Time did what time always does, it moved on. The murder of my family passed and I was seamlessly pressed into slavery. The leather collar which has become natural to me, was given to mark my new place in society. They broke me, they broke all of us. We walked barefoot on concrete roads through the summer, until we left behind footprints with our own blood. We were worked for hours during the heat of the day. The elderly and children were fortunate in their frailty, their weakness liberated them first.
The meaningless labor did not create suffering for me. The agony of back-breaking work helped to reinforce my existence. My suffering affirmed my being. When I ended my thoughts of freedom, a deluge of new ideas flooded my consciousness. I observed a wicked facet of humanity. What disturbed me, as a slave, was watching everyone else operate like nothing had happened. No one inquired of my background or family. I was not hidden. I was not relegated to a field where no one could see me. I was not held in a shack. I interacted with society, but had no more sentience then a sack of grain.
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