I wanted to share a little snippet of my upcoming book, Cece. What I’m sharing is allowed for a younger than 18 audience, but the rest of the book is for mature audiences. Sorry if I’m being repetitive. I just don’t want to get anyone in trouble. I promise you the book will stick around.
The snippet is the beginning of Chapter 1, but it’s not the full chapter! ❤
“She’s at it again,” Hanna hissed under her breath.
The older woman limped her way past Cece, a tray in hand. Cece glanced and saw the broken china pieces splayed on the metal tray. Another tea set was destroyed all because the Missus couldn’t keep her temper. Hanna grunted in pain as she chucked the pieces of china out the kitchen back door.
Cece busied herself over the fire, readying another kettle of tea. Tara, another one of the house slaves, bustled about, gathering the last remaining china set. The three of them glanced at each other before setting up the new tray of tea.
“Here’s praying the missus doesn’t have another fit,” Hanna grumbled.
She lifted the tray and began to limp away, but tripped. Cece grabbed the tray before the set fell. She shook her head at Hanna.
“You need to check on that leg,” she said, “I have the tea. You go and get your leg taken care of. Did she use her cane again?”
Hanna huffed and looked away. She didn’t need to answer. They all knew that if the missus was upset over anything, no matter how small, they were going to get the cane. Hanna was lucky she didn’t open her mouth to make a smart retort over the woman’s tantrum.
“You don’t need to be going in there, Cece,” the older woman shook her head, “he’s in there and you know how he is.”
Cece took a steadying breath. She stood up straighter and nodded. She tugged the tray free from Hanna’s hands and began to step out of the kitchen.
“I know what he’s like,” she agreed, “and that’s why it’ll be me and not her.”
Cece nodded to Tara. The smaller, younger girl was wringing her hands with her apron. She was beautiful, just the way he liked them. He specifically chose the beautiful girls to work in the house. His wife knew it too. His favorites were the ones who were difficult to train.
For the years since she was bought, Cece was surprised at how well she had been able to divert his attention away from her. He had yet to touch her, but she knew it was coming. And when he did, it was going to break her.
Her body was all she had left. He owned her in paper, but not in soul or mind. She refused to become one of the other girls; broken and willing to lie down for him just to keep their backs free from lashes. Cece was going to take every lash and worship them.
“Your body is a temple,” Nana whispered to her when she slept in the quarters, before joining the main house, “no man can touch it or control it without you saying so. You have a power that no other woman here has. They are survivors, but you are a fighter.”
Cece took those words to heart and kept them close to her bosom when the overseer instructed her into the house. She kept whispering them to herself every night, waiting for the right time and the smart way to fight back. She could run away if she wanted to. She knew the woods well and the hunting dogs knew her scent but loved her. They wouldn’t go after her, she told them not to if she did run.
But she couldn’t.