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Remember Who's Boss

By Damiana Berrios

10/21/01

The echo of their footsteps was deafening. She tried not to breath too loud or else, she knew, they would find her. She turned sharply around a corner, and the chain attached to the shackle on her wrist slammed against the wall. She turned around and caught the chain before it alerted them even more.

"She's over here", a voice echoed. She heard the footsteps grow louder behind her, and in the darkness, of the hallway, her eyes grew wide. She scrambled ahead, trying to keep her breathing as quiet as possible. She turned another corner, and behind her, she could see the flashlight beam on the wall she just passed. She ran faster, her frail body trembling with fear and tears welling up in her soft brown eyes.

She mumbled to herself in a small voice easily drowned out by the pounding of the boots behind her, "I can't go back! I can't be caught! I won't go back! I can't go back!" With her eyes tightly shut, she could not see the large puddle up ahead, and the water splashed all around her as she slipped. A small cry came from within her bruised throat, and she quickly clamped her hand over her mouth. Scrambling to her feet, she tried to stand, but she slumped to the wet ground again. The thick shackle around her ankle had left a deep gash, and her foot bled openly. The flashlights flew over her.

"There she is!", one man said. She did not look back to them, her pride too strong to let them see the fear in her eyes. Instead, she just sat there, clutching her bleeding ankle and hiding her face underneath the waterfall of jet-black hair that fell around her face. She trembled as she heard their boots walking towards her. Just as she looked towards them, she felt a massive hand connect with the side of her face. "You bitch!" was all she heard as her head whipped to the side with the blow. She collapsed onto her elbows and spat blood onto the asphalt. She slowly wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and a second later she felt the guardís boot heave into her stomach. She grunted sharply with pain as the full force hit her. As she tried to regain the breath that was knocked out of her, she heard the other guard say, "Hey, man. That's enough. Don't kill her."

"Yeah, well she knows better than to break out of her cage. Now she'll remember who's boss" She could feel his hateful eyes on her, and she cringed. "C'mon man, let's just get her back."

"Yeah. But if she tries anymore shit like that:" Boom. Boom. She shrieked in terror, fearing the two bullets had found their target in her. Bitterly, she realized he only wanted to scare her. She bit her lip as the gunfire rang in her ears. She felt a gentle hand take hold of her wrist, and she recoiled immediately. Before either of them grabbed her again, she painfully climbed to her feet, using the nearby wall for support. Her knees faltered, and she almost fell, but the kinder guard caught her before she would find her place on the floor. With a mute pride, she accepted his help as the three made the silent trip back to the grounds.

As the guard shut and locked the barred door of her cage, he growled, "You try that again, an' you're gonna wish I did kill you back there." With a soft whimper, she collapsed against the far wall and buried her face against her knees. The cascade of black hair surrounded her thin body, hiding the torment and humiliation that remained on her face. She hoarsely whispered, "I would much rather die than live in this hell a day longer."

In her mind, she knew she could never kill herself, though the thought, and the opportunities, presented themselves at times. The faint memory of her mother appeared in her mind, and the consideration of suicide dissipated as she shuddered. The sight of the guards standing over her mother, bruised and bloody from the beating they gave her, played in her mind like a film put on a loop. She watched as they beat her, over and over again; she watched them laugh at her dying mother as they dragged her body out of the cage. Crying now, she hid her face once more, vowing again and again never to let them do the same thing to her. The sunlight's faint rays slowly filled the cage from a broken window, and fell upon her huddled figure. She slowly opened one eye, then the other, and raised her head into the light. She carefully looked around, and painfully remembered the other night, her throbbing ankle a harsh reminder. She felt the gash lightly, and cringed, finding it still horribly bruised. She caught a glint of light reflecting off the plate just outside the cage. She crawled towards it and inspected it carefully before even touching it, recalling in her mind the day she learned to examine what the guards give out before accepting it. That day, she hungrily devoured the plate of food, only to cough it up when she felt a sharp pain in her throat. Someone had stuck a razor blade in her food, she saw, as she held her throat gingerly and vomited the blood and tissue onto the floor of her cage. It was a harsh lesson to learn at the age of six, she remembered, and she inspected the plate now as carefully as she did every day after that horrid day. Finding nothing but the food, she pulled it in and cautiously picked at it as memories flooded her mind: 20 years. 20 years of being fed scraps for dinner and breakfast, of grueling mule work. 20 years of living in the same stench-ridden cage, of servantry and abuse. It had been 20 years since she was born, and 20 years of wishing to have never been born. Finishing the disgusting gruel that was her meal, she slinked back to her corner. "Soon," she thought, "soon I will get out of here. I will escape, and make them pay for what they did to my mother." She lay down slowly, resting her head on her arms and curling up into a ball. Sleep was the only relief from her living nightmare, and it did not come easy. But, before the lips of sleep could kiss her eyes and let her rest, a loud but familiar noise alerted her. The guard was opening her cage.

"All right, you. Come on out. Itís time to get to work," he greeted her nastily. She sat up and looked towards him, but not directly in the eye, never directly in the eye. She then looked to her ankle, red and swollen from her fall, and he followed her gaze. "Hmm," was all he said. He closed the cage door, not locking it, and went to his superior. He came back, his superior with him, and mumbled to him as the maneyed her. "Well, she can't do work." She smiled slightly when hearing this, hoping she will have rest from her daily routine. "But..." Her smile slowly slipped away. "...She doesn't need to walk to be a pleasure slave."

The man sneered, congratulating himself for such a good idea. She almost gasped aloud at the thought. Her weary eyes grew wide once more. Another memory quickly invaded her numbed mind. She saw her mother in their cage, kneeling at the feet of a guard, begging not to be whipped again. She herself had been in the corner of the cage, hidden under a small pile of clothes, her eye peeking through a small gap. The guard slapped her mother across the face; yelling at her, "Don't tell me what to do, bitch! Or I'll knock you so hard, your kid will feel it."

Her mother gasped. "Yeah, thatís right. I know you have a kid in here. I've seen you hidin' her." She pleaded for him not to tell anyone. He sneered at her. "Alright, bitch. Blow me, and I'll keep your secret.î She lowered her eyes to the ground, and she muttered that he would tell the others even if she did blow him. The guard snarled and smacked her again, knocking her to the floor. "If I'm gonna trust you puttin' your teeth anywhere near my dick, youíd better trust me to keep quiet." She sobbed slightly and lifted herself from the floor, and he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her knees. "Now are ya gonna, or are ya not?" She nodded her head slowly, and he undid his pants.

Her mother cried as she fulfilled his wish, and he shoved her to the back of the cage and walked out. Locking the cage, he sneered at her and asked, "How old is that kid, anyway?" She heard her mother say she was 3 years old. He smirked, readjusting his pants, and said, "Kinda young to be a slave, don't ya think?" She gasped as she watched him leave, realizing what he intended to do, and she cried.

The memory flashed through her mind, and she shook her head, her eyes pleading as they looked to the man and the guard. "When do you want her to start, sir?" the guard asked. The man inspected her, his eyes going over her body. "Clean her up, take care of that ankle, and send her to me. I'll see what she can do." The guard nodded, and he moved to her. She looked to him, her eyes fearful. He gestured for her to get up, and he held his hand out for support. She rose to her knees and slowly climbed to her feet with the guard's help. The man stepped out of the cage and left, and the guard took her to a room appearing to be a bathroom. He filled the tub with water as she sat on the toilet and undressed. "Alright," the guard grunted, "the tub's set. Get in there and scrub yourself." She watched the guard leave, and she sighed heavily, sitting herself in the tub. She washed her hair, then grabbed the soap and scrubbed her body clean, though she still felt dirty. Looking around the bathroom, she saw a wrench on the sink. After a few moments, she blinked, an idea striking her, and a smile crept across her lips. She stood, leaning on the tubís edge, and took hold of the wrench, grasping it firmly in her hand. She smiled again, and let the water drain out of the tub. Grabbing a nearby towel, she wrapped it around herself and sat on the toilet again. Her tender voice called to the guard, "Guard, I'm finished." She hid the wrench behind her back and watched the guard step in again. "Alright. The boss says Iím supposed to check out your ankle." His gaze fell to her wound, and he whistled, surprised. "Damn, that looks pretty bad." He walked to her and knelt at her feet, taking her injured ankle in hand. She grimaced, taking a sharp breath as the pain shot through her foot. She clenched her hand tightly around the wrench as she watched him look at it. She then took a breath, raising the wrench, and swiftly brought it down across the back of his head. The guard cried out, and he fell to the floor. She leaned over him and took the gun out of his holster. She then ripped a piece of cloth off his sleeve and tied it tightly around her ankle. She winced slightly, her ankle aching, but she relaxed as the pain slowly subdued. She stood, taking the gun, and quickly dressed. She glanced down at the guard and smiled, her eyes glinting with a look of satisfaction. She inspected the gun to make sure it was loaded. She then secured the wrench in the pocket of her shorts, stepped over his body and walked to the door. She opened the door slowly and peeked out. Seeing no one, she slipped out of the bathroom and walked down the hallway. She came to a corner, and peered around it. No one was around. She continued walking, looking to find any kind of exit. As she turned another corner, she bumped into another guard, and he started forward.

"Hey, bitch!" he said as he turned to face her. "Where are ya headed to?" He glared at her. "What the hell are ya doin' out of your cage?" She mumbled something inaudible, and he scowled. "What did you say? Speak up, slut." Realizing he did not see the gun, she hid it quickly in her back pocket, and she gestured him to move closer. The guard inched his head forward to hear her, and she grasped his shoulders and thrust her knee into his groin with such force, she lifted him slightly off the floor. She then grasped her wrench and slammed it across his face. She watched as he collapsed to the floor groaning, and she held onto the corner as she stood on her bad ankle and swung her foot into his gut. She quickly searched him for a weapon, and found a small switchblade. She sneered slightly, flicked the blade up, and sliced it across the guard's neck.

She wiped the switchblade on her shorts and jammed it into her pocket. She stopped, thinking of another idea, and she searched him again for some sort of key. Finding nothing, she growled. She knelt by his feet and pulled off the guard's boots, slipping them onto her bare feet and tying the laces tight. She then stood and dashed down the hallway. She smiled to herself, noticing that the years of backbreaking work made her stronger than she thought. She navigated through the maze of hallways and doors rather easily, knocking off a guard or two who got in her way. She thanked the years of servantry that forced her to learn to maneuver through the compound. A quick memory slipped into her thoughts. It was of one time when she walked through the corridors with a particularly nice guard. They had passed a door on their trip, and she asked about it. "Well," he replied, "that door leads to the underground tunnels of the sewers. Some guards like to toss dead slaves in there." She gasped, not believing people could be so cruel. The guard laughed, the shock of the 11 year old amusing. He egged her on, thinking it would do no harm. "If you ever try to escape, go through that door, and stay on the main tunnel. Don't go off through any other tunnels." She shook her head furiously, assuring him that she would never try to escape.

She came upon that door now, remembering the false encouragement of the guard, and she opened it and walked through. The stairway was black as night, and she carefully made her way down the stairs, holding onto the railings. When she reached the bottom, her eyes were adjusting to the darkness, and she saw that she stood in a large tunnel. She looked around and started forward, silently praying for guidance. As she walked, she kept her hand near the wall to feel her way through the darkness. After an hour of cautious walking, she squinted her eyes as a beam of light appeared ahead. At first glance, she thought it was sunlight, and she dashed forward, the sound of her boots echoing off the walls. She then stopped, hearing footsteps not her own, and she hears a rough voice call out.

"Who's there?" the voice yelled, alerted. She stayed close to the wall as she crept closer to the light. About five yards away, she saw a person step out of a side tunnel, holding a flashlight. He calls out again, "Anybody here?" Squinting to see the person, she noticed his style of dress, and saw he was a guard. She cursed under her breath and knelt, reaching for her gun. "Hmm, guess it was just some rat." the guard muttered, and swept the beam around the tunnel. She aimed the gun carefully, her heart racing, and she steadied her arm. Just as the beam was nearing her, she pulled the trigger, shooting the bullet into the guard's leg.

The guard fell, howling in pain, and the flashlight fell to the floor and rolled slightly, aiming the beam of light to the guard. Seeing the guard now, she saw he was the same guard who had slapped her and kicked her in the hallway the night before. She glared at him, her eyes filled with a passionate hatred as she took aim to his chest, clenching her jaw tightly. The guard lifted the flashlight and swung it around, looking for the person who shot him. The light waved over her quickly, blinding her for a moment, and he caught a glimpse of her. She steadied her arm, and was about to pull the trigger when the beam of light focused on her again.

"Who the fuck is that?" he called out, breathing heavily. She growled and pulled the trigger, shooting the floor near him. He yelled out, startled, and dropped the flashlight again. She rubbed her eyes, trying to see in the darkness, and she walked towards him. Just as he shakily took hold of the flashlight, she snatched it from his hand and pointed it at him, the light illuminating his retched face. She aimed the gun quickly and shot him in the arm, and he cried out again. She then pointed the flashlight to her own face and leered down to the guard. Slowly the fear dissipated from his face and was replaced with confusion. "What the fuck are you doing?" She sneered down at him, and aimed the gun steady to his head. His eyes grew wide with terror, and she slowly said, "I'm showing you who's boss." And with that, she pulled the trigger, propelling the bullet into the guard's head, killing him instantly.

She pointed the flashlight's beam to the guard's body, looking for anything of use, and she spotted his gun. She took it and inspected it slowly, wondering whether to take it. She then tossed it into the sewer water nearby and stepped over the guard. Aiming the flashlight ahead, she continued walking. After another hour or so, she saw a few beams of light. She placed her hand near her gun and walked toward it. When she reached it, she saw it was sunlight penetrating a manhole cover, and she smiled widely, her eyes brimming with tears. She wiped her eyes quickly and climbed the ladder to the manhole, and she shoved the cover off. She peeked her head through the hole, the sunlight shining on her head, and when her eyes slowly adjusted to the light, she saw she was in lonely road surrounded by a green field. She grinned happily and climbed through, then pushed the cover back in place. The sunlight embraced her, warming her body and refreshing her mind. She laughed softly, her eyes shining with joy. She had escaped the hell that had consumed her mother. She had broken free of the prison she had always known as her home. She slumped to the soft grass and began to cry with joy, with sorrow, and with mourning. She was one of the few who had tried to break out and succeeded, and she was happy. She wiped away her tears, shaking with overcome emotion, and she rose to her feet. She took her gun and switchblade, knelt at the manhole, and dropped them into the sewer. She held the wrench softly in her hand, and pushed it into her back pocket again; she was not dumb enough to leave herself without protection. Running a hand through her jet-black hair, she began walking down the road, and she smiled because she knew who was boss.

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