"You know not what I feel! Be gone!"

Bertha cried out finding her arms and legs tangled in the mosquito nets surrounding her bed when she woke. She was coated in a sheen of perspiration.

"Why do you cry out child?"

Anchal was her nanny. She was a larger woman, her skin darker than most of the other servants. Her thick hair was tied back. She pulled the netting away from Bertha, helping to untangle her. Bertha clung to Anchal.

"It's the voices. They say such terrible things."

"No need to worry child. It just the jumbies come to tease you in your sleep."

Anchal stroked Bertha's long black hair.

"Shh, Ms. Anchel you shouldn't say such things its heresy."

"Nonsense child, jumbies have been around long before your

Christian cunumunu come here, and long after they leave. Now close your eyes child. It is time for children to be asleep."

Anchel hummed a toon from her own childhood and Bertha's eyelids drooped then finally closed.

Bertha's next memory would be stretching off the nights unrest and sitting up and looking over the bay below. She could hear birds calling and the ring of a ships bell down in the harbor below. She leapt out of bed and leaned out the window breathing in the fresh ocean air. She could see the HMS Vigilant docked. The men of the royal navy clambering over her decks. What sights have you seen? She wondered silently. Beside the royal navy ship floated the SS Antoinetta. She had no cannons, but it was the ship she focused on, and her smile grew wide. Then she whispered a poem she'd just learned a piece of:

"Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship, Yet she sailed softly too: Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze— On me alone it blew."

"You haven't been neglecting your studies in my absence, I see."

Bertha's eyes lit up as she turned and saw her father.

"Papa!"

She leapt into his arms.

"I knew you were home papa, I recognized the bell!"

"There's my clever girl. How has everything been? And what is that there on your cheek?"

Bertha pulled away and let her black locks fall over the fresh bruise.

"Nothing papa, I tripped."

"Nonsense child, do not lie, it is wicked."

Bretha turned her head further away. Her father grabbed her chin and forced her to face him.

"No papa."

"Someone has struck you. Who was it? Was it that nuisance nanny? How dare she? She must be whipped at once."

"It was not her, papa!"

"Then who, who has struck you?"

"It was mama, she is acting so strange."

"I told you to stay away from her, why did you not listen to me?"

"She's my mama!"

"She is sick Bertha."

"She looked better papa, she smiled at me and waved me close, she hugged me, said she loved me, asked me to sing then she slapped me and shoved me away. Why does she act so strange papa?"

"She is sick Bertha, like I told you. You mustn't see her like this."

"She is my mama."

Her father sighed. He turned and lifted a package from her dresser.

"I found you something delightful."

"Oh papa!"

Bertha tore the paper to shreds in her excitement and pulled out a purple silk dress. Underneath was an amethyst necklace.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes papa, oh yes!"

Bertha hugged the dress to herself and spun in a circle imaging herself at a ball.

"I thought you could wear it to the summer ball."

"Oh yes papa I will!"

"Now I must be away to check the cargo, the trip was profitable."

"Tell me about the pirates you saw!"

Bertha chased after her father.

"There are no pirates, the Royal Navy has caught them all and hung them at the end of a rope. Now go back to your room and get dressed. Young ladies shouldn't be running around in their bed clothes!"

"But papa."

"No buts, go get ready, If you are especially good we'll see about getting you a tour of the Vigilant. I'm sure they'll be happy to regale you with many a story of pirates."

The aforementioned tour did happen. The captain was a grizzled old sea dog, by all accounts. He happily told her of his many exploits including hunting pirates.

That night she kneeled on a bench beside the open window. The fresh salt air blowing the curtains and her dark hair about. She took deep breaths of it. It was so much cleaner than Spanish Town proper. The star lit sky formed an infinite horizon and she imagined being in command of a warship tracking down the rakish Captain McCloud. She had imagined him being a boy only four or so years older than her. He had flowing hair and the hardened muscles of a sailor. She had chosen McCloud because it sounded Scottish and she remembered the twitter her heart gave at last years summer ball when a Scottish boy had talked her ear off and she had gladly let him. This year she would be thirteen. She wasn't sure if she wanted to hang the Scottish rogue she imagined, or if she'd join forces with him. She heard the voice again. A dark and vile thing, it echoed in her head.

"He's going to do it again, as soon as father leaves. You should cut it off this time. Make him hurt."

She ignored it.

"You said no, and he still did it, and now you have that bruise on your face. You think any man is going to want to marry you?"

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Bite his nose off, make 'em bleed."

She covered her ears beginning to sob.

"Stop crying you weakling! That's all you are: weak, weak, weak."

She shook violently closing her eyes tightly, trying to make the voice go away.

"I'm part of you, I am you."

She saw something move in the shadows. She lunged at it with an almost feral growl. Then shouted as loudly as she could.

"Go away cursed thing! Go away from here!"

She could hear its laughter all around her it echoed in the room.

"I can't go away, I'm in you, I'm part of you!"

She collapsed to her knees on the fur rug, clawing at her shoulders with her nails.

That is when Anchel woke her. She was holding Bertha's hands at her sides forcibly.

"Wake up, wake up. It is a nightmare."

Bertha struggled fruitlessly, Anchel was her superior in both weight and strength.

"Let me go!"

"No little miss, not until you calm down, I won't have you hurtin' yourself."

Bertha took several deep breaths and color returned to her cheeks. Anchel relented finally.

"You must not hurt yourself because of bad dreams child."

Bertha sobbed into Anchel's shoulder and Bertha lay her down when she had drifted off.

Bertha's father stayed on at the plantation for spring and summer. He usually did this to wait for the harvesting of sugar cane and cotton. He'd then take his company's ships under guard of the Royal Navy to sell his wares and then return with fresh slaves to work the plantation. And thus was the yearly cycle. Usually the day after the midsummer's ball he'd leave on his long journey, leaving his children and his wife in the care of the house staff.

"Papa, must you leave tomorrow?"

"Your brother is too young, and I can trust no one else with these tasks."

"But pa-"

"No buts, little flower. I have a responsibility to the family to ensure the business is profitable and we get good slaves to work the land. I will bring you back something pretty."

Her father touched her cheek with his palm. Then turned his attention to a ledger. Bertha sniffled and left the office. Her eyes were fixed on the ground. Her brother waited for her as she rounded a corner.

"Three days and he'll be gone. Then we'll see what happens when you blame mother when you were told to blame a servant."

Bertha brushed past him without looking up and rushed into her room. She could hear metal dragging across the wood of her door.

"I have a key now. You will learn to be an obedient girl who minds her place and position."

She heard her brother's harshly whispered words through the door as she leaned against it. Her breathing was quick and short and she shook violently. His footsteps echoed off the stone floor along the hallway. Bertha rubbed her arms and sat on her bed.

Once she could move she pulled out her sewing and began working on stitches. She was almost done the work on her slip. The last stitch and she cut the thread with scissors. She locked at them. They were new, her father had bought them for her.

"They look sharp. Maybe sharp enough to stab someone. Put them under your pillow when you sleep."

It was the raspy voice from the dark corner of her room again. Her grip on the scissors tightened. And she bunched the fabric of her newly finished underclothes in her hand. She crept over and stabbed into the shadows.

"Good. Good. Practice."

She heard the voice again from another corner of her room.

"Silence!"

"I only speak to protect you. Do what I say and you'll hear from me no more this night."

She walked slowly backwards to her bed and slid the scissors under her pillow. She felt the presence recede.

Dusk on the eve of the ball found Bertha in her room with Anchal helping her get dressed in her gown.

"You look so beautiful young miss."

"I wish I wasn't. I should cut my face."

"You shouldn't say things like that."

"Why? I don't like being looked at by boys and men. If they stare let them stare at my scars."

"You just nervous. That all, young miss."

"If someone tries to hurt you, it's okay if you defend yourself right?"

"You protect you and yours."

"Thanks Anchel."

"You grown so much this last winter young miss. And at your age you won't need a Nanny."

"But I'll need a maid."

Bertha smiled at Anchel.

"You be right there, young miss."

"Thank you Anchel, enjoy your night off."

"You have fun young miss."

As such things go the ball was enjoyable, and young Bertha found her dance card full. At least four of the dances were taken up by a young Scottish man with whom she was acquainted previously. Some might think that amount of dances scandalous but Bertha was not bothered, nor was her partner. Occasionally she would catch a scowl from her brother. Bertha returned to the family estate earlier than her brother or father.

Bertha lay across her bed in her slip feet dangling off the side. Looking up at her painted ceilings. A smile on her lips and her hands on her midriff. She should have heard the scratches of metal on metal, or her heavy wooden door opening. Suddenly she felt a hand on her throat squeezing.

"You are a worthless whore. I saw the look you were giving that Scottish whelp."

She gasped for breath but found none as her brother forced her down into the bed.

"He'll kill you this time, if you're lucky."

She heard a familiar raspy voice.

"Time for you to learn your place whore."

She could hear the rip of cloth.

"Make him bleed. Like he made you bleed."

She closed her eyes the room started spinning. She reached out her hand grasping the scissors she had hidden under the pillow. With a sudden burst of strength, she pulled them out and stabbed blindly at her brother. She felt the impact of the scissors then the sickening sound of flesh being sliced open. The warmth of a liquid on her hands. She heard him cry out and then her neck was released. When she finally opened her eyes her brother was stumbling backwards holding the right part of his chest. Blood was gushing from a wound. Once he regained his balance their eyes met and she saw only rage in them.

She slid over her bed, almost falling on the opposite side. He lunged at her. His lunge left him tangled in a mosquito net and blankets.

"You are crazy just like mother. Father says she was a whore too."

She saw the metallic shine of keys on the floor and scooped them up and ran. She did not know where to go, all the servants were given the evening off, and the slaves weren't allowed in the house proper. She turned towards her mother's chambers. She could hear the uneven gait of her brother's hurried footsteps and the wheezing as he struggled for breath. Bertha's shaking hands fumbled the keys. She found the right one and the door swung open. Inside she could hear an almost animalistic growl.

She held her breath. As silently as she could took up a place beside the door. She could hear the shuffling of feet and labored breathing from the interior.

"Cursed witch!"

Bertha jolted at her mother's outburst.

"Ungrateful little whore."

Bertha clutched the scissors to her chest.

"I should have smothered you in your crib."

She saw the silhouette of her brother enter the darkened room.

"Mother isn't going to save you."

Her brother whispered. Bertha's knuckles turned white as she clutched the scissors. She pressed her back against the wall.

"Come out now and I will only beat you within an inch of your life instead of to death."

Her brother stopped moving suddenly. Both of their eyes moved towards the sound of something moving deeper in the room. Bertha took the distraction as an opportunity and she lunged at her brother's back. Both hands coming down with an overhanded thrust on his shoulder and back the scissors parted his flesh easily. He screamed.

Before either of the siblings knew what was happening a pair of hands emerged from the darkness and wrapped around his neck.

"Die demon!"

The words were followed by a feral growl. Richard struggled to pry her hands off his neck. He gasped for breath much the same way Bertha had done earlier. Bertha released the scissors and from the hallway picked up a heavy statue. She crept behind her mother and slammed it down on the back of her neck and shoulders. Her mother collapsed on the ground with a shriek. Richard stumbled backwards and cried out he fell on the pair of scissors still lodged in his back. Bertha rushed out, locking the doors.

"Should have let her kill him."

Bertha ignored the voice and kneeled beside her brother who at his point had rolled on his front and was trying to pull himself away from her. He left a streak of blood on the floor. She wrapped her hands around the scissors and he cried out once again. He stopped pulling away. She twisted them.

"You will never touch me again. And mama did all of this, or next time I will stab you somewhere else. Now you know your place."

Richard could only nod and whimper in response.

After the incident, their father had no choice but to institutionalize their mother. Richard would find relief when he helped arrange the marriage of his sister to a noble named Rochester.