MULATTO (Iyila) (Editing)

chapter four ~ Dedicated to my sweet father

MOVING TO THE JOHN'S MANSION

It was three hours after Amanda shot Amos and killed herself. Everything seemed almost perfect as if nothing had actually happened. But not for the sober slaves and mostly for Iyila.

"All of you, move into the wagons, hurry, hurry!" one of the slave masters that held a whip yelled at the sober slaves. They quickly obliged.

"Don't waste my time, hurry!" the man yelled again.

Mellisa watched from a distance as the slaves rushed into the untypical wagons. They were long and big, perhaps customized to fit in more slaves. She frowned when she saw one of the slave masters quickly walking towards her.

"What a weather," he murmured wiping his sweaty forehead with a dirty white handkerchief.

"Unusually hot," Mellisa replied, nodding her head.

"How many are there?" he asked as he took a position beside her.

"Fifty," she blatantly replied, cautiously avoiding his eyes. He sighed and massaged his uncovered head.

"I'm sorry about your brother's shoulder." he gruffly said after a minute of silence. She offered a weak smile and nodded.

"He was pretty damned lucky," the man added.

"Indeed," she replied turning her gaze to Amanda's dead body that was carelessly dumped near the house.

"I saw the look in her eyes after she shot him. Her sole aim was to kill him, Collins," she added staring at the man.

"Not that I blame her, after all your brother broke her heart," the man replied with a chuckle.

She frowned. "She is a slave Collins," she angrily replied.

"Don't mind me, I was only joking," the man added, coughing as he spoke. He quickly dipped his hand into his trouser pocket and brought out a cigar box. He quickly opened it and took out a cigarette and lit it. He smiled with relief as he watched the smoke rise into the air before it quietly vanished.

"Better," he murmured and laughed. "Some slaves can be very dangerous, that is why we break their will at the John's Mansion. We make certain that they do not have the least courage to fight back," he said and threw down his cigarette.

"We crush them," he said and crushed the cigarette with his boot, until the light died out. "Just like this cigarette," he added staring at her. She smiled and returned her gaze to the slaves.

"Now tell me Miss Macaulay, is there any amongst your slaves who is very rebellious?" he asked lighting another cigarette.

Iyila her mind quickly supplied. But for the same feeling that had compelled her to save Iyila the day her brother almost killed her, the very same feeling that made her plead for Iyila's life when her brother decided to throw away her body when she didn't recover after being in complete coma for two whole days, she quickly objected.

Though she was yet to define the whole concept of this feeling, she could not tell if it was pity, admiration, or liking. Whatever it was it was, it was definitely strong and it filled her with the a certain responsibility, a severe urge, to protect the slave. She knew the consequences of recommending Iyila for stubbornness and she couldn't risk it.

She sighed. "Fortunately none," she said and faked a smile. He nodded and turned to the slaves. He knew she was lying but he couldn't be bothered because he knew he was going to find out sooner or later.

"Get up, now!" one slave master yelled at a girl sitting on the ground. Mellisa gasped in fear when she recognised who the girl was. "Iyila." she fearfully said under her breath. "Oh no," she whispered.