Chapter Forty-Three
Eighteen years ago. Servilia carefully worked the sliver of wood under her toenails, teasing out the dirt and grime that had accumulated from the days walk. The thick, heavy chains that hung around her arms and legs threatened to drag her down to the ground and into the sweet escape that only sleep could offer, but she refused to fall. Not until she finished her grooming. A few feet away she heard one of the others mutter something under their breath. She ignored them. She knew how they felt. They thought of her nightly primping as a pathetic attempt to cling to civility. A relic of a life she no longer had. It was an accusation that she had no power to argue against. Like them, she was nothing. A slave. To be traded and sold. But even so, she would not become like the rest. She would no
- Writer
