A Slave for You

Chapter 1

A/n: Since future Nikkie is tired of the comments on why I changed Mitch's middle name, I'm telling everyone that I changed it for a reason. This is a very bible and god referencing story. Therefor, 'Adam' being Mitch's middle name. It is the same in 'I Hate You'. Bible references. I know his real full name. Can you please stop commenting about it?

I remember the first time I was sold on to a work farm. I had been taken away from my mother not long after the death of my father at the age of six. I even remembered how she cried and told me I was going to be on a very long trip. I use to be scared of the sound of a whip or the other men that were around me. I had cried every night at the thought of my dear mother being left alone.

Then year after year, farm after farm, I grew numb to the things around me. Daily beatings didn't hurt as much as they use to. Instead of mourning the death of my fellow slaves, I was working on as if nothing happened. This was normal. My fingers bleeding until I couldn't use them. My ankles getting cut as I walked through the different fields. Cotton, corn, apples, oranges. Whatever is needed to be picked is picked by the poor.

Years ago my mom told me that people were equal. All until the poor were crowding the streets. So they sent you to work. Involuntary work. The rich dominated the poor. The middle class dominated the poor. Let's just say if you were poor, you were fucked. Most kids were sold by their parents. Spouses even sold each other out. Once the money was gone, you were gone. Two thousand sixty one. What a wonderful year.

I was currently sitting in a slave cart with others, trying to massage the painful calluses out of my palm. I was being moved....again. This would be the forty sixth camp that I've been to. And these were one of the worst camps. A cotton camp. My ankles had just healed all the way. I pulled at my ratty shirt. I was disgusting right now. But I was being sent to an auction. They would clean me up to try and get me to sell.

"Get in there." I was grabbed out of the cart and shoved into a room. I flinched away from the girls that were suppose to clean me up.

"Are you going to cooperate?" One of them spoke up cautiously. I chose not to answer. "What's your name?" I ignored her again. The two girls looked at each other. The brunette was the one trying to talk to me. They pulled off my shirt.

"This one isn't much a talker." The blonde commented.

"Well I don't blame him. I wouldn't survive a day in their shoes." I smacked their hands away when they went towards my pants. I know they were just doing their job but I can unclothe myself. I glanced at the already filled tub to signal for them to leave. They took the hint. After I knew they were gone, I took of the rest of my clothes and stepped into the warm water. It felt amazing. I ran the bathing cloth on the back of my neck.

"Oh freedom, oh freedom." I sang quietly. I didn't want anyone listening in. "Oh Freedom over me. And before I'll be a slave, I'll be buried in my grave." I remember the old man who had taught me that. He had been so kind to me.

"You have a lovely voice." The unknown person spoke from behind me. I grabbed the sides of the tub in panic. Every part of my body was tensed. I was naked and alone with a man I couldn't see. "I'm sorry to intrude but I heard your voice and I want to see what angel embodied it." I heard them take a step closer. My knuckles were turning white from gripping the white porcelain tub.

"Um.." That's all I could get out in my panic.

"Are you a slave?" My voice was officially gone because the person came closer. I brought my knees to my chest and buried my hand in my arms so they couldn't see my face.

"Mr. Hoying. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave." I could feel his eyes on me for a little while longer before he walked back towards the door. I looked up to find the brunette with neatly folded clothes in her hands. "There you go. I'll leave you to get dressed." She walked away to give me my privacy.