10 - A crust of bread

 

 

I was a 12-year old girl when I came into this place.

Now I am 14, though I can’t be sure if I am a boy or girl or even if I am still alive.

I’ve even stopped thinking I am hungry when I always am.

One guard who watches over us used to tell me he would give me the crusts of his black bread if I am nice to him.

I know what he means by nice and I always told him no.

Now when I might be willing to give him what he wants just for the crusts of bread, he tells me he doesn’t want me any more.

I’m too much skin and bones.

Now he gets his fun by watching me as I watch him eat.

He always leaves the crusts.

And when he’s done he takes them outside the fence and gives them to the birds.

Sometimes he kills the birds because he knows I like them, too.

We both know sooner or later, I will have to die.

Either I will starve or THEY will put me on a long line from which no one has ever come back.

Sometimes I miss momma and poppa who went on that line a long time ago.

Sometimes I think I even love this man, not because I do, but simply because he is all I have left,

And I know as long as I still ache for his crusts of bread, I’m still alive.

 


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