Master William always promised me he would find me if I ever left him, and I wholly believed he would because he would be quicker than me, he had money, and he had transportation. He’d hunt me down and execute me for escaping, and I totally believed he would follow through with his threats.
I only knew I was in Louisiana, somewhere, because I had overheard my mistress and Master William talking one day. I held onto that valuable information, even though it did me no favors.
I was too young to understand what a Louisiana was. It wasn’t until I had been able to use the computer, looked at a world map, and studied the vast planet that was laid flat before me that I understood what it was. He had no idea I even knew the state I lived in, so he wasn’t worried about me seeing a world map.
He wanted to show me how big the world was, how small and insignificant I was in relation to it, but I knew this one piece of information, which I kept tightly packaged up in one of the boxes in my mind.
I live in Louisiana.
I shake off the memories and seal them back down in their boxes again as I keep walking. The skies have opened up and rain has built from a slow patter into an angry downpour. It’s dark and cold now; I’m shivering and drenched through to my skin. The jacket is too big on me, leaving room for the heavy bloated drops to run down my back.
I can handle rain.
I remind myself, none of this is going to happen again.
It will never happen again.
I was out here walking in the dark, and I only had a pillowcase stuffed inside a stolen jacket and nothing of worth to my name. I am officially a nomad.
I was purely moving, hoping on a wing and a prayer that my path would be crossed by someone kind. Miracles happened in movies, so why couldn’t one happen to me? I can’t think about what I had left behind dead on the floor, the bad memories. I can only walk, take this adventure, and see what will happen. I’m now free, and that’s all that matters. Life could not be so cruel to me twice.
Could it?
But I keep right on marching. I have not seen another soul on this dirt road. All there is to keep me company is the sound of rain falling. My feet are getting muddy and soaked through, but I keep on going, huddled inside the jacket.
After what felt like well over an hour, I think I can see a light flickering in the distance. I squint through the harsh rain that’s caking my eyelashes and hope to find shelter for the night.
Then a thought occurs to me and I let out a mad little laugh. I just remembered I turned twenty-one years old today.
Happy birthday to me.
I growl in masculine appreciation as I watch Drill and Cyn. He has her coming for him all over his face. He’s got his mouth latched onto her pussy and isn’t letting go, and that beard of his is doing its thing. She’s writhing all over his face while sucking his cock fiercely in a classic 69 position, and I can’t stand around just watching anymore.
We won’t be going anywhere tonight because it’s all about carnal, lustful gratification.
And I aim to please.
The rain has not ceased its downpour for the past hour, and I was just waitin’ on what was gonna be crossin’ my path this cold, rainy evenin’.
And then it happens.
A knock comes at my door. It’s a quiet, scared knock.
Whoever be waitin’ on me on the other side of this door on my front porch needs my help. I pull myself up out of my comfortable old chair, layin’ my crochet down and tightenin’ my shawl around my old shoulders as I make my way over to it.
I am not afraid, but I can smell the fear this person be feelin’. This person don’t know if I be friend or foe, but dem legs of theirs brought dem to me. They knew Miss Catherine was good.
I turn the key in the lock and tug on my worn, old, brass doorknob. The door swings open with a tired old sigh and there she be, shiverin’ and shakin’, soaked to dem bones, and she is such a skinny mullet, barely an adult.
Sad, wary eyes are lookin’ back at me while dem teeth of hers are chatterin’, and her body is rattlin’ from the rain and cold night air. I don’t doubt if she had anybody else to turn to this evenin’, she would have. This child is all alone and she be knowin’ it, and she be takin’ a chance on me.
I don’t be takin’ this lightly. I once had to put a little faith in a stranger to help me out, too.
“Mais, child, you look like you be needin’ shelter for the night. Have you been travelin’ alone by foot on this cold, wet night?”
She nods her head at me while she be assessin’ me. I can see she is poised to run if she be fearin’ who opened the door to her.
“You certainly don’t be lookin’ like you are from around these parts. I lived here long enough to be knowin’ that.” I give her a little longer to judge me. “Come on in out of the weather, if you be choosin’ to take a chance on me, and tell Miss Catherine all about your troubles.” I hold my old arm out wide, givin’ her the choice.
“There be no one else here but me, and you need not be fearin’ an old lady. Dem legs brought you here because they knew to bring you to safety.” She watches me for a moment longer, still judgin’ me, and I can see when she be makin’ the decision to grab hold of the wrinkly old hand I have held out in front of her, the bones all twisted up on my fingers from painful arthritis. A strong wind could be blowin’ me over like a tumbleweed. I’m no physical threat, and she knows she gots nobody else to hear her words but Miss Catherine on this dark night, nobody else to bring her in out of the cold, unless she continues walkin’ the night.
“S-s-sorry to tr-trouble y-you.” The child is a quiverin’ mess as I gently pull her over my threshold. I can see her wrapped hands, but I pay dem no mind. There be time enough after to be assessin’ the damage.
“Hush now, child. Miss Catherine will get you warm, then we be talkin’. You be makin’ no sense shakin’ and drippin’ puddles on my floors, and you can be takin’ dem mud-ruined shoes off where you be standin’, so I can clean dem up for you later on.
I usher her over to the warmth of the fire in her sodden socks and slide another log on for good measure. “You best be takin’ those wet clothes off so your body can be warmin’ up quicker. Your lips be goin’ blue and I can feel you is ice cold.”
She looks around my livin’ area, searchin’ for a man. “It’s just you and me in my blessed home. I be livin’ alone here; no man has ever lived under my roof. All I gots for conversation this evenin’ is you.” I give her a gentle smile. “Here, child, let me be helpin’ you with dem clothes. They be stuck to you like a second skin, and dem hands of yours look like they be hurtin’.” There is no way she should be usin’ her hands until I can get an eye over dem.
I wait for her to give me a sign that she be willin’ to accept my help, and then I make sure not to keep my eyes too long in one place on her body as I help her peel the layers away.
She does not fear me seein’ her naked, and that concerns me—she’s not bashful around a stranger. I’ll put it down to bein’ soakin’ wet and needin’ to be comfortable. I don’t bat an eyelid when she turns her back on me and I see the scarrin’ on her lower back before I can cover her bony body up from my pryin’ eyes. The blanket is one of my finest. It’s warm and thick, swallowing up her too thin frame so she can be afforded some privacy to take off her undergarments, while I hang her wet clothes up by the fire to dry.