It seemed like he felt it of total importance to make blood run on every slave of every month. He would whip the men, women, and children as if this was the only way to keep them working at full speed, when in actuality, it would slow them down. They would then receive more whippings for not working fast enough and falling behind. The grotesque smack of the thin piece of leather on the slaves" skin, the sight of a slave hanging with his hands bound to a hook on the wall after a whipping, the blood oozing slowly down his/her back to the floor below, and the sick laughter of the Master that always followed all made me cringe with hatred. You didn't dare make a sound as you were being whipped, either. For you would be whipped even more and harder for any noise you made. .
Working in the house was very difficult, also. The Master and Mistress were always aware of my presence and had direct contact with me on a daily basis. Any questions were to be answered only with a, "No, Master" or "Yes, Mistress," Or vice versa. I witnessed the prayers that were said daily, the delicious, warm food that was constantly in supply to them, and sometimes overheard gossiping between the Mistress and her lady friends. I would hear them talking about various slaves, certain religious points, or even the hideous Northerners who had free blacks roaming the streets. This is how I first learned of the possibilities of freedom.
The slave quarters were shelters at their worst. There were rows upon rows of shacks, with no heat, for the slaves to sleep in at night. Even in the cold winter all men, women, and children would have to lay on the floors, with barely any clothes or blankets, and try to get some sleep. Many could not survive in these harsh conditions, especially children. These children would become very ill and, after some beatings, they would be sent to me. .
There was one little boy, around the age of twelve, that was put in my care because he could no longer work.
