LOGIN
I stepped into the cart as it pulled up beside me. The shackles on my feet were killing me and left purple swells on my ankles. I had had these shackles for as long as I could remember. Through all eight times I had been resold these shackles followed. There was one on my neck that had no chain, one on my hand connected by a chain, and one of the same kind on my feet as well. I had scars from their beatings and tortures, and my body ached from constantly working. I am used to it now though. The only thing I have that's my own, that brings me joy through my suffering is my Mother's golden, heart lock necklace. I've only known my mother for a short period of time. Shortly after I turned three the official came and took me and my Mother and sold us to pay the debt my father left when he died. I've been a slave ever since. Constantly working and constantly being sold. This is the eight time in my twenty years that I've been sold. I don't know