When I first see the shadow on the stairs, I think it Cecile. She's got a women's curves, an' hair that grows past 'er shoulders. But as the lady continues to descend down the stairs, her feet barely makin' no sound, I find that it ain't Cecile. She ain't allowed down 'ere and the woman's skin is as white as mine.
"Miss. Lizabeth," Mary cries, jumpin' up away from my hand an' runnin' toward our tutor that waits for 'er at the bottom of them stairs. Mary throws 'erself on the lady, huggin' her so tight that I worried Miss. Lizabeth won't be able to breathe. But even if she can't- she seem to be enjoin' Mary's arms 'round her.
"You alrigh'." Mary sighs, inta her shoulder. With the echoes of this basement, I hear 'er like she sittin' righ' next to me.
"Yeah," Miss. Lizabeth says jus' as quiet, "Mista Johnston should be down 'ere any second too."
Before I can stop myself I ask, "How them slaves? They alrigh' too?" Not fo' the first time, I glad that it so dark down 'ere. That way no one can see my face. An' no one can see how much of me is balanced on 'er answer.
"Yes, them alrigh'. I didn't got no chance to count 'em all, but if any were lost they were probably weak. Easily replaced."
"Good," daddy says, like her answer actually give us some relief. I hear anotha clap of thunder, an' I start to shake. Both Cecile an' Samuel ain't the strongest of our slaves, they both can be easily replaced. I feel faint, the room spinnin' in real slow circles. I dizzy, but outta the corner of my eye I still see Mary lead Miss. Lizabeth to the opposite corner of the room. They closer to daddy an' the Mistress than to me.
"I do hope that one who keeps tryin' to run was killed," The Mistress comments, her voice all thoughtful. Not like she talkin' 'bout someone dyin'. Not like she talkin' 'bout Samuel dyin'.
"I real tired," I suddenly say, to change the subject. But as soon as them words find my lips, I realize it actually true. I could use some rest.
"Why don't you sleep then? We'll be real quiet."
I don't respond, 'cause daddy don't need a response, an' lay my head on the hard ground. It ain't nearly comfortable, but I can easily pretend that it the dirt outside an' that I jus' sleepin' beneath my tree. When I close my eyes, I'm gone, whisked off inta another world where Cecile and Samuel sleep by my side. It one of the best dreams, 'till it turn inta a nightmare, the Mistress grabin' a kitchen knife and chasin' us down the road. I wake when she plunges the knife, inta Samuel's chest.
"Miss. Lizabeth," Mary cries, jumpin' up away from my hand an' runnin' toward our tutor that waits for 'er at the bottom of them stairs. Mary throws 'erself on the lady, huggin' her so tight that I worried Miss. Lizabeth won't be able to breathe. But even if she can't- she seem to be enjoin' Mary's arms 'round her.
"You alrigh'." Mary sighs, inta her shoulder. With the echoes of this basement, I hear 'er like she sittin' righ' next to me.
"Yeah," Miss. Lizabeth says jus' as quiet, "Mista Johnston should be down 'ere any second too."
Before I can stop myself I ask, "How them slaves? They alrigh' too?" Not fo' the first time, I glad that it so dark down 'ere. That way no one can see my face. An' no one can see how much of me is balanced on 'er answer.
"Yes, them alrigh'. I didn't got no chance to count 'em all, but if any were lost they were probably weak. Easily replaced."
"Good," daddy says, like her answer actually give us some relief. I hear anotha clap of thunder, an' I start to shake. Both Cecile an' Samuel ain't the strongest of our slaves, they both can be easily replaced. I feel faint, the room spinnin' in real slow circles. I dizzy, but outta the corner of my eye I still see Mary lead Miss. Lizabeth to the opposite corner of the room. They closer to daddy an' the Mistress than to me.
"I do hope that one who keeps tryin' to run was killed," The Mistress comments, her voice all thoughtful. Not like she talkin' 'bout someone dyin'. Not like she talkin' 'bout Samuel dyin'.
"I real tired," I suddenly say, to change the subject. But as soon as them words find my lips, I realize it actually true. I could use some rest.
"Why don't you sleep then? We'll be real quiet."
I don't respond, 'cause daddy don't need a response, an' lay my head on the hard ground. It ain't nearly comfortable, but I can easily pretend that it the dirt outside an' that I jus' sleepin' beneath my tree. When I close my eyes, I'm gone, whisked off inta another world where Cecile and Samuel sleep by my side. It one of the best dreams, 'till it turn inta a nightmare, the Mistress grabin' a kitchen knife and chasin' us down the road. I wake when she plunges the knife, inta Samuel's chest.
