The slaves of Freetown

CHAPTER EIGHT

Silently, we reach the door of the apartment. The same passages that I walked down earlier take on a new lugubrious appearance. I gasp behind Ho-Jin. He takes my wrist, and Karen pinches my hand before Isaac can intervene. I do not know why I expected, for a few moments, that he would ring the bell and that Mr. Salvi would come to welcome us. Moreover, to roughly offer us a few snacks before getting to the heart of the matter. Instead, Isaac leans on the door and simply pushes the handle.

At the same moment, a noise behind us makes me shiver. A latch is unhooked, and the creak of the door that opens. Karen sticks her nails in my hand, pushing me forward, while Ho-Jin's elbow comes to pierce my back. I stifle a cry, placing my hand over my mouth, and coming to crash on Rachel. Isaac finishes opening the door completely, lets us fall at his feet, and closes on Karen's ankle. She screams.

For what seems like long hours, we stay perfectly still, listening to footsteps that creak the hallway floor. Besides, heavy steps that came closer stopped and then moved away. I help Karen get up. She takes a step and falls with all her weight on me. It is dark, and I am trying to spot the silhouettes of Isaac, Rachel, and Ho-Jin, in what I believe to be the kitchen.

"He's completely sick!" Karen complains.

"It was an accident, Karen," I whisper.

"He saw me, Kanoa. I know he saw me."

"Shut up!"

Isaac's voice reaches us from a little further away, but it is already too late. The light suddenly invades the room. Ho-Jim is standing on our left, near the heater. Rachel is right in front of us. We question each other with suspicious gazes, to guess who turned on the light. Then, I notice the plump figure that Isaac vaguely hides. Mistress Salvi stands in the doorway that leads towards the bedroom. Time seems to have stopped.

As if in suspension, the drops which slide in the hollow of my back deviate from my skin, raising my hair... I cannot think of anything, strictly nothing, except my little Imane. A vague memory of us playing hide-and-seek and the strangely pleasant chills that accompany the fact of being discovered. Then, it is the flight, the race to be the first to join the rallying point, somewhere between the orphanage and the beginning of the dump. Nonetheless, this time, there is no possible escape; there is no way out.

Mistress Salvi is about to yell the words that would doom us to a fatal, tragic fate when without hesitation, Isaac's hands come to cover her face. They both fall back and roll at the feet of the dresser supporting the television. Rachel goes to help her husband to immobilize Mistress Salvi permanently. Waving her head in all directions, she finally meets my gaze. I cannot bear the tears that rise to Mistress Salvi's eyes; I back up, dragging Karen in my fall. Ho-Jin remains petrified, both hands covering his mouth.

"Stop making so many noises and come help us," Rachel murmurs in our direction.

None of us dares to move. We watch as Mistress Salvi struggles, exhausted, her hair loose, and tears bathing her face. I only look away when, supplicating, she twists her eyes in my direction. After repeating her request several times and noticing our inaction, Rachel eventually gets up and walks to the bedroom. She returns a few moments later with a piece of cloth that she hands to Isaac. She then goes to get a rag in the kitchen. Synchronizing with Isaac, she slips it into Mistress Salvi's mouth, leaving only the time for a small cry to reach us.

"Stop," Ho-Jin protests timidly. "Stop it. Stop it!"

"There, a little more, and we'll be able to sit her down," Rachel ignores.

Isaac gets up, pulls a chair, and Rachel pushes Mistress Salvi on it. It is as if I am living the scene without being really present. My body is numb; I cannot move it.

"Well, we can start," Isaac says, distinctly.

I exchange a look with Ho-Jin, while we note the same impression of enjoyment in Isaac's words. Karen cannot contain a horrifying smirk as she discovers Rachel's smile.

"Get up now. Get up, Kanoa," Isaac orders. "Come this way. Ho-Jin, come on. You too, Karen."

He speaks in the same tone as the Master who hit me the same evening. Threatening, he points to the space near him. Hesitantly, Ho-Jin waits for me to stand up, to support Karen with his shoulder, both trailing behind me. From that moment, I have no other choice but to face the gaze of the one who was, a few hours ago, my former tormentor. Her pupils pierce me, and I step back; however, Isaac holds me by the collar of the jacket.

"I want you to look into her eyes."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Why am I doing what? Why am I avenging us? From everything that people like her do to us?"

His hand tightens around my neck, and he points out the contours of my eye.

"Do you really think that's what you deserve? What you're worth? She believes that you're nothing, that we're nothing. Ho-Jin, it's because of people like her that you'll never see your parents again. They will never know about your dream, the one where you become a dancer, because she also took it from you. Karen, you'll never fulfill your wish of becoming a doctor... because of her. The promises of enfranchisement are unimportant. They'll always treat us differently. It's all lies, and you know it. You are clever. That's why you want to leave."

My foggy mind resumes its functions, and very quickly, a thousand thoughts jostle in my head. The one that crushes, dominates all the other, uncontrollably, shouts that Isaac is not right doing what he is doing, but... his words are not completely false.

"She's the one who's sick," Rachel adds. "We're only suffering the symptoms of the made-up disease that those of her kind impose on us. They're the ones who feed, who fuel our anger, who drive us to act, to flee. It's her fault if we're here. We can blame it on "the society," but people like her build and represent it. We aren't even part of it; they put us out in dirty Freetowns. Those of her upper-race elect the politicians who martyr us."

I cannot... I cannot help it; my head is flooded with the words: "They are right."

Loosely, cowardly, I abandon all the moral ramparts, all my remorse, to rely entirely on their words, and trusting myself completely to their hatred. I am no longer afraid. I am not really worried anymore; I am aware of how my ideas are pushing me.

"She took... she took everything from me," Ho-Jin says, tears running down his cheeks. "She had no right! Why doesn't she want us to be equal? Why is she seeking our anger?"

"I don't know, but maybe, it's necessary to make her feel the pain we undergo daily. It might help her understand... what do you think, Karen?" Rachel answers.

She nods, her eyes so dark, filled with hostility, fixed on Mistress Salvi. She calms down, listening to us attentively, then sobs again, helpless and desperate. She looks at us, one by one. She looks at me longer than the others. My new thoughts stand firm. I want to be impenetrable. Nevertheless, I know, in the very depths of my being, that her look will never leave me.