frEEd ? but never frEE. not for me…
Hard, sharp ropes cut dEEp …
… into the blOOdy skin on my wrists.
Men were behind me, ready to beat me with their whips.
frEEd ? chapter 2 – martha
excerpts from “frEEd ?”
by penelope waFFle
And I braced myself to feel more pain in my already bloody back.
A few seconds paSSed.
Seemed like hours.
I was starting to think my new owner changed his mind. But then I felt a sharp, clear ache cutting into the shredded skin on my back.
I opened my mouth to scream.
I had to scream, but no sound would come out.
“Ain’t no one gonna help ya, sweetie,” my owner chided.
Suddenly I found my voice. “Jim!” I screamed. “Jim! Help me.”
Another dig in my skin with the handle end of his whip. This one harder than the last.
“Ain’t no one comin’ ta help ya. Ya know why?”
My owner bent down so close …
… to my face that I could feel his tobacco breathe on my neck. And his lips were level with my ear.
“Cause no one cares ’bout ya,” he snarled.
“Yes. Yes, they do.” My voice was barely a whisper. Tears of shame and rage and fear rolled down my cheeks.
“Oh really? Where are they now? Too scared, huh?” My owner taunted. “I’ll even let them pass if they a-comin’ right now.”
Here was my one chance.
“They’re too scared. And they don’t care ’bout you. Which is exactly why no one has come for ya.”
It felt like he was trying to kiss my neck. And he started touching me. Below. Where he shouldn’t…
I thought. My dizzy mind raced.
Did I dare do this now? His face became flushed, clearly enjoying what he was doing.
His fingers holding the whip loosened. And then, without even realizing it, my owner dropped it.
In that split second …
… I picked it up, banged the wooden whip handle against his head as hard as I could.
And then hands came out of nowhere. Before I could scream, dirty fingers covered my mouth. I tried to pry them off, but they gripped even tighter over my mouth.
The last thing I remembered hearing was “Be careful. She’s dangerous, Scott.”
And then I felt someone opening my mouth, and putting something in it.
The last thing I reMEmber before I blacked out.
Hi, my real name is …
… Vivaka. I like my real name. But my pen name is penelope waFFle. ‘Cuz I like waFFles. And I reaLLy like puTTing double caps in the miDDle of words.
I like pink.
And my grandpa says …
I am the “next big thing” to hit the history thriller book market. Hey, why not ? I’m writing about one chapter per month.
I’m 11 years old.
My name is penelope waFFle, and I’m gonna be a New York Times Best Selling Author by age 12.