1
How many of you remember the day you was born?
I know weird question right?
But I do.
I can remember being to scared to see the world so I hid for five extra months in mother, I tried to choose my birth date, but mommy dearest couldn't wait to be rid of me. Fearing the worst every day past her due date.
Luckily my mother unju wasn't the type to stay idle in misery instead, using that time to plan for her escape.
The only thing she couldn't plan for was me. After 12 months I was a riddle so perplexing even the white doctors came down from there ivory clean hospitals to see my mother, in her slave qourters of all places.
Negros weren't allowed to give birth in hospitals, usually doctors would only visit if there was a complication.
Even my snake of a father reveled in the attention of my birth, To the annoyance of his wife Margaret. That is until I was labeled freak of nature, most doctors believed I would die either in her womb or giving birth. Hoping for my death so I can be autopsied and researched further.
The fateful night was july, 26,1805, 11:17 pm.
The wind howled and rattled the huge wooden doors of the little sun washed faded red barn, but inside, everything was hectic.
Heavy.
Suspended.
Unju lay curled on her side, her breath coming in thin, uneven pulls, while Mire knelt behind her and rubbed her back with steady, practiced hands.
Mother was tall for a woman standing at 5'10, broad-hipped and solidly built, the kind of body shaped more for endurance than grace.
Her narrow shoulders hunched forward now, and her small chest rose and fell too quickly, as though each breath cost her more than the last.
Her once-clean tunic white stitched through with brown thread clung damply to her skin, darkened by sweat and smeared with blood. The fabric twisted as her body trembled, knees drawn up against her middle, pressing into the thin blankets and scratchy hay beneath her. Straw poked painfully through the cloth, catching against her skin, but Unju hardly seemed to notice. Pain had narrowed her world to the relentless tightening in her body and the firm, familiar touch of Mire's hands, anchoring her to the moment and to life itself.
Her hands were balled into fists, as she hissed curses at the name of the man who impregenated her, from one contraction to another, arms cramping from how long she'd been keeping herself together.
Hours flew by filled with tension and fear. I was her first and only child. She heard plenty of horror story's, shared around campfires amongst other childless mothers and those were from normal births. nothing about my conception or birth could be considered average. A concern that played over and over again in unju's mind Until now.
The only thing keeping mom awake was the escape plan and the pain thats been climbing up her spine like a ladder she couldn't escape. her eyes glassy, But focused and determined to make it. The barn was far too warm, too small, too loud.
But she wasn't alone her friends were the best midwives on the plantation, Nara, and Mire draped tunics on nervous sweet slick bodys.
"it ain't here yet?" Mire whispered from behind her, voice low and tight. "You needs ta push again." Unju shook her head, or tried to. Her vision had gone slick at the edges, her breath caught in a rasping rattle in her throat.
I was stubborn to say the least.
Something inside her twisted again, sharp enough to make her bite down on her tongue. Copper flooded her mouth silencing her screams.
"She don't got no time," muttered another voice Nara, standing at the foot of the mess, hands already slick with blood, as she helps hold unju's legs open for her, watching anxiously as unju slips in and out of consciousness. "If she sleeps, were done for. They'll take the baby and lock her up 'tils she's useful again."
Mom hearing that and Just imagining the horror they would inflict on her baby, snaps unju back to reality. "No if I can't make it take my baby with you to freedom." Mom pleads weakly, every word spoken from shallow breath. Mom could feel the contractions coming so she quickly inhaled again. "At least with you my soul will be free." Hearing how hard unju's was fighting forced Mire to tear up while giving Nara a look that said shut the fuck up.
"See she aint's passing out no time soon " Mire growled out followed by a smirk. "Still gots her wits about her." "
"Unju You hears me? This the last one." Mire leans in to whisper in unju's ear. "The last push. Then we go. Just like we said."
"Keep pushing the heads peeking." Nara exclaims excitedly while mire wipes Unju's brow, doing everything she could to keep her calm.
"Aaaahh!!!" Unju screams as she pushes herself passed the pain of birth.
The scent of hay and blood clung thick in the air. Shadows from the hanging oil lamp danced along the cracked wood beams, painting the barn walls with ghostly flickers. Cigarette smoke wafted in from outside making Nara cough a little.
Footsteps creaked across the dry-rotted porch outside the barn.
Each one was measured.
Heavy.
Deliberate.
"You girls best not be wastin my time in there." My father's voice hovered, slipping through the warped boards like a blade under a door.
No one answered.
No one even flinched.
All eyes stayed on Unju.
Inside his chest, Franklin was unraveling.
He had stood on that porch longer than he meant to. Long enough to count breaths. Long enough to picture her riding north under pine and fog, her hands steady on reins he had chosen himself.
Long enough to imagine the moment he'd lie just once more to the other owners.
Delay the notice.
Lose the trail.
Buy time.
Horses already hidden.
Maps folded and sealed in oilcloth. Routes etched into his mind like prayer. Just follow the mountains, he'd planned. Appalachians all the way to Canada. Freedom carved in stone and shadow.
But the thing inside him the thing that rode his nerves and drank his fear had no use for tenderness. So when he spoke, it came out wrong.
"You best not die on me, Wiley!" The name cracked through the barn.
Unju's spine chilled at the sound of it. That old, private name never meant for ears like these. For
just a breath, it sounded like worry.
Then the demon twisted the knife.
"I paid too much for ya." He paced the porch, boots thudding hard, anger loud enough to drown the truth clawing at his throat.
"And that baby better not be retarded." Smoke spilled from his mouth with each word, bitter and gray.
Inside, he hated himself for saying it. Hated how small he felt. Hated that fear made him cruel. Hated that the only way he knew to protect was to bark and snarl like a chained dog.
He worried for the child too.
He just didn't know how to let that be seen. Inside the barn, Unju didn't answer.
She couldn't.
Her jaw was locked tight, breath controlled, every ounce of her focus bent toward getting me free. Her hands were clenched around Mire's wrists too tight, grounding herself in something solid, something alive.
Mire's irritation curdled into rage.
"Shut up," she hissed under her breath, venom-soft.
"Shut up, you fat-headed fopdoodle… gollumpus."
The insult was ridiculous.
Childish.
And for just a single heartbeat Unju smiled.
Just a flicker.
An image flashed through her mind: Franklin's face going red, sputtering, powerless. The fantasy was thin comfort, but it was enough to keep her standing. Enough to keep her breathing.
Outside, Franklin stopped pacing.
His hand hovered over the barn door.
He almost went in.
Almost tore the mask off. Almost begged. Almost told her everything. Instead, the demon tightened its grip.
Until the moment passed.
"Breathe, Unju. You're almost done," Mire urged, her hands blood slick, her voice steady only by force. Nara crouched between Unju's knees, eyes wide, tracking movement. "He's crowning."
Another contraction ripped through her like lightning.
Unju screamed not words, not sound something raw and animal tore out of her chest until something shifted.
Slid.
Gave way.
Darkness released me.
Pressure vanished all at once, and suddenly I was out foul air crashing into lungs that had never tasted it. Nara nearly dropped me, grunting as she caught my weight.
"God above he's heavy!"
Nearly thirty pounds of newborn.
My mind wasn't finished forming the way a baby's should be, but those stolen months those extra five gave me sight, awareness, clarity. The world came rushing in too fast.
Light split the barn like a promise.
Life felt wrong without her. Empty. Detached. Even still I felt her. The tether stretched thin but present.
Nara cradled me, wiping my mouth and nose with a clean rag pulled from her pocket. She checked my breath once. Twice. Then tied off the umbilical cord with the same cloth and cut it clean.
The moment the connection snapped.
Pain exploded through my chest.
Not physical. Something deeper.
I nearly screamed,
Nara startled at the look on my face, but I didn't cry.
"You… you have a son," she breathed, tears streaking her cheeks.
For a heartbeat, the barn went silent.
No wind.
No breath.
No sound but the fragile thud of life.
The first thing I truly saw was light.
Then color.
Rich browns. Deep reds. Blood-dark shadows. The world was mesmerizing. Too much and not enough all at once.
The woman holding me her scent was wrong. Her energy unfamiliar. Her voice trembling.
I didn't know who I was looking for until our eyes met.
Unju lay on the hay like death reheated. Skin pale. Lips bloodless. Sweat-soaked hair clinging to her face. She should have looked broken.
Instead, she glowed.
Dim.
Fading.
But glowing all the same.
The instant we locked eyes I smiled.
Not because I was happy.
But because smiling felt like breathing.
Relief swept the barn.
Mire laughed, sharp and giddy, dropping to her knees beside Unju. "Can't be too hurt if he's smi..."
Nara's words turned to ash as my smile kept going.
It stretched.
Not a newborn's twitch.
Not a soft, sleepy smirk.
A full, beaming smile.
Too wide.
Too calm.
Too knowing.
I inhaled deeply, taking in sweat, hay, iron, horse shit.
My smile widened unnaturally.
The barn didn't breathe anymore.
No one spoke.
They just stared.
Mire stepped back like she'd seen a ghost.
Nara swallowed hard. "What the hell is wrong with him?"
I smiled.
My eyes too open, too steady never left Unju.
She gasped softly, breath hitching in her chest. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out. When Nara finally placed me in her arms, something shattered.
And something bloomed.
Unju pulled me close despite the wrongness carved into my face.
I have a son.
The thought repeated, louder than fear.
For the first time in her life, nothing was being taken from her.
For the first time she felt blessed.
I nestled against her heartbeat.
Familiar.
Fading.
My smile softened. Not gone. Never gone.
But different.
She felt it before she saw it.
Love.
Then I felt her body began to fail.
I was warm against her.
Too warm.
Blood loss caught up. The warmth rapidly drained from her limbs. Mire and Nara moved fast too fast hands pressing, herbs crushed, prayers whispered through clenched teeth.
Nothing worked.
Their knowledge was old. Incomplete. Useless.
"Stay awake," Mire begged near her ear. "You pass out, he'll take the baby. Remember the plan. Tonight. You and the boy gone."
The fog lifted just enough.
"Gone… tonight," Unju whispered, nodding.
Fifteen hours of agony had emptied her. She was a shell holding me for first and last moment.
Hers eyes shut,
But I didn't cry.
I didn't squirm.
You think I'd allow this?
Three minutes later.
The barn door slammed open.
Franklin filled the doorway.
He was a big man 5'11 and soft around the middle, the kind of bulk that came from years of eating heavy and moving little. His shirt clung damply to his stomach, stretched tight as his chest heaved. His face was flushed a furious, blotchy red, sweat shining along his temples and soaking into the roots of his hair.
That hair that ridiculously, popular style, parted clean down the middle hung in dark, greasy curtains against his skull. Normally it made him look foolish.
Now it made him look unhinged.
For a heartbeat, standing there in the threshold, he looked smaller somehow.
Uncertain.
Strangely nervous.
A thing his dark passenger hated more than pain.
"Why's she all quiet like?" Franklin demanded, his voice cracking as his eyes locked onto the midwives clustered around Wiley.
Mire and Nara were bent over Unju, hands stained dark, checking vitals, whispering prayers under their breath. Too focused to answer. Too busy trying to pull life back from the edge.
The more Franklin saw the blood, the tighter his chest became.
Too much of it.
The worry crept in uninvited, sharp and cold and his dark passenger recoiled.
The demon that lived in his bones had no use for such weakness. No patience for fear. Those emotions were cracks, places where something else could get in. Where it could lose control.
So it did what it always did.
It smothered worry with rage.
The closer Franklin stepped, the more blood he saw. Unju lay unnaturally still. The baby hadn't cried. Hadn't moved.
Fear twisted, sharpened, and turned violent.
His jaw clenched. A scowl carved itself deep into his thin lips.
"Somebody tell me something, damn it!"
He stomped forward, his black leather boot slamming into the barn floor.
KATHUMP.
The sound echoed off the wooden walls, loud in the suffocating silence. Horses shifted nervously in their stalls. The air felt tight like it might snap.
Being ignored only fed the fire.
Mire and Nara were too deep in their work, too desperate, to notice the predator closing in behind them.
Hands poised to separate mother from child.
Hands that would end everything.
Franklin's fingers suddenly closed around Mire's neck.
He yanked her backward, forcing her to face him. Her breath tore from her lungs in a sharp gasp as terror flashed across her face.
Brown met blue.
His fist came up fast, heavy, inevitable.
Mire flinched.
Her body braced for the blow before it landed.
But it didn't.
Franklin's arm locked mid swing, muscles trembling, knuckles white. His teeth bared in a snarl as something inside him fought back hard enough to make his whole frame shake.
The real Franklin clawed to the surface, screaming, No.
Mire felt the hesitation like a miracle she didn't understand. Her knees buckled anyway, breath hitching, eyes squeezed shut as if the pain would come late.
"Speak," Franklin growled, voice torn between two throats, breath hot and rancid with fury. "Or I'll carve the truth outta you."
The barn seemed to hold its breath.
Mire couldn't speak. Fear and pain crushed her voice into nothing.
Then Nara turned.
She saw the hand around Mire's neck. The stalled fist. The war raging behind Franklin's eyes wild, hollow, wrong.
"There lives are in danger!" Nara shouted, stepping between him and the table without hesitation. "Every second we waste fighting is a second we lose both mother and baby!" The words struck deep.
For the first time since he entered, Franklin froze.
The rage faltered.
And beneath it just for a moment the real Franklin screamed.