This was actually a school project, a five page paper, that turned into so much more.
New York, 1790
To be a slave is to not be respected. It is to be frightened at every waking hour, to have that horror haunt your dreams while you try to sleep your exhaustion away. It is to be betrayed by someone you thought you could trust. It is to be worked to your limit and beyond without rest. It is to be abused. It is to have your family wrenched from your arms, to have every person you love and care for disappear when you need them most. It is to have your skin torn open and your blood spilled without regret. To be a slave is to be a slave, not a human.
After three years of running, terror, and panicky situations I, Amanita, am no longer a slave.