My hands were small and nimble so I could get ahold of that cotton. When the deep, red blood from cuts on my fingers would stain the pure white, the boss would beat me, or worse, dock my quota so the next day I’d have to pick more. I don’t remember my mama. I just know I lived with Lillian and Samuel here, and though they were young ones themselves, they took care of me like I was their own. One day, I saw Samuel beat for what reason I don’t know. The hate I felt for Master rose up in me bigger than ever and that night I told Lillian and Samuel that we had to run away. They didn’t hesitate. They said yes, right off. I was around twenty years old by then, Sam and Lill a few years more (though none of us knew our exact ages). They’d been lucky all these years, a brother and sister not sold apart. Also lucky that Master kept off of Lill—probably afraid of Sam, him being so big. But after that beating, we got word they were thinking of selling Sam down south, so we didn’t waste time.
