speaking seemed to pose a problem.

On that night, more than anything, I obtained an unforgettable memory of my mother being horrendously tortured in front of me…Whipped, hot water poured onto her, poked with needles and impaled with a sharp wooden spike.

Her *****, burnt body was nailed to big, wooden boards and her blood was running from everywhere, leaving this

image in my mind, which was something I was unable to ever forget about…And, even though the place was scary and dark, it had been nothing to what I had seen. The sight of my mother's blood and how she laid there afterwards was scarier than the abandoned place we had been in. The smell, the cries...The blood. I still remember it all so vividly...

But, from this start, where I was hopeless and weak…This image, and the life ahead of me, was long but a start of a

much stronger me, someone no longer with nothing and with no one.

From such a hopeless beginning, I would have never thought that I was able to gain anything, in fact…I think I was

waiting to die from that night onwards…But…Things changed!

…Waking with a gasp, I sat up and wiped away my tears.

Every few nights, I would go through that night again…

Before ten, live was simpler…

Now it is terrible.

My life had seemed to evolve around the scar on my face quite often…

Straight away, they had classified this scar as an accident that I had obtained on my own and I was never to voice upon what I had seen that night...My mother's cries and death could only be in my memory, a memory that would never fade! It was as though her mother’s life meant nothing, as life carried on without her, that not much change happened because of someone dying...Yet, for me...My life changed dramatically...

The depths of hell emerged out of nowhere, and so very sudden…I have gone from a child, one that was even learning how to read and write, one that was able to play, able to talk about anything and even the bullying wasn’t so bad…Now, I was a lamb with a pack of wolves, unable to play at all, only learning how to work harder and faster…

I was an ugly slave that has indeed gone mute…

I knew that I wasn’t pretty, far from that of the Young Lady in the residence. No, she had it all, she was loved and valued as the eldest daughter of Lord Billing, her name was Venus...Much different to mine...Her name was known as a Goddess, mine was Malory...One that is practically unheard of...

But that was okay…It had to be okay…As I was a slave and slaves are known to be ugly and nameless. But I felt even more uglier than normal when she was around. She had a father, in which I didn't...She had a pretty face, a lovely and respectful look...And I was in a slave’s garbs, dirty and no longer had soft hands...She also had nothing wrong with her face like I did...She was everything that I wasn't...

I had to live with my face as it was for two years now, and it was something that I could never forget about it, even if I wanted too!

Not only does it remind me of that fateful night of my mother’s death, which was also the start of my muteness, but, other’s always make fun of me because of it.

The children of other slaves and the few that would see the young Lady and Mister, all knew about me and had specific names that they would spit or yelled out at me. ‘Monster’ was the most used name, as they knew what was hiding underneath my homemade mask. If it was very windy, my mask would be blown around and people would see the burnt scar that was there.

Of course, they not only called me ‘Monster’, but also ‘Hideous freak’ and ‘Sinister Devil’, which it took me awhile to get used too. Being called something like that did not help me grow to become a sweet, little girl...Like that of Lady Venus...No...I was stuck inside of a dark vortex, unable to be free from my face but also not sure if I wanted to be free from it anyway...

What else could I do…I can’t change my face…So I had to endure…

Who wants to be pretty anyway? It’s just a scar, why look at it?

That was my life…Making excuses so that peoples actions made sense to me. I don’t think I do it on purpose, I just wanted to understand why being called ‘Monster’ seemed to be something that people laughed at and threw things at you for…And this was the best that I could do…

I had secretly learnt how to apply make up onto my face a few times since…That night…

I felt an extreme type of...Well, I don't know what it was...But, with everyone calling me monster and how that nightmare kept waking me up, I wanted to see what I could do to erase the scar. Even after these two years of enduring with it, I still was not sure why I felt that way...It was confusing to me that I wanted to forget and pretend I wasn't a monster, yet at the same time I loved my mother and didn't want to forget her...

It is unbelievable to me that my scar could nearly disappear with makeup, but…I have not shown what I had looked like to anyone, as I would have gotten scolded because that make up wasn’t mine and in a place that I shouldn’t have been in. Actually, I would have been more then scolded, I may have also been beaten and put inside a dirty closed off area in seclusion.

I had been there once before…After…After becoming a slave…

It wasn't as dark and scary as the place my mother had died in, instead, they didn't feed you and you had to stay in the stench of your own feces. There was a bucket, but that bucket hardly was washed out and so the bugs would be around to make things even more dreadful, that and only having one crude blanket that hardly gave comfort from the cold. It was a terrible place...

Before being a slave, I think I was in my own little world most of the time, disappearing without a trace until dinner time…Was I unhappy even then? Or, was it more fun to go into the bush lands close by and be by myself? Or, was I untainted and had no idea on the cruelty of the world that I had felt that doing that was what made me happy?

Even though I had only gotten bullied by three people back then, the worst worry I had, was that I was not doing my homework. If I didn’t do my homework on time, then I would be hurt…But, everyone knew that! The teacher wasn’t biased on their students, they would hurt anyone with a ruler if that person hadn’t done what they were told to do!

And the bullying went as far as name calling, as I was a ‘slave’s daughter’, and a few times of being pushed into water or down a step or two. But…I felt like I was lucky, and when my mother told me that I could not retaliate, I guess I just did as I was told without thinking about it…Trusting her completely. And my mother would hug me and read to me before bed, she would cook for me, play with me and make me smile…Even though we had

very little time with each other.

It really was like a whole other life, compared to now…A whole other me…

Back then, I didn’t make up excuses, as I hadn’t had to yet...I hadn’t really seen much else besides my mother and I…But now…Now, my eyes have been opened…

Life just got harder and harder…The small sense of freedom I once had, completely disappeared into smithereens and I don’t think I’ll ever get it back…No…I don’t even think about it now. It is something that I can not have!

What would I do with freedom anyway?

I started to realize though, that I was running out of excuses and had to accept that my fate was just like that of my name...And that the people might just hate me…Perhaps…Even my mother.

After she left, I was demanded to take her position as a slave and had to take over all of her chores, even though I was much smaller and weaker then her. Of course, they had to slap me quite a few times because I was still in absolute shock over what had happened that night, but that was what had happened afterwards…Besides that of the minimal help I got with my newly burnt face…

They even made some crude mask for me to put on, their reasoning was that I was just too ugly not to wear the mask…Yet, they took it off themselves and that would confuse me…If they say I looked terrible and give me a mask, then why do they take it off? Did they forget?

And again, I have to make excuses for their actions, so that I could potentially understand. But, it was only just a few months ago that I had made this new mask, as the other had made me itch and made my scar look worse. This new ‘mask’ was a cloth that hung down the side of my face, instead of being all over my face…Strangely, the side of my face that is seen, is relatively still that of a normal twelve year old child’s and I felt better knowing that I was still somewhat normal…I guess…I guess I had lost a lot of self-confidence and I really needed this new mask…As…If I hadn’t had made the mask…I'm sure that the dark vortex, that I was in since my mother's death, was only going to swallow me even more than it already had...

My first excuse about my own mother, was that my mother had done nothing wrong...But, if she had done nothing wrong...They why had she been tortured like that...

Even though I knew I was young and stupid, I knew that what I had been thinking then, did not seem right. What my thoughts seemed to go into, was another type of right and wrong...That my mother may not have done something wrong by me, but instead had done something wrong by Lady Billings. This thought process had confused me quite a few times, but again, it was something else that my mind has been opened up to...

Then, if my mother had done something wrong by Lady Billings, was it still enough to kill her…

Excuse after excuse…And I never understood, but, I have more excuses after that and did not want to continue from disliking my mother, to potentially hating her. I am still unsure how I feel about her even now…But, recently, I have been able to remember the good things about her. How she had made me smile and had me know, even after a long day of work, that I was very important to her.

With the small amount of time that we had, she would gift me a leaf, a branch or some dirt. She had started this from a long time ago and I can never remember why, but every day, she would give me something and smile, smile like there was nothing wrong…

I don’t know, even as I think back now, why she would give me such silly things. Some of those silly things were with her possessions and were now with Lady Billings, yet…For some reason, they felt special and I did want them returned to me…It was just…It was like a far and distant dream though…Because I had started to feel like perhaps I don’t need them anymore or that even if I worked for thirty years…They will never be returned to me…

My thoughts were strange, as they only entered into my mind on the short glimpses that I had when I saw Lady Billings from time to time, but I never understood why she would not give them back...Yet, that was how I felt...

I had been unable to find a reason straight away, as to what happened that night. A reason for my mother's death, my scar, my life being turned upside down. Why?

I guess it was because I was just too young…But, I have found that excuses tend to run out, and through that…I have found a few real ‘reasons’ out in the last couple of months, one of them is why my mother was even killed that very night…Yes, I remembered what the Lady had said, that my mother had said something that she wasn't supposed to…

“Malory! Don’t make me call you a third time!”

Getting up in a hurry, I take away the light blanket over me, that hardly keeps me warm, and put on attire over my under clothes. Quickly, I placed my mask on, tying it up at the back and over my hair, which sometimes

gets caught into the knot.

The room I was in held other slaves just like me, they also have what I have and put on the cheap, heavily used leather boots over our well used, and even in need of repair, socks. My hard, yet enduring, outer clothing was not comfortable, but I hardly thought about it now. Before I was ten, I had better clothing, but they were all confiscated along with my mother’s possessions. I did not have any jewelry, nor did I have any makeup.

I held very little in my small quarter where my bed was, and those items are not even worthy of being stolen…

I was a slave…Slaves should not have anything of any value, they aren’t to think and do as they are told…They work from sun up to sun down…And, it was now time for me to work...

***

I was a slave in the Billings residence and there was a difference between a maid and slave. Maids were able to sleep longer then I, eat more then I and most likely did less then I…In fact, because the Billings residence had quite a number of slaves, they didn’t require all that many maids. I found out that maids actually get paid and can leave the residence every now and again, so I guessed, since we were working basically for free, why would they purchase or employ more people…Especially when slaves did more work, where as maids mostly worked inside the house and with their master…

As a slave, I shoveled smelly or rotten deeds from animals and even people, carried heavy lots of harvest, food or materials over large distances, washed clothes, even in the coldest depths of winter, feeding animals, planting, boiling or harvesting crops. I was rarely able to bathe, stop for a snack, take a leisurely walk and I was to always do as I was told…

I had even seen my name on a piece of paper once…I think that meant that…I think that I am owned…Like that of a painting or jewelry. But, is it really like that?

...I guess, it was something that I was too scared to find out about…I already know what it's like to never be able to do as I want, that wanting something was useless to a slave...But, if I am like that of jewelry or a painting, will they dispose of me whenever they want? It wasn't like I didn't notice a slave had gone missing while I had been here...Where did they go? What had they done?

Some slaves were lucky, they were able to work inside the residence and got treated a little bit better then I…I, whom has been told now to clean the stable.

I nod, as it was only natural to do as I was asked. Not only that, but I have refused to speak since…That night…

At first, they hadn’t paid much attention to the fact that I had become mute, as I was recuperating and trying to stay out of trouble anyway. But, after some time of practically being ignored and not treating my burn as good as it should have, they had come to see that I was still not speaking and…Well, after I was abused, the Lord of the residence stated that it didn’t matter that I was no longer speaking because I was still doing my work. After that, they had walked away as though it was nothing…Like they had done what they could or took it as far as it could go…And simply left.

Now that I was a little older, I guess they had just wanted to bully me and the chance disappeared after the Lord had said that.

I didn’t understand all those many months ago, why he was being lenient. Why he had stopped them from punishing me anymore than they already had…Well, I had been slapped and kicked, my face only showing damage, but my insides had hurt worse. But, as a slave, I can’t say it was injustice, it was being punished…I was punished for being silent…

So, I guess, after some time, that had made sense.

That I was to endure what they were to do with me…Yet, at the same time, it didn’t make any sense whatsoever…As I felt like I hadn’t done anything wrong…They had told me to never speak of what I wasn’t supposed to, and I

hadn’t…Was this…Was this going to be my life from now on?

Could they really even kill someone, and it didn’t mean anything to anyone? Just like that of my mother…

Yes…I wanted to know the reason why they had killed my mother. I wanted to know so badly, why I had to watch her go through so much suffering, why I had to go through so much pain!

I wanted to see if there was a way to stop my nightmares, or perhaps find another way to live. I wanted…

Yes, it took awhile after my mother’s death to gain some kind of want in my life, and this was it. To find out why she was tortured and killed…And it had to do with my father…

My mother hadn’t spoken much of my father, only that he loved me. I never met him or knew his name. I had never known where he lived and why he wasn’t with us. Why hadn’t he helped us? This question was always on my mind…Why didn’t my father help us when we needed him?

After I found out who my father was though, I no longer asked this question. It was a dim shine of light all these years, that…Maybe, he would come and rescue me. That he wasn’t dead but maybe on a trip and would return and take me away…But that dim light vanished and darkness was the only thing that was left behind…

The information I had found out, also had something to do with the Lady Venus and Mister Mason, and their stares and glares at me.

Mister Mason was the first born son of Lord Billings. He was now eighteen, and his sister, Lady Venus, was fourteen. There was also another little girl to the Lord and Lady, called Brea, who was now five, but I rarely see her.

Mister Mason seemed someone else when I wasn't around, he had more patience and seemed happy...Yet, whenever he was around me, he would sneer at me and become someone else. I did dislike that, even with my

excuses, but what I disliked more, was his steward…The person that follows Mister Mason around and did his bidding, was someone that would kick me and hit me, yet show a strange expression on his face when we were alone. It scared me…I would always feel a cold shiver run through me at his look…

Lady Venus confused me, she would make me look like I was asking for help or something because she would be nicer to me in front of her friend, Vanessa...But, when her friend wasn't around, she would be a different person too and would normally break something, that I would be forced to take the punishment for. But, for so long, I never understood why they acted this way...Until I had done my own investigation and listened in on a secret conversation between Lord Billings and Lady Billings…

The reason why my mother died...What she had spoken of, when she wasn't supposed too...

…It was because, Mister Mason, Lady Venus, Brea and I shared the same father…

The Lord of the Billings residence…Was my biological father…

The hate and disgust in their eyes, and what I had found out, did not make any kind of sense to me. Shouldn’t we love each other?

Aren’t we a family? So…Excuse after excuse came out, as I had tried to understand and not dislike them for the way that they had, and still are, treating me. But, it was just so hard to keep it up, as they kept hurting me

and making things harder for me!

How could I continue to endure my own reflected pain, by not seeing things with my own eyes! I knew it! They hated me! They think I’m absolutely worthless and should not exist! So, that dim light of hope, of my father rescuing me, had gone out…I had lost any kind of faith I had in my father, not that it had been much to begin with, as I thought he must have died, but I did not think that my own Father was married to the woman who had killed my mother. I blame both of them very much!

It is not easy to show that I do not know of this secret, or that I don't care whenever I see them in my sight. I get so tensed up, that after they are gone I simply fall to the ground breathing heavily and trying not to cry. That night, I see it so often, so vividly, like it was only yesterday! My father had not stopped it from happening…My father…

The pain of seeing them uncaringly living on and continue to treat me badly, seems to hinder my thoughts often...Due to my anger, I am always glad to work away from the main household, even if it is work that is far too much for me to bear!

Apparently, my mother and father did something bad and I really shouldn’t be here...That, I was indeed a child of the Lord, and that was what became known to the Young Lady and Mister, from my own mother’s mouth. That I was indeed…Their sibling. That was it! Why did my mother die for this?

...I don't understand...

I was related to them by blood…So, they killed my mother and made me a slave, working me from sunup to sundown, calluses on my hands, scar on my face and beating me until I’m so weak that I can’t see my health getting any better! In fact…My health was declining…

If I knew that blood was the problem…Perhaps I should have killed myself, or ran away…

Was I really going to stay here to retrieve my mother’s items and continue to be treated this way?

I can only let out a weak laugh…Why fight it…I knew my body was unwell. Perhaps I am staying here to wait out my death…It’s at least once a week that I am either beaten, teased or put into a situation that I can barely handle…Was I staying to just endure that and let death take me?

What was I doing!?

I wasn’t too sure…The only want that I had, since my mother’s passing, was that to find out why she had died…I knew that now and…They treat me terribly…Yet, now that want is gone…Was the new desire that I had…Was it to die?

It was hard to think, when I know I’m not supposed to. I didn't have the right to think as I was a slave, it wasn’t something I could do…I can’t act on my own accord, I must do as I’m told…But, it wasn’t like I voiced out my thoughts, as I never spoke…The never ending, dark vortex sucked me in and I didn’t know which way was out. I didn’t know what to do and I didn’t want to remember…But, I would always have nightmares, I would always be reminded of my scar, I would always try…So hard…Not to cry!

***

It was hard to grow up to understand when I wasn’t able to become smarter. The lessons I had received before my mother’s death, they had immediately stopped when I had become a slave. Even when I had attempted to add the lesson into my busy day, I was still unable to go. When I had tried, I was scolded and beaten…For ten hours, I had to kneel and be told about what a slave can and can not do…And one of those things was, a slave does not need to

know how to read! Added on to that, slaves don’t need to learn how to play music! They never speak back! A slave is to be unseen, unheard and unspoken of!

A slave is a nobody that works.

Slave…Slave…Slave!

I know my young mind asks a lot of why's, and it does irritate me...Because sometimes I get curious upon the answer. Just like, why doesn't a slave get paid? Are slaves made because they are taking another slave's place, like I had? Why must I do as I'm told, when I will get hurt? Why is it so important that we aren’t allowed to think and feel? Why is there such a difference when we are the same…We are all...People…

So, all in all, I don’t know what I was doing, but I did know that I was a slave, and I was told to do things and that I had to do them. And that seemed like a simple thing, as it didn’t make me want anything.

Because, if you want something and know you can’t have it…Ever…Then what was the point in wasting time thinking about it?

Well, that is the point of my thoughts now...But it hadn't been beforehand. Even though I had gone mute, it didn't mean I didn't want things...But, my resolve to get something I wanted was easily diminished, due to how I would be treated like in return.

In just a few short months, I was just too scared to want something. In fact, it was much easier to act like you're dead as a slave...If a slave shows any kind of life in their eyes and actions, it seemed to be something easy to find and something easily 'dealt' with. It was also something people used against us, as slaves…Because they would lure you in to do their dirty work for them, by saying they will give us what we want in return. I saw this personally with one of the middle-aged slaves and their ending was not good! Not only did I receive yet another look upon death, but I had also learnt the lesson that wanting something can also be a weakness that someone could use you for. It was indeed, a scary lesson to learn…

So...My eyes never showed interest, or I would work all night, or kneel all day.

I didn't show any kind of acceptance or good mood, because I would be singled out and threatened to be sold off. That wasn't the worst of it...One time I had lined up with two others that had either been naughty or being seen as someone that didn't ‘think like a slave' and an old man had come to take a female away...And she never came back.

I never understood what people had said, but apparently her 'life' was now that of the old man's and he will do whatever he pleased with her. When I sneaked a glance at the people who spoke of the old man, the two older girls shook their heads and both of them muttered that they will prefer to kill themselves if they ever be put into that position.

Why?

That man seemed to be well known, so why would the girls fear him buying them? Should I be worried too?

Nonetheless, I learnt my lesson, even though I didn't quite understand what the danger was...

Now that I have been in this position for about two years, I was able to think more clearly about things. What wasn't as clear, though, was when I had been ten, after the first few months of my mother's death...It was like my mind had gone elsewhere, because when I came back, knowing all these new things, I still felt like I hadn't been here all this

time. I had taken everything in somehow, apparently...But while I felt like I was away, but still here...It seemed that it was to get my mother's body buried, instead of that of her lifeless corpse being tied to a tree in the middle of the bush lands…

When I had finally retrieved her body, so that I could bury her properly, I couldn’t eat for two days…

What had been ‘left’ had not been my mother…In fact, I am positive that the remains that I buried of my mother, was missing at least two limbs and much of the…Inside…

At least half of my mother was missing…

They had thrown her body into the forest and let the beasts scavenge for it...But...In my strange departure with the memories that are blurry, I had done whatever they told me to do, so that I could bury my mother properly instead...I don’t know why I was like that, but I think it was easier then now…Now I think ‘why’ a lot and…The pain inflicted is more. I think I was asleep somehow, and now…I’ve woken up…

…Having shed a deep amount of tears, at the new grave back then, and with yet another type of nightmare that I might not ever forget in this lifetime, it had woken me up and brought me back to life.

I really did wonder why I had been like that and why I was suddenly back to feeling more alive. Was it because…Was it because I couldn’t handle my life? Was that how I wanted to be?

Whatever my questions were, it didn’t matter. I was no longer able to go back to feeling numb, no matter how much I tried…

After those first few blurry months, I was still very innocent, as I had wanted to think the best of each situation...Even

though I was crying rivers of tears inside...

It was like there were two of me...The one on the outside showed obedience, endurance and tolerance...Otherwise, the one on the inside was crawling up into a ball, unable to handle the situation.

The outside me tried to be the best slave I could be, doing whatever they asked, even if it was to eat dirt or do a dare that had me go into a dog pen! But...

Even wanting to make them happy and do whatever they asked me to do, got me into trouble too…So, I don’t want to make them happy anymore, I just do as I am told…

Now that time has passed, the inside me has started to grow. I felt myself start to open my eyes and really see what was going on around me. Yet, even if my eyes were opened now, it didn't stop them from continuing to treat me as a slave and telling me what to do!

So, even though I had decided not to do things because I thought it would make them happy, the orders and bullying didn’t stop…My thoughts were the only thing that had changed.

One time, I was given a letter to give to someone outside of the capital, but the person I was supposedly supposed to hand the letter to, did not even exist…And since I had done this in the afternoon, I was locked out of the capital, due to late hours, and then I was disciplined upon returning back to the residence the next day…

That night outside, had been long and cold, as I had nowhere to stay and no food and water…It hadn’t helped when the gates where once again opened the next morning, that I had lacked the energy to directly race back to the residence…It took me three times as long to return and I am sure that had made things even worse…

I guess…These kinds of things helped me become more weaker…As I can’t…Get any stronger while I’m continuously hungry, working and hurt. And, if things continued like this, as I tried to hide my limp on the way to the stable, then I may not make it another couple of months…

Strangely, that time limit gave me a sense of relief. To a certain degree, maybe it was the only want I had now, to just continue and wait out my life like this…

Some other questions that had filled me, like, why was it wrong, that my mother had said the truth? Why was I born, when obviously I was not supposed to be? Why…Why do they treat me like this, even though I knew they obviously hated me, but why did they hate me? Had I done something unintentionally bad to them, without me knowing?

I don’t think I’ve answered many of my questions, as I had not asked anybody, and I have not found an answer on my own.

No, if I speak, would I get into more trouble?

Mmm, perhaps I should speak then, then maybe my demise would come earlier.

Then, wouldn’t my pain and suffering stop?

But, even though I thought this, I couldn’t help but remember my mother and the pain inflicted to her because she had done this type of thing…Giving me the idea that if I spoke…The agony I would have to suffer through would be a lot…A lot more then what I would suffer through if I didn’t speak at all…Just the thought of going through what my mother had…

No…

Seeing what happened to her again and again, even now two years later…I hardly had any courage at all, yet alone courage to speak!

I didn’t see me speaking in any time in the close future, which meant that I already knew that for the rest of my life…There was most likely never going to be another word spoken from me. I…Will most likely die a mute. Die with this twisted vortex knotted inside my tummy, making me feel that death would not only be a release, but also something that felt unfulfilling…

All I could do is sigh and think that if I don’t speak, then there was no way a secret was not going to get released…

Lady Billings words still came to mind very vividly…

I must never forget them!

That’s right, I may not be learning anymore, but I knew the basics! And as I lived each day, I feel and see that people really believed that I had become mute and perhaps even deaf…Which led me to learn quite a number of secrets…

I knew that one of the slave girls had been selling herself to one of the men that worked here. She had been planning to run away when she had enough money!

I also knew that Mister Mason, my half brother, was seeing a woman secretly outside of the residence. I see him leave the estate and even pick a flower before he quickly disappears. Upon his return once, I saw him caressing a piece of small jade that hung around his neck. It has been in the last month, that the mention of his future marriage has come up and I was sure that the Mister had but forth a name and that name was the woman he had already been with all this time. I had seen her once, walking past the residence one fine day. It wasn’t like people didn’t walk past the residence, as we were in the capital, but she did walk slowly and looked around a few times but didn’t dare to stop walking…

I may know of this secret, yet how is it to help me?

Other secrets are that the Lord cries sometimes, and that Lady Billings consistently wanted something to talk about, like that of other wives and their children or what to wear to an event...I also found that the estate was not as rich as I once thought, and that the family was not as well-known as I thought as well…So many things, only because I shut my mouth, and through that, it seemed to have opened my ears and eyes more.

So many secrets of no help to me…Yet, this was my world…The Billings residence…