Onyx
Working hard was the only way…
My hands burned with each stroke of the hoe into the soil. The blisters only got worse with each day that passed, unable to heal. Gloves? What were those? Only the owners received the covering to protect their flesh. It was ironic considering we, us kids, did the work.
With each bite of pain, my will grew stronger. I read in a book somewhere that hard work would mean great things. Where I was, nothing was great except for Dane, Garrett, and Paxton. I damn well have worked hard here.
“This fuckin’ sucks.” Paxton came up to me, pretending to hoe the ground.
“Yep, but you want to eat, right?” Not stopping, we continued to work side by side. Dane and Garrett were on the other end of the large farm. I overheard one of the owners talking about this being ten and a half acres.
After working and walking the land, I didn’t doubt that figure. It didn’t matter, though, this was what was expected from us. No complaining. No talking back. No arguing. Not that the four of us gave two shits about those expectations. It depended on the day, whether we followed or not.
Today had been one of those days, one where we did as we were told. The sun beat down on my flesh through the long shirts and trousers. Hot? Try stifling. Sweat poured down my face and rolled down my back.
“I’m starving,” Paxton said, moving away from me and keeping his eye on Amos who watched us like hawks. We’d been out for hours with no food and no water. How my body pushed through, I’d never know.
“Maybe it’s an early day.” I swiped my brown with the sleeve of my shirt.
Paxton began to chuckle, “Just like every other day, right?”
I heard horse hooves in the distance and turned to them. Amos was coming our way. My radar skyrocketed as he approached, the stern look on his face wasn’t good.
“Talking instead of working?” He had some kind of accent, but it didn’t seem to come from another nationality, more like he was born with it. A lot of the men here did. It really came from what I heard referenced as Pennsylvania Dutch. Being a boy, I wasn’t sure how you could describe a Pennsylvania Dutch accent or why we lived in America and anyone would have a Dutch accent. I also wasn’t allowed to ask those questions either, so it didn’t matter.
“No, Sir,” I responded, looking over at Paxton to shut his mouth. He listened.
This was going to be a bad day. One where Amos was itching to find something one of us did wrong because he had a need to feed his beast. And he had it—a beast. No one wanted to meet it. Ever.
“No, Sir.” The hoe in my grasp was the only thing blocking me from Amos. If I were to use it and crack it over his head, I’d be dead. That’s what happened to those children who weren’t wanted or tossed away. We grew up in places like this, starving; trying to get by until we reached eighteen.
“Then it was you,” Amos accused Paxton.
“No, Sir.” Paxton’s monotone was laced with the knowledge that he, too, knew what was going to happen.
“I think it was. Paxton, you come with me,” he growled, but I stepped in front of Paxton.
I had to do something. Thinking fast, I allowed the words to tumble out of my mouth. “It was me. Not him. I asked him a question about the seed going in.”
“Onyx…” I sliced my eyes to Paxton, and he shut up immediately. He hadn’t been here as long. He hadn’t been nearly as tainted and mind fucked as me or Dane. I would do anything I could to keep it that way.
Amos’s eyes squinted. “Move!” he ordered. Me and my hoe followed him, but not too close; those horses kicked hard. “I knew it was you,” he growled. “You’re a liar, and I will get the Devil out of you.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. I could do this. I’d done it many times. Another one wouldn’t be bad. And when he was done, the Devil would still be inside me; Amos just didn’t need to know that.
We made our way up to the barn, where Amos got off his horse and tied it up. He reached inside the door of the barn, and I knew what he was getting. I knew what would be in his hand. I knew it hurt like a mother, and Amos showed absolutely no mercy saying we had to learn.
It was always about us learning his way.
The long leather whip came into view, and I had to hold back a tremble. Amos’ hand was wicked because he could flick it at just the right time to increase the pain. Pain kept us in line.
“Shirt off, hands on the barn.”
Slowly, I removed my shirt, button by button, and set it nicely on the door handle. Sharp shards of wood entered my palms with my weight, but they would feel better than what Amos had planned. With having little food, my body wasn’t muscle like one would expect. Even with all the hours spent in the fields, I couldn’t gain because of the lack of nutrients. Just the way he wanted me. Just the way he wanted all of us because that would give us a disadvantage against him. That would never happen.
The sun beat down on my back, muscles tensing, just waiting for the first blow. It was always the worst out of all of them. It was initial shock to the body.
The whip cracked behind me with a thwack and I jolted, but it didn’t touch me. This was another of Amos’ games. He liked to put fear and anticipation in me before he served his punishment. The leather cracked against the wind, tapping the dirt by my feet and throwing it up.
My hands shook, and no matter what I did they wouldn’t stop. That’s when the first lash cut across the flesh of my upper shoulder. I bit my lip, holding in the scream that wanted to filter out. When I didn’t give him the satisfaction of my wails, that’s when it happened.
He snapped. Most people wouldn’t want to provoke someone when they knew what was going to happen. Me, I found it easier to get it over with and not drag it out. If he was going to bloody my body, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing my cries.
It killed. Each snap of the whip coming faster and faster, hitting everywhere on my back that was exposed. The warm trickle down my skin let me know he’d broken my skin and I was about half way done with my punishment.
I was wrong. My back was on fire, and silent tears leaked from my eyes as he continued his brutal assault.
“The Devil will leave you!” he ordered, swinging and snapping the large leather strap against me repeatedly, never letting me catch my breath for a moment.
The pain made my head dizzy, and it wasn’t long until my knees gave out and I fell to the ground. That was when Amos spit on me and said, “You’re worthless.” He left me there until I was able to get up myself and make my way back to my room.
There would be no food for me tonight. Only the pain, blood, and anger that boiled under the surface.
One day, I’d show him exactly what it felt like to be whipped. One day, he’d wish it was the Devil himself standing in front of him with all the power and not me. One day, I would come for him, for them all.