Through Her Lives

Mary

Note from Author: This chapter includes a distressing scene that does have sexual acts in it. If any of this may make you feel uncomfortable skip over it please. As if you are under 18 and do not think your parents would agree with you reading such things. 

The slaves had become a large family, a family that Mary was left out of. It didn't bother her at all. She didn't need a family to get on with life. Hers had died when she was only young. It had taken her years of pain to block out her parents deaths. It had been cruel to let a child hear such happenings. Since then, she'd always been the odd one out. After moving out of the orphanage to the slave quarters of Major Thales and his wife it hadn't taken long after moving in for the slaves to start gossiping about her.

They would be standing by the boiler pots, scrubbing and washing clothes. Talking about how cold and scary her eyes were. Unlike any other persons they'd ever seen. She would stand outside the door, waiting until the topic dwindled down before walking in and pretending that she hadn't heard anything.

She sat on the ground, it was where she slept. There was a piece of cloth laid out, comfort was minimal for slaves. She had only one possession, a drawing of her mother and father before she was born. It was all she had been able to grab before she was chased through the house. Her parents had been good to her, they worked during the days for their master and they would come back to the slave quarters at night to play with her and give her food. She smiled slightly at the memories, never allowing herself to feel too much emotion towards them.

She was due to the kitchen to start dinner and getting up she glanced back once more at her spot, the cloth covering it and knew that the drawing under it would be safe. The kitchen was full of people, rushing to and from places. Major Thales was holding a dinner party. The finest of meats were being cooked while others cut and sliced away at vegetables and made dessert. Before she could take another step someone had taken her arm, the pain shot through it straight up to her shoulder causing her to gasp.

"Your hands are not clean, how are you supposed to prepare food with dirt under your nails? You will have no dinner tonight, and don't try and eat any of the leftovers. I will know." The governess looked into Mary's eyes. The first enemy Mary had made when she came to the plantation, which was another reason why none of the others would go near her.

She walked back to the quarters, the kitchen no longer an option. There were piles of garments the girls had left, not yet washed and shrugging she lighted the boiler, waiting for the water to start bubbling away. All night while the others cooked together, on one of the best nights for slaves, she scrubbed and washed. Sweat pouring off her face as she circled the wooden paddle using all the energy and force she could. It was hard work, nothing she had ever looked forward to but there was no choice. The time ticked slowly by as she listened to the voices of the party, clinking of glasses. The washing room grew darker though she wasn't going to light a gas lamp. It would show she was in there, doing work and she hated the feeling of everyone knowing where she was. She worked through the darkness, her hands started to blister against the wood of the paddle. People would joke that they were no longer the hands of a lady, what did they know? She thought quietly. The governess had uncountable beautiful garments, something many of the girls envied. They wore coarse clothes, always being patched together with odd bits and pieces but Mary didn't mind. After all they were durable and got the job done. At least she wasn't naked. Mary's mind had wandered off the job, typical of her and she splashed hot water on her hands accidentally as she sloshed the water. 

 She yelped in pain, falling backwards as her hands grew hotter and they started to throb and sting. Tears were in her eyes, the pain growing steadily. There was nothing that could be done. She had seen girls do the same before. They burnt their hands, the skin would blister and become infected and never look the same. She walked out of the compact room looking for a bucket of water.