I looked down at my clasped hands, rubbing off clods of dried mud that had stuck during my work. My shovel rested against my hip, the rounded metal of the spade sunk deep into the thick clay alongside my feet. I was waiting at attention for the owner of this deposit to pass in his inspection of property. My mother stood by the pile of clay I had just dug up, her hands covered in an even thicker layer of mud that never washed off, even when we were let off work at night. My father was next to me, also holding a shovel. We stood along a line of similar workers holding shovels and standing over the clay piles they were kneading into soft bricks. My father nudged my arm and I glanced up into disapproving eyes. I quickly looked back down at the ground and stopped my fiddling. The squelch of horses hooves walking by made me hold my breath. The master of this clay field always made his way through inspections fairly quickly, hating the sogginess of the mud, and the heat of the sun that made him sweat through his fine cloths. He always made sure his glaring blue eyes pierced holes through us as he passed by to instill fear in us measly  slaves. If one of us was not working up to his standards, then he would have one of his foremen beat us into the mud while he watched. My father, mother, and I were usually passed by quickly, though. Constantly working hard not to be seen. On this day something changed. I was a girl of thirteen, and I had just recently become a woman. My bleed coming in the night to my mother's delight, and my fear. Her quiet explanations while my traumatized father sat outside our clay hut had calmed my belief that I was dying. My body had been changing in ways I did not understand for a little while. My waist had thinned more, and my hips jutted out more. I had never truly rounded due to lack of food, but I was obviously blossoming into a woman. 

The master stopped his horse before my family, and I finally was forced to take a deep breath. He was quiet for an uncomfortable moment before talking to the foreman. "Bring that girl to me so I may look at her." I heard the squelch of the foreman's boots through the mud as he approached me. His large fingers wrapped around my arm and jerked me forward. I almost fell, but his grip held me up while I was propelled toward the side of the horse. "Look at me girl." The master ordered. His voice was quiet. I shivered in fear, not knowing what to do. I slowly lifted my eyes to his face and stay frozen. His blue eyes seem to stare into my soul. They seem to produce the ice keeps me stuck staring back. A smug smile spreads across his face and he looks back to the man hold me. She will come with. In the blink of an eye I am jerked forward again and dragged along as the master continues with his inspection. I hear my mother call out and my father tell her to quiet herself. I turn back to look at them, and find that my father is holding my mother back and covering her mouth to keep her screams of anguish from reaching the men dragging me away. Tears stain both of their cheeks and my own as I slide through the mud. I try in vain to stop the man pulling me, and pry my arm from his constricting grip. I am dragged and dragged for what seems like forever. A never ending field of mud. Flashes of blue eyes and pain, I scream and sit upright in bed.