Mister Mason was the first born son of Lord Billings. He was now eighteen, and his sister, Lady Venus, was fourteen. There was also another little girl to the Lord and Lady, called Brea, who was now five, but I rarely see her.

Mister Mason seemed someone else when I wasn't around, he had more patience and seemed happy...Yet, whenever he was around me, he would sneer at me and become someone else. I did dislike that, even with my excuses, but what I disliked more, was his steward…The person that follows Mister Mason around and did his biddings, was someone that would kick me and hit me, yet show a strange expression on his face when we were alone. It scared me…I would always feel a cold shiver run through me at his look…

Lady Venus confused me, she would make me look like I was asking for help or something because she would be nicer to me in front of her friend, Vanessa...But, when her friend wasn't around, she would be a different person too and would normally break something, that I would be forced to take the punishment for. But, for so long, I never understood why they acted this way...Until I had done my own investigation and listened in on a secret conversation between Lord Billings and Lady Billings…

The reason why my mother died...What she had spoken of, when she wasn't supposed too...

…It was because, Mister Mason, Lady Venus, Brea and I shared the same father…

The Lord of the Billings residence…Was my biological father…

The hate and disgust in their eyes, and what I had found out, did not make any kind of sense to me. Shouldn’t we love each other? Aren’t we a family? So…Excuse after excuse came out, as I had tried to understand and not dislike them for the way that they had, and still are, treating me. But, it was just so hard to keep it up, as they kept hurting me and making things harder for me!

How could I continue to endure my own reflected pain, by not seeing things with my own eyes! I knew it! They hated me! They think I’m absolutely worthless and should not exist! So, that dim light of hope, of my father rescuing me, had gone out…I had lost any kind of faith I had in my father, not that it had been much to begin with, as I thought he must have died, but I did not think that my own Father was married to the woman who had killed my mother. I blame both of them very much!

It is not easy to show that I do not know of this secret, or that I don't care whenever I see them in my sight. I get so tensed up, that after they are gone I simply fall to the ground breathing heavily and trying not to cry. That night, I see it so often, so vividly, like it was only yesterday! My father had not stopped it from happening…My father…

The pain of seeing them uncaringly living on and continue to treat me badly, seems to hinder my thoughts often...Due to my anger, I am always glad to work away from the main household, even if it is work that is far too much for me to bear!

Apparently, my mother and father did something bad and I really shouldn’t be here...That, I was indeed a child of the Lord, and that was what became known to the Young Lady and Mister, from my own mother’s mouth. That I was indeed…Their sibling. That was it! Why did my mother die for this?

...I don't understand...

I was related to them by blood…So, they killed my mother and made me a slave, working me from sunup to sundown, calluses on my hands, scar on my face and beating me until I’m so weak that I can’t see my health getting any better! In fact…My health was declining…

If I knew that blood was the problem…Perhaps I should have killed myself, or ran away…

Was I really going to stay here to retrieve my mother’s items and continue to be treated this way?

I can only let out a weak laugh…Why fight it…I knew my body was unwell. Perhaps I am staying here to wait out my death…It’s at least once a week that I am either beaten, teased or put into a situation that I can barely handle…Was I staying to just endure that and let death take me? What was I doing!?

I wasn’t too sure…The only want that I had, since my mother’s passing, was that to find out why she had died…I knew that now and…They treat me terribly…Yet, now that want is gone…Was the new desire that I had…Was it to die?

It was hard to think, when I know I’m not supposed to. I didn't have the right to think as I was a slave, it wasn’t something I could do…I can’t act on my own accord, I must do as I’m told…But, it wasn’t like I voiced out my thoughts, as I never spoke…The never ending, dark vortex sucked me in and I didn’t know which way was out. I didn’t know what to do and I didn’t want to remember…But, I would always have nightmares, I would always be reminded of my scar, I would always try…So hard…Not to cry!

***

It was hard to grow up to understand when I wasn’t able to become smarter. The lessons I had received before my mother’s death, they had immediately stopped when I had become a slave. Even when I had attempted to add the lesson into my busy day, I was still unable to go. When I had tried, I was scolded and beaten…For ten hours, I had to kneel and be told about what a slave can and can not do…And one of those things was, a slave does not need to know how to read! Added on to that, slaves don’t need to learn how to play music! They never speak back! A slave is to be unseen, unheard and unspoken of! A slave is a nobody that works.

Slave…Slave…Slave!

I know my young mind asks a lot of why's, and it does irritate me...Because sometimes I get curious upon the answer. Just like, why doesn't a slave get paid? Are slaves made because they are taking another slave's place, like I had? Why must I do as I'm told, when I will get hurt? Why is it so important that we aren’t allowed to think and feel? Why is there such a difference when we are the same…We are all...People…

So, all in all, I don’t know what I was doing, but I did know that I was a slave, and I was told to do things and that I had to do them. And that seemed like a simple thing, as it didn’t make me want anything. Because, if you want something and know you can’t have it…Ever…Then what was the point in wasting time thinking about it?

Well, that is the point of my thoughts now...But it hadn't been beforehand. Even though I had gone mute, it didn't mean I didn't want things...But, my resolve to get something I wanted was easily diminished, due to how I would be treated like in return.

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In just a few short months, I was just too scared to want something. In fact, it was much easier to act like you're dead as a slave...If a slave shows any kind of life in their eyes and actions, it seemed to be something easy to find and something easily 'dealt' with. It was also something people used against us, as slaves…Because they would lure you in to do their dirty work for them, by saying they will give us what we want in return. I saw this personally with one of the middle-aged slaves and their ending was not good! Not only did I receive yet another look upon death, but I had also learnt the lesson that wanting something can also be a weakness that someone could use you for. It was indeed, a scary lesson to learn…

So...My eyes never showed interest, or I would work all night, or kneel all day.

I didn't show any kind of acceptance or good mood, because I would be singled out and threatened to be sold off. That wasn't the worst of it...One time I had lined up with two others that had either been naughty or being seen as someone that didn't ‘think like a slave' and an old man had come to take a female away...And she never came back.

I never understood what people had said, but apparently her 'life' was now that of the old man's and he will do whatever he pleased with her. When I sneaked a glance at the people who spoke of the old man, the two older girls shook their heads and both of them muttered that they will prefer to kill themselves if they ever be put into that position.

Why?

That man seemed to be well known, so why would the girls fear him buying them? Should I be worried too?

Nonetheless, I learnt my lesson, even though I didn't quite understand what the danger was...

Now that I have been in this position for about two years, I was able to think more clearly about things. What wasn't as clear, though, was when I had been ten, after the first few months of my mother's death...It was like my mind had gone elsewhere, because when I came back, knowing all these new things, I still felt like I hadn't been here all this time. I had taken everything in somehow, apparently...But while I felt like I was away, but still here...It seemed that it was to get my mother's body buried, instead of that of her lifeless corpse being tied to a tree in the middle of the bushlands…

When I had finally retrieved her body, so that I could bury her properly, I couldn’t eat for two days…

What had been ‘left’ had not been my mother…In fact, I am positive that the remains that I buried of my mother, was missing at least two limbs and much of the…Inside…

At least half of my mother was missing…

They had thrown her body into the forest and let the beasts scavenge for it...But...In my strange departure with the memories that are blurry, I had done whatever they told me to do, so that I could burry my mother properly instead...I don’t know why I was like that, but I think it was easier then now…Now I think ‘why’ a lot and…The pain inflicted is more. I think I was asleep somehow, and now…I’ve woken up…

…Having shed a deep amount of tears, at the new grave back then, and with yet another type of nightmare that I might not ever forget in this lifetime, it had woken me up and brought me back to life.

I really did wonder why I had been like that and why I was suddenly back to feeling more alive. Was it because…Was it because I couldn’t handle my life? Was that how I wanted to be?

Whatever my questions were, it didn’t matter. I was no longer able to go back to feeling numb, no matter how much I tried…

After those first few blurry months, I was still very innocent, as I had wanted to think the best of each situation...Even though I was crying rivers of tears inside...

It was like there were two of me...The one on the outside showed obedience, endurance and tolerance...Otherwise, the one on the inside was crawling up into a ball, unable to handle the situation.

The outside me tried to be the best slave I could be, doing whatever they asked, even if it was to eat dirt or do a dare that had me go into a dog pen! But...

Even wanting to make them happy and do whatever they asked me to do, got me into trouble too…So, I don’t want to make them happy anymore, I just do as I am told…

Now that time has passed, the inside me has started to grow. I felt myself start to open my eyes and really see what was going on around me. Yet, even if my eyes were opened now, it didn't stop them from continuing to treat me as a slave and telling me what to do!

So, even though I had decided not to do things because I thought it would make them happy, the orders and bullying didn’t stop…My thoughts were the only thing that had changed.

One time, I was given a letter to give to someone outside of the capital, but the person I was supposedly supposed to hand the letter to, did not even exist…And since I had done this in the afternoon, I was locked out of the capital, due to late hours, and then I was disciplined upon returning back to the residence the next day…

That night outside, had been long and cold, as I had nowhere to stay and no food and water…It hadn’t helped when the gates where once again opened the next morning, that I had lacked the energy to directly race back to the residence…It took me three times as long to return and I am sure that had made things even worse…

I guess…These kinds of things helped me become more weaker…As I can’t…Get any stronger while I’m continuously hungry, working and hurt. And, if things continued like this, as I tried to hide my limp on the way to the stable, then I may not make it another couple of months…

Strangely, that time limit gave me a sense of relief. To a certain degree, maybe it was the only want I had now, to just continue and wait out my life like this…

Some other questions that had filled me, like, why was it wrong, that my mother had said the truth? Why was I born, when obviously I was not supposed to be? Why…Why do they treat me like this, even though I knew they obviously hated me, but why did they hate me? Had I done something unintentionally bad to them, without me knowing?

I don’t think I’ve answered many of my questions, as I had not asked anybody, and I have not found an answer on my own.

No, if I speak, would I get into more trouble? Mmm, perhaps I should speak then, then maybe my demise would come earlier. Then, wouldn’t my pain and suffering stop?

But, even though I thought this, I couldn’t help but remember my mother and the pain inflicted to her because she had done this type of thing…Giving me the idea that if I spoke…The agony I would have to suffer through would be a lot…A lot more then what I would suffer through if I didn’t speak at all…Just the thought of going through what my mother had…

No…

Seeing what happened to her again and again, even now two years later…I hardly had any courage at all, yet alone courage to speak!

I didn’t see me speaking in any time in the close future, which meant that I already knew that for the rest of my life…There was most likely never going to be another word spoken from me. I…Will most likely die a mute. Die with this twisted vortex knotted inside my tummy, making me feel that death would not only be a release, but also something that felt unfulfilling…

All I could do is sigh and think that if I don’t speak, then there was no way a secret was not going to get released…

Lady Billings words still came to mind very vividly…

I must never forget them!

That’s right, I may not be learning anymore, but I knew the basics! And as I lived each day, I feel and see that people really believed that I had become mute and perhaps even deaf…Which led me to learn quite a number of secrets…

I knew that one of the slave girls had been selling herself to one of the men that worked here. She had been planning to run away when she had enough money!

I also knew that Mister Mason, my half brother, was seeing a woman secretly outside of the residence. I see him leave the estate and even pick a flower before he quickly disappears. Upon his return once, I saw him caressing a piece of small jade that hung around his neck. It has been in the last month, that the mention of his future marriage has come up and I was sure that the Mister had but forth a name and that name was the woman he had already been with all this time. I had seen her once, walking past the residence one fine day. It wasn’t like people didn’t walk past the residence, as we were in the capital, but she did walk slowly and looked around a few times but didn’t dare to stop walking…

I may know of this secret, yet how is it to help me?

Other secrets are that the Lord cries sometimes, and that Lady Billings consistently wanted something to talk about, like that of other wives and their children or what to wear to an event...I also found that the estate was not as rich as I once thought, and that the family was not as well-known as I thought as well…So many things, only because I shut my mouth, and through that, it seemed to have opened my ears and eyes more.

So many secrets of no help to me…Yet, this was my world…The Billings residence…