"What's are you doing in my room? I'll get my father to hang you at the gallows for this slavegirl! Get out now, that's an order!"
He looked about five. I was not going to stand for this.
"You have about as much right to order me about as your father did snatching me away from my family- none,"
"You will not talk like that to me... FATHER...."
I heard footsteps running along the corridor, "What's wrong son," he said.
"The girl, she came into my room and then started back chatting me!"
"Well I ordered her to clean this mess but what's exactly did she say?"
"I didn't say anything wrong I just told him he..."
"DID I SAY YOU COULD SPEAK SLAAF?"
"No I just..."
"WELL THEN DO NOT SPEAK," his voice echoed through the house like a gunshot, like the gunshot that killed my mother. I felt the words shoot straight through me. I felt his hand sharply across my bloodstained face.
"Emilé," a young Cross, about my age, scurried to the door. "Take the new one to the chamber and lock her up for a week with no food or water. Let's hope she settles in well to this house and learns her lesson."
She pulled me away from the room and dragged me towards a small door.
"Either you go down or I will push you down"
I peered down through the door and decided to take my chances with the ladder that ran about 7ft down. The door slammed behind me and I began to descend.
Days past by, my eyes flitting in the darkness. I found a rat on the 2nd day but I have had no food since then, not a hardship we never had much food at home anyway. I longed to see the sunlight though. To feel the warm rays on my skin again, spreading the glowing sensation around my body.
I missed the sunrise I could see over the old oak tree. I can't remember what it looked like, but I remember the feeling of warmth all over my body after the bitter cold of night.
I remember my mum, her smile, her laugh, her cold arm lying in a crimson pool.