Punished (19 page)

Louis slapped my hand. “Gentle, you can’t go around breaking stalks. Do you know what the punishment for that is?” He pushed me to next branch and quickly scanned the area for the disgusting slave driver. Thankfully, he was nowhere in sight, and my little mess wouldn’t get me in trouble.

The sun beat down on me mercilessly, as I attempted to be super delicate while grabbing as much cotton as possible. I was still convinced that the entire thing was a warped nightmare and my eyes would open at any second.

To my horror, my eyes didn’t open and the next eighteen hours were spent picking cotton. They dragged on and on in a surreal and ceaseless rhythm. I managed to fill the sack that hung around my neck and for a minute thought that the day was over. To my disappointment, I saw that the sack had to be emptied into the oak basket and had to be refilled again and again until we were given permission to stop.

My hands were raw and sore. My feet ached in excruciating agony, and I was thirsty as hell. I was ready to take the strap right off the bag, and make a noose out of it. I didn’t because I had nowhere to actually hang myself.

For a split second, I thought of Lucus and felt a surge of inexplicable rage and deep fury. Logically, I knew that it wasn’t Lucus’ fault that slavery had been invented or that his father chose to own a plantation, but for the first time, I could see why Louis was so incredibly angry at him. If I was so bitter after a few hours, I could only imagine the indignation, frustration and anger a lifetime of this existence could cause a person.

The thing I didn’t get was if Louis was so furious at Lucus why didn’t he make his life a living nightmare? Why was I being tossed into the middle of everything?

As I plucked cotton off those endless stalks, I felt humiliation and utter hopelessness wash over me. The ugly ginger slave driver walked the fields with a superior grin on his nasty pug-like face. As much as I wanted to kick him and tell him off, I knew that it wouldn’t get me very far. I had to stay cool and survive this ordeal. Why present day Louis wanted me to suffer the same fate he had? I had no clue, but I did know that there was no way I would let him keep me here forever. I refused to be a prisoner to anyone or anything.

By the end, of the day my fingers were numb, my back was sore, and my feet were raw. Louis eyed my basket, and I noticed that the vein in his forehead throbbed.

“You don’t have nearly enough,” he said. Quickly, he took handfuls of cotton out of his basket and shoved them into mine.

I tugged on my greasy hair and stood there confused. “What’s the difference?” I stupidly asked.

“The difference is your body,” he said like it was the obvious answer.

 
I had no idea what he meant, but my head hung in despair as I carried my basket to the something called the gin-house. An eerie silence filled the air as each slave made their way to the house. Their heads hung low as mine, and I could almost taste the fear that seeped through their pores.

I nudged Louis. “Why is everyone so quiet?” It was a silly question considering that the whole day had been filled with a deafening silence. Although grand-mere had taught me that slaves often sang coded songs in the fields, they only did so when the slave driver wasn’t around.

Louis tossed me a quizzical look. “Time to weigh the cotton.”

I had to remind myself that this Louis had no idea that I wasn’t actually a slave. As far as he knew, I was accustomed to this life, so the fact that I was asking all of these questions was a little strange. I realized that I was only drawing attention to myself, so I shut-up and followed the rest of the group into the cramped wooden cabin where the cotton was going to be weighed.

There were three men in the cabin. The nasty slave-driver and two blond men. All three were equal in height and beefy stature. In addition, all three wore the same patronizing smirk on their faces. Their eyes were narrow, and their cruel lips snarled, as they glared at us obviously taking morbid pleasure in our dread.

“I can help Arelia,” whispered Sousson Pannan. “These men mean nothing to you; I can help you get rid of them. You can start a revolution today and free all these poor souls.”

I glanced around the miserable faces that surrounded me and was overcome with so much pain and pity that I couldn’t help but answer him. “Can you really help?” I muttered under my breath.

He let out a violent laugh that sent intense shudders through my body. “Of course I can. My thirst is instable. You know that. I can feast on them, and you can run. You can take all of these people with you. Songs will be sung in your glory. You’ll be remembered in countless history books.
 
You’ll be a legend. Legend, legend, legend, legend,” he hissed repeatedly.

I knew that I couldn’t trust him and messing with an unpredictable spirit like him would only make things worse. I knew what he was capable of. If I called upon him, he’d probably feast upon everyone including me. It would be a messy and grotesque bloodbath that I had no desire to create. Besides, I had no idea where they kept the rum in this place. “Go away,” I instructed. “I don’t need your help.”

“Don’t be so noble, Arelia, you know as much as I do what they deserve. Come on now.”

“No.” My voice was firm and determined. “Go away.”

“Next.” The ugly red-haired driver instructed. His squinty green eyes focused on me. Louis gave me a push, and I dragged the heavy sack towards him. Louis hoisted the basket on the table for me.

The burly blonde men behind the table scowled as they examined my face and started to weigh the cotton. I held my breath and clenched my clammy hands. “Pass,” said one of the men.

I exhaled and quickly moved to the side. It was Louis’ turn next. His face was twisted with fear, as he picked up his sack and basket.

As the men weighed the cotton, it was obvious they were immensely displeased. “Someone hasn’t done anything all day,” said one of them. “Fail.”

Fail? What did that mean? The red-headed man firmly took hold of Louis’ arm and thrust him into a corner. Vomit slowly crawled up my dry throat, as I realized what was about to happen. I closed my eyes and held back my tears as the lash of a whip met skin. Louis’ cries filled the room, and the other slaves looked at each other in terror. They knew that, at any second, they could be next.

As much as I was furious at the present day Louis, this Louis had sacrificed himself for me. He had taken on the punishment that was supposed to be mine. I reminded myself that I had to be strong. But with every lash and every scream, I felt myself growing increasingly weak.

“Legend,” whispered Sousson Pannan. “Legend. Say the words, Arelia and I will drink that driver dry and Louis won’t suffer another lash.”

“Legend?” I mindlessly questioned. All I had to do was say the word. I had lost count of the number of lashes Louis had suffered at this point. The cracks brutally continued, and I just wanted them to stop.

“Don’t listen to him, Arelia.” A warm wind wafted into the stuffy cabin, and I knew Bade was there. “He’s selfish, don’t listen to him. He won’t make it better. He’ll only make it worse. All he cares about is satisfying his appetite.”

“Are you sure?” I whispered. “Can you help?”

Bade hissed, “Something’s are just meant to be. Stay strong.”

The cracks and screams stopped, and a distorted Louis stumbled towards me. I took him into my arms and held him as best as I could. I cradled him and desperately wished that I could make all his pain disappear. I felt like an utter coward because I couldn’t bring myself to look at his back. I didn’t want to look at his back.

“Back to the cabin, you’ll know what to do,” he muttered, as his lips grazed my ear.

I forced back the bile that had built up in my throat and looked down at the necklace that hung around my neck. Wrath coursed through my veins.

I escorted Louis away from the gin-house, but the screams and pleads of other slaves followed us. I tried my best to block them out, but they soaked through my skin and filled me with a powerful sense of anguish.

“Damn you Lucus LaPlante, how could you have let any of this happen? And why can’t I stop thinking about you? You’ve totally interrupted my ordinary life.” I had to remind myself that none of this was rationally or logically Lucus’ fault.
 

Why did everything have to be so complicated?

Chapter 21

Healing Louis

I helped Louis slowly walk back to the cabin. My eyes still refused to meet his back. “Thank you. Thank you,” were the only words that came out of my mouth.

He said nothing. Only low moans of wretched pain escaped his lips. When we finally reached the cabin, he lay with his belly down on the makeshift bed which consisted of foul smelling rags.

“Arelia, go get the herbs.” Louis’ voice was barely audible.

“I don’t know where they are,” I said, still refusing to let my eyes meet his back.

“No time for games, you know where they’re hidden.”

Hidden? Why were they hidden? The obvious hit me. Slaves weren’t allowed to practice voodoo. Lucus had told me at Darkwood they were, but it was obvious he didn’t know the extent of fear that they lived under. I figured that Louis must have hidden his herbs, oils and candles in the same place he kept his diary.

I tried to ignore the revolting rats that nibbled on my toes and crawled up my back. The only thing I could think about was healing Louis. I dug frantically until my hands found a large, brown box. I was relieved to find that it held familiar smelling oils, herbs and candles. I thought back to how Aunt Mae had mixed them together and quickly started blending the fiery oils with the sweet smelling herbs I vaguely recognized. I found a white candle, lit it and anointed it with oil. The easy part was done.
 
The challenge would be bringing myself to actually look and touch Louis’ back.

“Hurry Arelia, I’m supposed to meet her tonight,” begged Louis.

He was supposed to meet someone, which would mean that I would be alone in the cabin, and I could easily make a run for it. Who was he supposed to meet? I held my breath and made my way over to where Louis was laying.

It took every inch of strength and determination in my body in order for me to kneel down and look at his back. As my eyes rested on the bloody mess, I knew that I needed to do more than simply pass oils and herbs on him, I wanted to sacrifice my own blood to make it go away. Because of my tragic cotton picking skills, this Louis had scarified himself to save me. As much as I despised the present day Louis, I was beginning to realize that he had once been a kind and loving soul. Over the years, circumstances had slowly changed him into the warped being he was today.

“Everything is going to be okay.” I tried to make my voice as soothing as possible for both our sakes. Softly, I dropped the oil and herbs on his powerful back. His cries were deafening as the formula combined with his blood. I tried to stop my hands from uncontrollably shaking, but it was futile. Being brave and strong was a lot harder than most people thought it was. I wanted to pull my hair and cry. My stomach growled, and my fingers could barely move.

“Hurry Arelia, I need to meet her. She’s waiting by the river,” he pleaded.

“Tell me how you feel about her.” I needed to distract him while I tried to make contact with Erzulie.

“She’s so beautiful,” he said wistfully.

“Does she work in the fields?” I asked, as I found a crude blade within the pile of herbs and oils. I brought it to my palm and held my breath. “You haven’t told me much about her at all. Why are you keeping her a secret?”

“Heavens no, she works in that great big house,” he said. “You’ll meet her one day,” he promised.

I stifled a cry, as blood drizzled from my palm.

“I love her; we’re going to be together forever. She’s promised me that already. When I’m with her, I forget all this misery, and I know redemption is close for me.”

As Louis continued to tell me about the love of his life, I silently called on Erzulie to help close his wounds. After seven stabs of the dagger, she finally responded with a gentle whisper. “I accept your offering my child. Your blood is enough to heal these wounds, but remember I won’t be able to help you on your way back home. Are you certain you want to use this offering to help Louis?”