Wednesday, September 29th 1875
Cornwall, England
Dear diary,
Well, today was the 2nd worst day of my life and at the same time a kind of good day.
The second worst day because of Isaac. I went to the factory with Thomas, Mary-Margaret, Ross, Judith, George and Abigail. Not really with George and Abigail because they had to help Mother with something first, so Judith and I took our siblings with us. When we arrived there, Isaac was sitting in one of the dreamchairs. Dreamchairs is just the name I once gave those chairs that are really comfortable and are so soft, you could just fall in sleep in them. I call them dreamchairs because it's one of my many dreams to sit in one of them.
Anyway, that's not what I was writing about. So he was sitting on one of those chairs with a smoke pipe in his mouth and he was just looking at us, as if in deep thought. That's what the other children said after. I thought it was more as if he thought he had to take a piss but then something bigger came in return. When that thought came across my head I smirked, but I didn't notice it myself. Isaac saw it and he took his whip and I knew what he was going to do, as if I have never seen it before. Mother and Father do it all the time, and only to me. He came cloeser. Here it comes, the first stroke is always the most painful, but just bear with it, I thought. When he was right in front of me, and when I thought he was going to hit me with his whip, he did something else. Not as in, he hugged me or he gave me a pig that Father could prepare. I mean that instead of hitting me, he kicked me so I could fall onto the ground. The bastard. He then kicked me again, this time in my stomach, which was yes, extremely painful. After that he leaned in and asked: "What's so funny, you little piece of shit? Is this funny?" He then punched me in the face, but somehow it wasn't as painful as when he kicked me. "Is it still funny?" he asked me. I didn't answer because I was practically suffering. "I thought so." and then he spat on me, right in my face. Jerk. He walked away to his so called 'office'. My siblings were in the other part of the factory, so they didn't know what was happening. All the children walked away from me. Cowards.
I then got up and brushed the dust off of me when a boy walked towards me. He had short, brown hair that was very messy. Hazel coloured eyes and thick eyebrows. He came up to me and asked me if I was okay, and I went like seriously? I just got beaten up by that damned jerk and you ask me if I'm okay? "I'm sorry, but what should I then say or ask?" he said. "Never mind. We have to go back to work before he comes back and sees us doing nothing." I answered him. I actually did mind, but it wasn't that important. "You're right, let's go. Oh, by the way, my name is Elijah Jones." he said and I felt a bit awkward. Just a bit, even though I don't really know why I was. I said: "I'm Demelza Watson." and that's what makes this day better, because I may or may not have a friend.
Sincerely,
Demelza Watson
