His earliest memories were of the shed where his mother lived, along many a slave like her, with no regard for gender division.
That was where he opened his eyes, and where he spent most of his life, knowing no other place to call home.
He was a mistake, something that shouldn't have happened all along.
However, his mother couldn't get rid of him.
Not when she discovered she was pregnant.
Nor when he was born.
Call it foolishness or a mother's instinct. He didn't know which one it was, and the woman didn't know if both could be distinguished.
A mother's instinct would drive a woman to do foolish things.
He hadn't been an hour old when the master of his parents made him wear a metal anklet around his leg, marking him as his possession.
A child born to a slave is nothing but a slave, and they had to wear the same shackles.
Despite that, the master was not as happy about having an extra mouth to feed.
