Cassandra's POV
I'm being restrained and my body aches. Cuts criss cross along my legs and arms and some are still leaking blood while others are crusted over. I see his face above me and I struggle against the restraints. Pain sears across my skin on my exposed back as the crack of a whip sounds. I scream in agony as I feel the blood dip down my back coloring it dark red. I struggle against my restraints and the adjust. I look to see his two muscle lackeys holding me down. Anger surges through me and I scream in anger as I yank my arms down catching them off guard slamming their heads together. I swing back catching him by surprise with a back fist. They're all unconscious and with anger coursing through me, I run out of the building. I move through the night as I run towards freedom. I see a home lit up come into view and begin pounding on the door.
"OH MY CHILD!", a woman's southern gasp reaches me.
"Help me please? Where am I?", I ask.
She steps to the side and lets me in. I collapse on the floor as soon as I step foot inside the foyer. She yelps in surprise and locks the door before coming to me.
"Please. I can't go back. I will die.", I plead out of breath.
"Child, what happened to you?", she asks.
"Slave trade....I was sold.", i breathe out.
"Let me call my son.", she says.
"No. Turn all the lights off. They can't know I am here. They'll kill you.", I warn.
"No one is gonna kill me, sugar.", she replies as she strokes my hair.
"Listen to me. Turn the lights off. Do it now. I was never here.", I say.
She sighs but nods standing and doing as I say. I push myself up off the floor of the foyer and my back screams at me to stop. I begin crawling towards what I assume is a kitchen and whimpers leave my lips as the pain courses through my body. Once I am encased in darkness, I begin to breathe a bit better. She comes over to me and gets her hands under my arms. She picks me up surprisingly with ease and has a firm grip as she holds me steady.
"Child, don't look so surprised. I work in a factory and bake. I got no choice but to be strong.", she says softly.
She walks with me to the kitchen and leans me against the counter. My back is screaming for relief and my legs shake from the amount of energy it is taking for me to stay upright. She quickly clears the table and comes to me. Guiding me to the table, I climb on top and lay on my stomach and a whimper leaves me again as my body is slowly relaxing through the agony.
"I need to clean your wounds.", she says quietly.
"They might already be infected.", I say.
"All the more reason to clean them.", she chides walking away.
Returning moments later with a ton of rags, rubbing alcohol, a sewing kit, and her phone, she begins her work on me. I wince as the sting of the alcohol hits the smaller cuts. She calls someone and Ican't move. My energy is gone. She has a single small flashlight in her hand as she works on my cut while continually calling the same person. She moves to my back and a gasp leaves her at the sight. I can't even see what it looks like but if it is anything like it feels then it's horrifying.
"Who could do such a thing?", she whispers.
"Momma?", a voice crackles from her phone and I jerk in surprise.
