When Bertha did not come to the house, someone was sent to bring her and her little girl to the master. Bertha was brought to the house but she did not have Anisha with her. "Where is your daughter?" James asked sharply. Bertha just stood there. "I asked you, where is your daughter?" James slapped her face bringing a trickle of blood to the corner of her mouth. Bertha stood there defiantly, "I not know what you were told Massa but I do not have a daughter." James hit her again and had her taken away.James had several men, both black and white, start looking for the young runaway slave girl and before dawn she was found hiding in some brush on her way to town. She was dragged back to the plantation and locked in a room in one of the barns. After breakfast she was brought to the main house. Her mother came with her. They were held in front of James by two white men that worked for the plantation owned. Bertha cried and begged for her daughter to be let go."Strip her!" The man holding. A soft breeze tickled strands of my coppery hair that had fallen from the messy bundle I’d clipped at the back of my head. This place wasn’t scary at all, it was beautiful. I closed my eyes, just letting the feeling soak in, and heard… crying? I opened my eyes and looked around for the source. I couldn’t see anyone so I listened again. It was faint, but I definitely heard soft, gasping sobs. I took a few steps down the path towards the sound. “Hello?” I called, softly. The sobbing continued and I followed the sound until I saw a figure kneeling by a grave. Should I see if they were okay? I mean sure, someone crying over a grave in a cemetery wasn’t exactly unheard of, but, in the middle of the night? What if they were planning to hurt themselves or something? I crept closer. “Hello? Are you okay?” The figure tensed, startled by my voice, and turned to look over his shoulder. I could see it was a man now. His eyes glistened in the moonlight. He looked about my age, early-twenties,.
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