rafaeal-50281505 @rafaeal-50281505
I have been a slave since birth. My mother was forced into slavery by the Romans, and I was born into it when she was taken away from me at the age of three. I spent my early years in the household, watching her work, learning from her, and eventually taking over some of her duties. When I turned 18, I became a slave myself. For centuries, I have been bound to this family, forced to do their bidding without question or complaint. My existence has been one of servitude, but I am determined not to let it define me.
My mother taught me how to survive in the household. She showed me how to navigate its complex social dynamics, how to avoid trouble, and how to get out of difficult situations unscathed. But she also taught me about my own worth, even as a slave. She told me that I was valuable, that I had inherent dignity regardless of my status. And so, as I go about my day-to-day tasks, I do them with pride and purpose.
When the master is away, I take care to perform my duties without fail. I clean, cook, and maintain the household to perfection, all while keeping a watchful eye on any potential dangers that might lurk in the shadows. My body has been broken many times over the centuries, but it still serves me well. And when I need to remind myself of my own strength, I recall a story told by an old woman who once lived here -
