I remember the tender light of the setting sun softly illuminating everything in sight that evening. I was picking freshly grown potatoes and corn from the ripe earth with another imprisoned being. His given name as a slave was John. Mine was Noah. We weren't allowed to call each other anything else due to the slave masters who wanted us to forget our previous, more joyful lives. The lives we had before we were captured and brought here, forever being forced to work for years and years to come until we were too old and too broken to be of use any longer.

I can't recall exactly how me and my family were kidnapped, and I'm thankful for that, but I do remember the seemingly never-ending voyage and my arrival to North America. It's a long string of memories I don't think I'll be able to forget. Ever. My family and I were tangled in a series of heavy weighing chains. But it wasn't only us. There were a handful of others drowned in chains too. The strong, cold metal had a tight grip on our ankles and wrists. All of them from every one present were connected. So if anyone foolishly attempted to escape we would, without choice, hold them back. The white men there led us onto the ship, whipping and yelling at us saying, "Quickly! Quickly! Hurry up!" They expected us to fit in a petite room on the ship with a very limited amount of personal space. A simple task like breathing was made difficult because of this.

Once inside-and crammed together- the ship started sailing after about 20 minutes or so. I was very uncomfortable being next to complete strangers. At least I still have my family with me, I thought. I stared at a sobbing child with devastated eyes that longed for affection and comfort, but had no one around. The young one found me staring and quickly ducked and hid in their arms to cover their face.Because we were on the lower deck of the boat, the violent tides of the ocean were greatly emphasized. Every crash against the wood recreated the powerful sound of a lightning bolt. It made my skin jump with every strike. The breathing issue was also starting to arise. The breaths I did manage to grasp were miracles. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore all sounds, all other thoughts and feelings. I imagined myself at home, still free. The hot air gently pushing against my face, the sun's warmth touching my body, the dry scent created by the parched land. I missed it all.

It seemed like an eternity before I was standing on firm ground again. 9 or 10 months had passed. I was relieved we were out of the boat, but that feeling didn't last. There was a huge crowd of people who were lighter skinned and maybe about 40 steps away from where I was standing. They were facing a wooden structure about 3 feet tall. As soon as they saw us, they suddenly yelled, jumped and some even shoved each other. One white man with a prickly, big mustache stood on top of the platform. He told the large group of people to settle down in a polite, but firm voice. He then turned to us, obviously eager and excited, and was studying our group. His eyes shifted from person to person up until he saw me and my family, smiling successfully. He walked down the platform and then towards us.

The mustached man, still staring at my family, called one of the sailors that led us here. In a demanding tone, he told the sailor,"I'm going to bid these first. While I do that, I expect you to get the others cleaned up and looking fit. You're late. Get moving." The young sailor nodded in agreement and apologized. He separated our chains from the rest, leaving us individually tied up. I was battling the strong urge to cry. I wanted to stay strong for my little sister, though I was frightened of the feeling of not knowing future events. I quietly asked my mother as we were being led up the stairs of the wooden platform by the man, "What's happening Mama?" All she told me was, "Stay strong." My father joined in. He whispered that he and my mother loved me, and to never, ever forget it.

Once on the highest point, the mustached man pointed directly at Mama and Papa. "This family is extremely healthy! There are two parents still very young and fit for working!" He now pointed at me and my sister. "These younger ones however, are easier to handle and teach to! They'll grow up knowing your commands and rules!" This got the crowd worked up. They were starting to push and holler again. The man raised his voice to be heard over the loud yelling. "The bidding starts at $900! These 4 at $900 each! Do I hear $900?"

A loud, painful sounding grunt interrupted my memory reflection and snapped me back into the present. I turned to where the sound was originating from. It was John. He was down on his knees, tightly clutching his chest. I regret not helping. Instead, I stood still, looking like an idiot. He glanced back at me, pleading for help with his eyes that were filled with sparkling tears, before finally falling on the ground. Something in my brain suddenly clicked, and I instantly ran to the open door way of the house. I yelled for one of my masters. The middle aged woman who bought me and my sister a couple years ago and separated us from our parents slowly appeared. She was master Caroline.

"What do you want?" she asked, obviously irritated. I pointed at John behind me. I explained that he collapsed and didn't get up, so I thought I would go get help. Behind Caroline, I could see my younger sister dusting in a room. Master Caroline stared at me, looking skeptical. She narrowed her eyes and in a flat tone said, "Really?"

I wished that she would just quit questioning me and go assist John. I secretly clenched my fists behind my back and I nodded, trying to look and act calm. She called her husband, Adam. He was terrifying: humongous, strong and had a threatening, deep voice. He also was in great shape for his age- unlike his wife. I only said this in my mind. I wouldn't dare speak it out loud. I would most likely be yelled at and beat half to death for my criticism. When master Caroline finished repeating what I said, he glared down at me. His stare was cold and sharp, opposite to mine.

His long, death-like gaze sent multiple shivers down my spine. My legs suddenly felt a little unbalanced and shaky, too. He walked in the direction leading to the door, still staring at me until the wall came and blocked him out. He opened it with a loud creak and stepped outside. Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up! He saw John's body. He was laying on his stomach and was face-down. Master Adam wasn't gentle. He most likely thought John was asleep because when he approached him, he slapped his back aggressively. Surely, if he was actually sleeping that should've awakened him, but it didn't. Master Adam was becoming impatient."Get up, boy!" he yelled. Finally, he snatched his hair and raised his head to look at him. Master Adam let go, rolled his eyes and sighed. He walked back into the house and gestured me to go away and keep working from the window.

I resumed picking potatoes like nothing had happened, but that didn't mean I wasn't interested about what occurred. I also couldn't stop staring at John's body while I worked, but how could I not? I wanted to go check up on him and make sure he was alright. Why did master Adam abandon him? Did he pass out? Is he sick? More than an hour of harvesting vegetables, my curiosity got the best of me. I no longer cared that I would be yelled at for not automatically tendering to the animals afterward, I desperately needed to know what had happened to John. I looked back to the inside the house to make sure no one was watching me as I hastily creeped towards John. I bent over and nudged him. "Hey," I whispered. He didn't respond. I got a hold of his face and slowly lifted it up so I could see what made master Adam give up.

One short look and I dropped his head and stumbled backwards. He was dead. His face was pale and bare. His eyes were rolled upward. Tears ran down my cheeks in a split second. John was like family. If I was ever exhausted from the work master Caroline and Adam made us do, he would offer to take over to do my part himself. I felt greedy every time I let him do my portion of the work, but I was weak compared to him. He had already lived there with master Adam and Caroline before me and my little sister arrived. He was so strong and kind. He loved and cared about my sister as much as I did. But he was gone. Never returning again. Our field work was split, but he's not here anymore. What would happen now?

I patted his back a few times before looking up at the sky. The moon was shining. The breeze pushing past the surrounding trees' leaves causing them to rustle was the only thing breaking the sad silence of the night. I stared at John once more and hoped that his soul was at peace for once. I stood up, still feeling deeply hurt. I made my way to the house. I wasn't supposed to ask, but I wanted to know what was going to happen to John. I stopped at the doorway like usual. If I didn't, my actions were considered punishable to my masters for disturbing them if it wasn't for a good enough reason- like someone's death. When I arrived, master Adam or Caroline didn't punish me. I asked what they were going to do with John. Master Caroline replied, "Just bury him somewhere in the field. It doesn't really matter." She then waved me away.

But master Adam scowled at me. "Do we have to remind you that you are not allowed to enter?" I shook my head and apologized. He crossed his arms and said, "I was going to call you, anyway. Here, take filthy Anna with the animals." When I received my sister from them, she had a giant, red hand mark on her small, delicate cheek. I brushed my hand against her forehead to silently comfort her, knowing I didn't have the power to do anything about it. I then led her to the animal pen. I disliked my masters punishing me, but when they punished my sister, I always felt so fumed. She was only 9 and she had to do most of the indoor work. Cleaning, laundry, dishes. Even take care of their own kids. Then they thank her by slapping her across the face so hard that it leaves a stubborn, red print. Those jerks.

Despite the anger boiling inside me, I pulled her in a tight embrace. I softly whispered, "Things will get better." I hoped she thought it was true. I myself, couldn't believe the lie no matter how hard I forced it into my mind. Only for her, I wore false smiles on my face, though deep down I wanted to give up completely. She's the only family I had left. I needed to have strength, just like John did. I tucked her in the bed we owned. It wasn't comfortable. In fact, I wouldn't even call it a bed. It was simply a small area we had slept on. I covered the mud with leaves when we were new here so we wouldn't get as dirty. I had to change them every so often of course, because they poked at my skin at night. We were also given an old, tattered blanket with multiple holes in it to sleep with by the youngest daughter of Adam and Caroline. One afternoon, the girl came up to me in silent steps. Shyly, she steadily handed me the torn fabric and explained that she would get me one of better quality if her mom ever decided dispose of it. If she took a blanket of her own, gave it to us and her mother found out, she would be scolded. Me, John and "Anna" however, would have a greater punishment for actually accepting the gift. She seemed to be the only one with an actual heart in that family. Or, once was.

Once I finished tucking her in, I told her I would return. I didn't want to tell her that our masters expected me to dig John's grave. I ran around the whole field, looking for a decent place to bury him in. If he was to be buried in a random spot with no one to remember him for who he was when he was still alive, I at least have to put effort into choosing where he was going to rest. I found a flower bed after searching for approximately half an hour. I grabbed my shovel and started digging. It broke my heart for me to have to say goodbye like that. My fallen tears were given to the thirsty flowers below me. It was slightly disturbing for me to have to do the job, but I'm sure if master Adam decided to do it himself, he wouldn't have cared or have been as gentle as much as I did.

I returned to my sister. When she asked what I was doing the whole time, I answered with, "I'll tell you when you're older." A few moments of silence passed until I told her to speak to me about what happened to her in the house. Her eyes widened at the memory and started weeping. She managed to tell me in between gasps, stuttering and tears that she had heard master Adam and Caroline talk about me and John. They had decided that they did not want another slave. It was too costly. Plus, I was getting older and should have more responsibilities.