The Colonial Heart ✓ (Editing)

Chapter 33

                                A M A

As Thema struggled against her restraints, her voice trembled with desperation. "This was all a terrible idea!" she exclaimed, her words laced with regret. I cast her a sidelong glance, my eyes rolling heavenward in exasperation. "We're fortunate they spared our lives,"I hissed, my tone low and even.

The soldiers had bound our hands and feet, shrouding our heads with coarse potato sacks. The cart's wooden slats creaked beneath us as we bounced along the uneven terrain.

Thema's voice cracked as she spoke, her fear palpable. "What if they...what if they defile us and discard us like trash?" I countered, my words firm but measured, "If they dare commit such an atrocity, may the heavens condemn them. But I suspect they'll take us back to our lands, intent on exploiting us as forced labor."

Thema's despairing sigh was audible, even through the sack. "I should have stayed with the pregnant women..."she trailed off, her voice heavy with remorse. I offered a mordant smile, my lips curling upward. 'You aren't pregnant but do not worry, we can always push you out; you can hobble your way back to the others and get pregnant!"

Thema's scowl was almost palpable.

The soldier's voice cut through our exchange, his words hesitant. "What are we to do with them?" A pause, followed by a name that made my heart stutter: "Commander Spencer." Another soldier's voice, low and cautionary,

As the cart came to an abrupt halt, the sudden stillness was shattered by the sound of footsteps and muffled cries. I was unceremoniously yanked off the cart, slung over a shoulder, and kicked until exhaustion claimed me. This was our moment of reckoning – the point of no return.

The person carrying me dropped me with a callous disregard, and I fell with a dull thud. 'Chivalry, it seems, it is dead,'I thought wryly, as I was forced to kneel. The marble floor beneath me was cold and uncomfortable on my skin.

The potato sack was ripped from my head, and I locked eyes with a man whose gaze was as brutal as his features.

In the corner of my eye, I saw the other girls, their faces etched with terror, their eyes wide with fear. I felt a pang of guilt for leading them into this abyss.

I gave them a subtle nod, a reminder of our plan, as I took in our opulent surroundings. Crystal chandeliers refracted the light, casting rainbow hues across the room, while the sweet strains of a piano and violin filled the air. The man's voice cut through the music, his words dripping with disdain. "Goodness, you all look like savages."

The soldiers' query, "What shall we do with them?" hung in the air, met with an oppressive silence. I struggled to steady my breath, but it was a shaky, uneven thing. The man's gesture was curt, and a soldier stepped forward, sword at the ready, sending my heart into a frantic panic.

I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper, "Please, have mercy. We'll serve you, do anything, just spare our lives." The man's response was curt, "Did I ask you to speak?" I bit back a retort, my lips compressing into a thin line. My despise for him him seemed to grow in that moment.

With a wave of his hand, he assigned us to our respective fates: Kwame to Sir Jonathan, Afua to the soldiers, Thema to Sir Michael, Adzo and Abina to Daniel, and me to serve him. Our destinies were sealed, our lives reduced to mere commodities.

As the girls were dragged away, I was left alone with the man who had orchestrated our displacement. His eyes gleamed with triumph, and I could sense the satisfaction he derived from having gotten what he wanted. The scoundrel!

He grasped my arm, pulling me to my feet with a force that left me stumbling. The ropes binding my legs hindered my movement, but he swiftly cut them with a pocket knife, its blade glinting in the light. I winced as he jerked me forward, my legs trembling beneath me.

As we traversed the corridor, stairs, and finally entered a room, my mind recoiled at the potential horrors that awaited me. However, the presence of two other girls, busily cleaning, offered a measure of solace. Their eyes widened in fear as they beheld the man, and they hastily fell to their knees.

"W-we were poorly warned of your arrival, my good sir," one of them stammered, her voice trembling. The man's response was curt, his disregard for their distress evident.

"Ensure she is bathed and acquainted with her duties," he commanded, his Received Pronunciation a testament to his British connections. "My wife, Lady Victoria, and our son, Master Edgar, will be joining us from London, and I expect the house to be immaculate. If they arrive before my return, attend to them. You must make a good impression, after all." With that, he released his grip on my arm, leaving me shaken and bewildered.

As the man departed, the girls enveloped me in a warm, tender embrace, their faces etched with concern. I recognized them as familiar vendors from the market, their names unknown to me until now. "Are you both faring well?" I asked, knowing the answer was likely a sorrowful one. They pulled away, their heads shaking in unison like autumn leaves in a gentle breeze.

"They have done nothing but plunder everything from us," one girl whispered, her voice trembling like a delicate flower in a storm. "The men are subjected to cruel punishments for the most trivial infractions... it's a heartbreaking spectacle to behold." Her lips quivered, as if struggling to contain the emotions threatening to spill forth.

The other girl nodded in somber agreement. "We women have been fortunate to receive merciful treatment from a kindred spirit, a young man who's part of their group yet doesn't share their convictions. He's been our guardian angel, but alas, he's departing in two weeks... his absence will be deeply felt." Her words conjured images of a mysterious benefactor, and I wondered about his story.

The first girl gently interrupted my reverie, "But we must attend to your needs. You'll require a bath and suitable attire for Lady Victoria and Master Edgar's arrival."

"I shall continue tidying the room, whilst you attend to her," Sarah, formerly known as Angela, said with a gentle smile, her eyes hinting at a deeper sorrow. I stared at her, taken aback by the weight of her words.

"Since when has Sarah become your name, it sounds rather foreign to me?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. She sighed, her gaze drifting downward, as if the memories themselves were too burdensome to bear.

"Our master, that perfidious man, has seen fit to bestow upon us new names, stripping us of our true identities. Let us not dwell on this travesty, please."

I nodded, my heart heavy with empathy for their plight. Morowa, now known as Jenny, spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper. "I shall escort you to the bathroom, downstairs." She led me to a bathroom, where a large tub filled with awfully cold water awaited me.

I was rather hesitant to get into the bath, surely I would catch pneumonia. "Does that good lad you mentioned not care about our health?" I asked and Jenny laughed.
"No one has bothered to the him, it is rather unnecessary and he is a busy man, even I would hate to bother him  after all it is just water."

I sighed an okay before stripping and getting into the tub. I winced at the cold substance that hugged my skin.

But after a while I got used to the water and I finally bathed and the feeling of  refreshment .Afterward, she presented me with a plain, uninspired outfit, a far cry from the vibrant colors and patterns that once danced across our traditional attire.

I felt a pang of melancholy, missing the beauty of my homeland's clothing, now lost to me like a fleeting dream.

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