Chapter Fifty-eight

Esmeralda

Once upon a time, I was a slave. I was used, abused, tossed around, shackled, beaten, starved, almost raped and bullied.

Once upon a time, I knew what physical pain was. I was familiar with hostility and suffering, so familiar that it began the day with me and ended when I retired to bed late in the dead of the night.

Once upon a time, I craved death daily, like an addict craved his addiction, but death failed me.

Once upon a time, I hated myself, the hatred was so strong that I inflicted myself with pain.

Once upon a time I was like the girl shut up in the North wing, left to rot alone in the darkness.

Unloved. Uncared for.

I used to be like her, scared, vulnerable, helpless.

She had no one by her side. None that loved her, none that was willing to save her from the evil claws of her predator.

She was misjudged.

Her struggles for freedom were misjudged as being harmful. Her whispers for help were misjudged as annoying screams.

She was not dangerous, she