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Post by Deleted on Aug 31, 2013 1:25:00 GMT
I was eight when I saw my father kill my mother. Eight when he turned to me and I knew I was next. Eight when I had to take up arms to defend myself. Eight when I killed my father. Eight when I was thrown to the life of slavery by my uncle who could not pay for my orphaned self.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 31, 2013 1:26:07 GMT
In slavery, there is no selflessness. There is no care or kindness. There is only pain and cruelty and you must be selfish and uncaring or you will die. This is the life I grew into. This is the beginning of the path which lead me to where I am today. I fought, lied, killed, stole...I did whatever I had to to survive. I even bartered my body to get ahead. You do what you have to.
When I was thirteen, I found kindness where I least expected it. Still a slave, I was sold into the service of a cruel Lord and his wife. It was this woman who showed me kindness, not being like her husband at all, and for a few short moments, I knew what it was like to be cared for again. She taught me that I too had the ability for kindness within me. Its a trait I still have, though only those whom I trust ever see it.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 31, 2013 1:27:26 GMT
She died too, though. Her cruel husband quickly got fed up with me being her 'pet' - among many other problems - and told me that if I did not kill her then he would kill me and then her. What kindness I had learned from that woman was nothing compared to the drive of survival. You do what you have to...or so I thought. When the time came, I couldn't kill her. Instead I turned to him and killed him. I knew, even then, what I was - an evil soul with only shreds of kindness painting its edges at times. He was nothing to me, and his blood was easily shed.
Yet the kindess of the woman did not cease and it was she who took the blame for my crime. I didn't expect it but perhaps she saw something more within me than I saw within myself at the time. She was imprisoned and put to death and I was once again sold - this time into the life of a gladiator.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 31, 2013 1:27:47 GMT
A young female. They never knew when they threw me into that arena at the age of fourteen that within three years I would be the Champion and have won my freedom. But I did and it was with that freedom I drank it in for all it was worth.
I had no care in the world. I could travel where I wanted and do whatever I wanted. I took what I needed and I fought those who opposed me. It was a good life...an easy life.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 31, 2013 1:28:06 GMT
Then I got into a bit of a mess...pissed off the wrong person and soon I was running for my life. I was found hiding in the cellar of a Baron, wounded and weakened. He nursed me back life and I repaid him by becoming his personal bodyguard - and his mistress.
He died too though. That person I had pissed off found it more amusing and fitting she kill the one man who I ever cared about rather than kill me. She paid with her life for that action, yet still, I was once again alone with death in my wake.
Now I travel once more. I wonder what Q'ama shall throw in my path.
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