Saturday, July 21, 2012

Day 203/366

My master was kind. She granted me a room, a bed, a television set and food. I humbly used them when I could. He had been here before me but he had no less than I did. Yet, he would not leave me be.

Arguments had been too frequent of late. But I tried to make amends and work around his ways. My efforts went to vain and I was repaid in insult and pain and a swollen eye.

I was grinding the ginger to add to my master's tea. The sound of crushing irked at him. He abused me and asked me to keep it down. I didn't do anything wrong but in a moment of senseless rage, he slapped me. I have two brothers and a father and no one has ever hit me, let alone raise their hand at me.

He was a stranger to me and he hurt me beyond repair. I will try to be strong tomorrow but for now, my throbbing head won't let me sleep. Who was he to even touch me, a stranger who is being forced to share the same space as him?

Look at him as he stands there remorseless, oblivious to the existence of guilt. The irony of it all: we don't even speak the same language.

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