John stood before her, arms crossed, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "I'll be leaving for some time," he announced, his tone steady and commanding as he watched her from the doorframe. She sat in the corner of the room, the once colorful wallpaper now faded, reminding her of the life that felt a world away.
His words hung in the air, a mixture of dread and strange relief washing over her like a passing storm. What would he do while he was gone? She wondered, a mixture of curiosity and fear swirling in her mind. "I expect you to remember your place while I'm gone," he continued, his gaze sharp and piercing. "You will be my good little pet, won't you?"
"Yes, Master," she replied, each word heavy with the resignation that had become her second skin, a mantra she repeated to survive.
"Good." The corners of his mouth curled upward, satisfied by her compliance. "I'll be keeping an eye on you, even from afar. Don't forget what you are to me."
With that, he turned and stepped into the darkness beyond the door, the sound of the latch clicking shut echoed through the room, leaving her in oppressive silence. As the reverberation faded, she let the walls close in, feeling the familiar tightness in her chest. John's presence always lingered like a shadow, and with his absence—in a strange way—came a moment of freedom.
Sitting cross-legged on the cold floor, she placed her hands gently on her belly, feeling the small, stirring life inside her. "I will survive," she whispered to the tiny being growing within her. "I will escape this demon." Each word felt like a promise, strong yet fragile, as the flicker of hope ignited in the pool of darkness.
With those thoughts anchoring her, she rose and began to roam the sprawling estate. Shadows stretched and flickered along the walls, the dim light casting an eerie glow. The once-impressive decor felt cold and unwelcoming. As she walked, she absorbed the tales of anguish embedded in the peeling paint and worn-out furniture—each corner steeped in the ghostly remains of the other slaves John had brought here.
Her escape from those memories was short-lived, for the estate whispered their stories back to her. "None had endured long," she thought, recalling those whose spirits John had crushed. "They had all succumbed—broken, shattered by his cruel games." Laughter, once alive in these halls, was nothing more than echoes of despair locked away.
As she wandered deeper into the mansion, time slipped away. Day gave way to night, the creation of stars slowly disappearing outside, replaced by the creeping shroud of darkness that blanketed the estate. The world outside felt like a distant dream, far removed from her reality.
Suddenly, the memories of her past started to crowd her mind, overwhelming and vivid—a lifeline to a time long lost. It all began with the town where she grew up, alive with laughter and warmth. Happy memories flashed through her like a slideshow, the vibrant images contrasting sharply with her present existence.
She could almost see her family again. Her mother, kneeling in the garden with hands buried in rich soil, coaxing bright flowers to bloom. The way her father's hearty laugh would fill the air as he chased her and her siblings around the yard was imprinted on her heart, a reminder of joy so innocent and pure. She could feel the sunshine on her face, the breeze tousling her hair—moments full of life.
Then, the sweet recollection twisted into something dark and treacherous. The day of the slave raid surged forward like a tidal wave—a sudden shock of chaos, fire illuminating the sky as it consumed everything she held dear. She still heard the screams echoing in her ears. The scent of smoke had choked the air, burnt wood and ash mingling with the cries of despair.
She could only watch in horror as her world burned. Friends turned into figures of smoke, faces disappearing amidst the flames. The town she knew so well, the laughter and camaraderie, turned into nightmares stitched together by pain.
And yet, she had survived. A chilling reality that weighed heavily on her soul, gnawing at the edges of her mind. "Why only me?" she whispered to the empty room, the question lingering in the air like an unanswered prayer.
As she continued to roam, the memories enveloped her, squeezing her heart until it felt like it might burst. The laughter of her family, the warmth of their smiles—now all snuffed out. She had been left alone to bear witness to the destruction. Drawn from her thoughts, a wave of guilt crashed over her. Survivorship can be cruel, too.
Drawing a shaky breath, she tried to push the haunting images aside, focusing instead on the life growing within her—her child. "I won't let history repeat itself," she vowed, feeling renewed determination swell in her heart like a rising tide. "For you, little one, I will find a way."
As the days stretched into uncertain weeks, the shadows of the mansion seemed more pronounced. The seasons whispered their quiet change beyond the windows, taunting her with glimpses of the world she longed to embrace again. A breeze would occasionally sneak through cracks in the wood, carrying the scent of rain and blooming flowers—reminders of a vibrant life beyond her constricted space.
Every afternoon, she stood by the balcony, soaking in the fleeting moments of freedom, longing to feel the grass between her toes again. She would close her eyes and picture the fields—the splashes of color, the sound of children's laughter intertwining with the chorus of cicadas. "I want to feel that again," she whispered, her heart aching for what had been lost.
And then, the thought took root—an idea sparked in the recesses of her mind. If she could find a way to escape this estate, away from John's grip, she could reclaim not only her own identity but the future of her child. Each moment spent in that room was a moment closer to breaking free from the shackles that had bound her.
Her plans began to take shape bit by bit. She had observed John, his routines, his habits—how he interacted with the world outside. She'd noticed the gaps, the fleeting moments when he would leave her unattended. Gaps in the darkness that could penetrate the light. This estate, once a prison, could become her way to freedom—a delicate balance between patience and cunning.
Determination coursed through her veins, igniting her like a torch destined to burn brightly. She envisioned herself escaping through the shadows, slipping away into the darkness, where she could taste the freedom she craved. With every passing sunset, she filled her mind with plans, strategies, and a vision for the life she wanted to build outside these walls.
"I have to be quick," she reminded herself. "I have to be smart." She thought of the other slaves who had come before—a grim reminder of what awaited those who failed. But she felt a fierce resolve within; she wouldn't let fear ensnare her like it had for them.
With each risk taken, every whispered promise to herself, she laid her heart bare for her child—a legacy of strength that her own life had nearly snuffed out. As she made her way back to her spot in the room, she touched her belly again. "We'll find our way," she promised, her voice barely above a whisper.
The future was uncertain, and within the shadows of John's estate, darkness swirled all around. But she would bear the weight of it, transforming it into a weapon of her own. The flame of freedom beckoned, and she was determined to chase it until her last breath.