Part 2My Bloodied Mother Rescued Me From The Depths

This wasn’t the first time a girl had been drowned in Coldwater Hollow.

According to Virgil, girls were just mouths to feed – they ate a lot, didn’t work as much, and by the time you raised one up, the grain it cost would be more than the price of a wife you could buy from outside.

Take my mom, for instance. She went to a top college, and she was sold off for barely two grand.

If you raised a girl from birth, between all the food and the work, it would cost you at least three or four thousand.

On top of that, farm-raised girls are tougher and darker from working under the sun – none of that fresh, pretty look you’d get from an outsider.

So, there usually weren’t girls in the village.

Aunt Martha was an exception. She’d been brought in along with her little five-year-old girl. They said her daughter was as pretty as a doll, with a porcelain complexion, and Uncle Harvey spoiled her, fed her the best, and didn’t let her do any chores.

By the time she was old enough, the men in the village would go visit her. Sometimes one at a time, sometimes in groups. Sometimes just her, sometimes with Aunt Martha too.

They always seemed so pleased afterward, and Uncle Harvey would sit by the door collecting coins, either a dollar or fifty cents a head. With Aunt Martha and her daughter around, Uncle Harvey never had to work in the fields.

I remember that the girl had already grown into a young woman by then. When the traffickers came around again, Uncle Harvey showed her off, and they bought her for a handful of fresh bills.

That money built their house.

When Uncle Harvey’s house went up, everyone was envious. Soon, they were all coming over to spend nights with my mother.

My mom was much prettier than Aunt Martha. They all said that if she had a daughter, she’d be even more beautiful.

But Mom never got pregnant again.