The Life of a Tere Slave

4: Acacia

 Wist sat in the silence and dark of her bedroom staring at the high ceiling of her bedroom, wishing that she wasn't alone.  Wishing that she had someone to talk to about what she'd seen.  However, as she thought about it, she worried that in this cut-throat world, no one would understand her disgust.  No one would understand how disturbed she was.  Joss was such a kind guy.  He gave her advice.  He gave Wist hope that her sister had been shown some sort of kindness from him before she died.

 That was another thing that kept Wist awake at night.  Her sister.  She just hoped that Acacia hadn't been sold into the sex trade.  Those fears had originally been put to rest, since she had thought Joss to be a house servant.  Maybe Acacia had been a servant in Cory's house as well.  Or maybe they had met at a banquet or a party like tonight.  Maybe they'd talked about Acacia's little sister, Wist.  Maybe Acacia had had a friend.  But now that Wist knew for sure that Joss was one of the slaves being sold for sex, she feared for what her sister had to endure.  Maybe Acacia hadn't been a house servant at all.  Maybe she'd been in the same situation as Joss.  Only tagging along because she was pretty.  And getting tossed around to whichever man or women bided highest.

 It made Wist sick to her stomach when she thought about her sister.  She hadn't seen her in years, and now... she never would.  There was no doubt in her mind know that Acacia was dead.  The way Joss had looked at her... It sent the bad sort of butterflies into her stomach and made her want to throw up just to get them out.  Just to get them to stop bothering her.  Just to get them to stop making her remember.

 Maybe it was better though.  That Acacia was gone.  That she no longer had to suffer in this cruel, self-centered world that no longer gave a shit about the people it profited from.  It really was a cruel world. All hopes of God and an afterlife had been tarnished by the direction the world took.  But at least, Acacia could not feel anymore.  At least she couldn't hurt.  And that brought Wist some sort of comfort.

   But then, in those hours between bedtime and morning, she kept thinking about the way Acacia had died.  Maybe a "buyer" had turned violent.  Maybe there was an accident.  Maybe she'd lived past her usefulness.  Maybe she'd rebelled like Bel, and then just disappeared never to be seen again.  Or maybe... maybe she'd taken her own life.

 That option appealed to Wist most.  She hoped Acacia had the ability to at least control her death in a world where everything was decided for the poor and impoverished.  Hopefully, she at least had that luxury of choice.  And then Wist started thinking about her own death.  How would she go?  When would she go?  A year?  Ten?  Maybe just a month?  Not knowing "when" was the thing that made Wist's stomach turn.  And then she thought... would she have the strength, the courage to take her own life if things got so bad?

 Wist knew she would never take her own life in the current situation.  But what was the limit?  How far would she go?  What was so bad that it could no longer be endured?  Wist decided she would know if it ever happened.  She would just know.  But even then she wondered if she'd have the strength to do it.  She figured in the moment, she be able to do it.  If she wasn't thinking about it.  If she didn't think about the permanent consequences.  She fell asleep with these thoughts in her head...

 Wist was back home with Acacia at her side.  They were playing outside of their little hut.  Wist was around 7 years old and Acacia was 12.  It was in the days prior to her parents confining them inside the house.  A rumor of disappearing children from the streets encouraged parents to conceal their property indoors rather than letting them wander for allotted periods of time.

 Wist remembered this day.

 "Acacia! Come back!" Wist giggled as her sister ran over one of the bluffs about a mile and a half from their village of the poor. "Wait for me!"