Slave Sisters

(10) Slave Sisters

Enjoy!

17th September, 1804

Tayla and I were both given slightly tattered and thin shawls, which had probably been worn by someone before us, to wear over our dresses. I did not know if it was either because of Mrs Wicker wanted for us to look good, or the sudden cold weather that had approached. Maybe she was a kind person after all. Sadly summer had just ended, and in its place was autumn. Already the green leaves on the trees were turning red and crispy and floating to the ground.

The loose strands of my still short hair gently blew in the soft wind as I looked ahead. Oh, how I missed my soft long hair. As Tayla and I walked, I tried hard to ignore the glances of eyes that each stayed on me for at least a moment before looking in another direction. It made me feel humiliated and embarrassed of how we were the ones that had to lead the Wicker family through the town to church. Their voices was a low buzz of murmur they all talked quietly behind us.

Mrs Wicker prodded our backs with her long index finger, “Pick up the pace girls. We do not want to be late.”

In ten minutes we had finally made it to our destination. A man in a suit stood at the entrance, shaking each person’s hand and saying over and over again, “Welcome Sir,” or, “Welcome Madam.” When it came to us he looked down disgustedly at me before smiling back up at Mr Wicker and greeting him. A growl that I could only hear sounded in my throat.

Though I liked the look of the church, I despised of the colours. They were dull, which made my emotions instantly turn into the same. There were religious pictures hung on the walls and at the front of the church there was a plain wooden cross hung high up. Also, there was a small buzz of chatter that filled the place and ahead of me more people with snowy or creamy skin; none of them dark like me and Tayla. The women dressed in dresses with overcoats and the men in suits with shiny black shoes that would probably blind you.

As I waited for the service to begin, a light tap was felt on my shoulder and I turned around to see the same man who had been stood at the entrance. He looked down at me and Tayla, a vein throbbing out on his neck as if it were to explode. “I apologize, but you two will have to stand up and go to the back,” he said calmly, a smug smile on his face. Was he being serious? I frowned, wondering if he really was being truthful. “We do not allow the . . . slaves to usually sit around this area.”

“Oh, yes, I forgot!” Mrs Wicker chortled after noticing the man’s presence. “I greatly apologize; the girls can go to the back.”

This is how I found myself at the back of the church, now instead feeling absolutely humiliated and lonely as I sat next to a little black boy who seemed anxious and an older girl who stared ahead at the wooden cross. I wanted to sob because I didn’t know what else to do.

Minutes passed by and another man at the front of the church stood onto a small platform. The sound of chatter slowly died down and everyone stood up in silence. He looked at us all, a triumphant smile on his face. “Welcome all! You may now be seated.”

Along with everyone I sat down, trying to make myself comfortable in the wooden seat for the next hour.

***

Mrs Wicker’s loud laughter filled the room as Mr Wicker smiled wanly at the guests. They both sat on the same sofa, though each at the far end. Mrs Wicker appeared off as energetic while he as uninterested and dry. She had lines at the side of her mouth when she grinned and his hands were placed firmly on his lap.

Mr Wicker sometimes made me wonder about him. Who in their right mind would marry such a dull man? And why did he spend all of his time in the library? With just a glance in his direction, I could sense how he would rather prefer to be there than here.

I leaned my back against the wall that stood behind me, also not fantasized at the jokes that were being told by one of the male guests. Though I was not the sort of person to laugh at most things, the man’s antics to me were boring. I was certain there were jokes more amusing that did not consist of a short sentence, or a brief conversation two people.

“Oh, Lou, bring for more cider this instant!” she ordered, clapping her hands together at a joke one of the guests had told. I had never thought that she could become so drunk in such little time! I moved from my spot in the corner of the living room and nodded once.

“Yes, and be quick with it!” one of the female guests added, gulping down the last of her drink from the glass and slamming it down onto the tray. She was also drunk. I did not respond and left the place as quickly as I could along with the tray of empty glasses, gently closing the door behind me. My footsteps were heavy with anger as I stomped into the kitchen, letting off my second growl today.

“Dat woman din’t own me one bit,” I mumbled to Tayla while I searched around for more cider.

“Yes, I think I find myself agreeing with you,” a very deep voice replied. A scream left my mouth in surprise and I turned around, a hand over my chest. The person who was also in the kitchen was not my sister. Instead Victor stood there, munching down happily on an apple. When did he get here? Where was Tayla?

“Y-yer frightenin’ me,” I gasped, taking a step back away from him. He swallowed down the bite he had just taking into his apple and took a step towards me. My breathing became ragged and I took a step back away from him.

“I am Victor,” he smiled, reaching his free hand out to me. I stared down at his hand for a few moments and then opted on politely shaking it with much avoided eye contact.

“I know dat yer are,” I replied knowingly. He chuckled quietly at my response. My eyes swivelled out to the garden where Tayla was pulling out weeds, or at the least trying to. “Why are yer ‘ere?”

He let out again another small chuckle and indicated to the half-eaten apple held in his hand. “I decided that my stomach would want for a little something before dinner. Breakfast today did not feel me up well.” The sound of laughter and chatter from the living room rose again, making me remember why I was in the kitchen in the first place. Self-consciously I blinked and then got to my task while trying hard to ignore Victor.

There was a feeling instead of me telling me that his eyes were staring into my back as I washed out the wine glasses with water. Once done with this, I brought out dry glasses from the glass cupboard above me and began to fill them full to the brim with cider. “Did yer want for anythin’ else?” Victor did not reply, and when I turned back around he was gone. “How odd,” I muttered to myself.

~

It's a start of a new month, yay! Well first of all I would just like to say that the reason I didn't upload earlier on was because I took a break of wattpad, had a bit of writer's block and instead of writing chapter 10 spent my time re-writing previous chapters of Slave Sisters, which I hope to have up soon. I'm not sure if I'll finish my story by September, as I've planned to, but I won't give up. I've got some really good things planned out for this story. :] What did you guys think of this chapter? Personally I don't think it's very impressing but, I would love to know your opinions! So, please remember to comment and vote if you like it so I know whether or not you like it or not. Thanks for reading!