TELL ME THE TRUTH

Chapter Two

 Tell Me The Truth - Chapter Two 

Evangeline Benoit - February 1744

I quickly stood from the straw pile that was meant to be my bed. It was time for the selection, as we were told. It was cold and I was shivering in my thin cotton dress and bare feet. I'd been in this place for a while now but I hadn't been allowed anything warmer.

I heard the bolt to the long room slide open; shortly thereafter the door swung inward. A line of men - all with cold, hard glares - entered the room. The man in front, Pierre LaRue, smiled evilly at all the girls in the room, including me. "Alright, slaves, time for you to meet your masters." He put heavy emphasis on slaves and masters.

We were all chained to the wall so we couldn't attack our 'masters.' The men lined up against the wall and Pierre stepped in front of a girl, telling all of the information on each of us in both French and English.

Eventually, he made it to me.

"Alright, gentlemen. This here is Evangeline Benoit. She's fifteen years old. She can read and write French and she can speak a little English - not much, mind you. She's a virgin - I bet you boys like that - and she's a cursed good cook. Her only drawbacks - she doesn't speak much and she's a witch." He said the last part with disgust heavy on his voice.

And I was insulted. Yes, I practiced spells and the like but that did not make me a witch. It was part of my religion. My grand-pére said it was called voodoo in some places.

Fear weighed heavy on my soul as each of the men walked down and stood in front of each one of us. Touching our skin, playing with our hair, whispering in our ears. One man, in particular, scared me more than the others. He was tall with dark hair and eyes and an evil gleam in his eyes. He ran his hand from my face all the way down my chest before leaning in and whispering in my ear. Although I couldn't understand his words, his tone of voice and the look in his eyes was enough to terrify me. I glared at him as best I could, knowing that it was no use. I wasn't really sure how the men chose their 'slaves' but I just hoped he wouldn't get me. He didn't seem too interested in being nice. I had a feeling that he would cause me great pain. He smirked at me before moving on and I nearly collapsed from fright. I couldn't go to him. That would be torturous. I just knew that he would hurt me worse than any of the others.

Eventually, after what felt like hours, all the men had left and us slaves were alone again.

"What is going to happen?" I heard one girl ask.

"They're going to have an auction, little one." An older woman answered. "We shall be sold to whoever pays the most."

I lay down and, in my mind, detailed my encounter with the men. If I wasn't in this place, I would write in my journal, but I didn't have it. So, I would think the words in my head as if I were writing in a journal. It helped a little. I wished that I could speak with a houngan or a mambo, but that wasn't possible. I wondered briefly if any of the other slaves were mambos. I only had to ask.

But I didn't.

I just couldn't make myself ask. I was too frightened.

I spent two silent days worrying for my future. It was on the third day that Pierre came back. Apparently, the auction was over and all debts were paid. He stood in the center of the long room and spoke. "Amandine, Evangeline. You will go to Jean-Paul Riviére. Andrea, Marie: you will go to Antony Carsus..." His voice droned on and on as he listed who would go where and with whom. Once he'd listed all of the girls, he said, "You will leave in three days time, slaves."

As soon as he left, I collapsed onto the straw pile and cried. Jean-Paul Riviére was the man who had scared me so badly. Something in the very depths of my soul whispered that he would only cause me pain. I knew that my life had truly ended. I didn't think it could've been more final even if my heart ceased beating.

When our meager meal of bread crust and thin, watery soup was brought, I ignored it. I left it on the dirt floor, untouched. I didn't move from my straw pile. I just wanted to die.

I did the same thing for two whole days, never eating so much as a morsel of bread crust or soup.

"Evangeline," someone called out in the darkness. She had a voice like warm, smooth honey. It was soothing. "Why have you not eaten?"

"I just want to die," I whispered, my words coming in short, halting bursts.

"You will not die in time, little one."

"I do not care."

I heard the clanging of chains and a muttered curse. "Evangeline, you have great things ahead of you. By ending your life now, you will extinguish the spark within you that will one day grow into a flame of hope. You are to become a great mambo among other things, and you are to give life to a body of hope."

My curiosity was peaked. Grandmére had always told me that my curiosity would be my downfall, and she was probably right. Even just a little bit of cryptic information, like what the other woman had given me, could have me asking many questions and possibly getting myself into trouble. In my childhood, I'd gotten into lots of trouble because of my curious nature.

Grandpére was always amused by it, but Grandmére spent her time trying to rein it in, so I would not pay for it later.

"What do you mean?" I questioned weakly.

"Exactly what I said, little one. Your future is not clear, but it is set. This cannot kill you, Evangeline Benoit, because your future is already set."

"Who are you?"

I could sense that she was smiling in the darkness. "My name is Amandine Gasón."