Arald's Monologue

Yesterday, my life changed. Arald, one of the older, hardened slaves had come up to me, taking my hand and pulling me behind the lean-to that all the slaves have to stay in. We lived on a small plantation, with a cruel Master who forced us to start working before the sun has risen, and to end much later than it has gone down. He was vicious, whipping any slave who was too slow, or who did not do a good job. He’d sold off Ma and Pa a little while ago, leaving me with my younger brother, Tommy. Since then, Arald has been caring for Toms and I. He’s like an uncle to us. Now, though, he grasped my arm in a fierce hold, putting a finger to his lips. “Listen, Scipio,” Arald’s rough, gravely voice whispered to me. “I’m going to get you out of here.
My small brown feet shifted uneasily in the dirt below, and my thoughts became a hurricane. There was one question, however, that made it’s way to the surface first.
“What about Tommy?” I glanced around for the boy in question. My little brother was everything to me, and there was no way I was leaving him behind. Surely Arald had simply forgotten. When I glanced up, however, the older man was gazing at my with sympathy in his pitch-black eyes. “No,” I said, realizing what this meant. I remembered all the times Tom and I had had each other’s backs, and, with a start, I saw my only two options: either stay a slave with my brother or somehow sneak him out with
Then, to my relief and horror, something finally happened. Crack! Flinching, I curled into a tighter ball. That sound petrified me. It was the sound of the whip. Crack! Crack! Wordlessly, I began to count. Only three lashes so far. Crack! Four. Crack! Five. This went on for a few more minutes. Finally, after the whip did not ring true for a good while, I realized the beating had stopped. Arald had gotten a harsh thirty lashes. Still, I waited. There! The tip-tap of the Master’s fancy boots grew fainter, until, at last, there was a moment of perfect, absolute