The days in Black Hollow followed the same pattern.
Wake up before sunrise.
Work until dusk.
Return to the barracks.
Sleep.
Then repeat it all the next day.
When she first arrived, Evelyn still counted the days. She made small marks on the wall beside her bed to keep track of how long she had been there.
She stopped counting after a few months.
Time no longer had any meaning.
In Black Hollow, people did not live for tomorrow. They only tried to make it through today.
That morning, the air felt colder than usual.
A thin fog still blanketed the plantation when the workers began lining up to head to the fields.
Evelyn walked beside Martha.
Ahead of them, a young woman carried a baby wrapped in a thin cloth.
The baby kept crying.
The woman tried to soothe him as she walked.
“Is he sick?” Evelyn asked.
Martha shook her head.
“He’s hungry.”
The woman turned around.
Her eyes looked exhausted.
“His name is Jacob.”
Evelyn nodded.
The baby probably wasn’t even a year old.
His body was tiny.
His little hands clutched the cloth wrapped around him.
“My name is Rose,” the woman said.
From that day on, Evelyn began to get to know Rose.
They often worked in the same field.
Rose always talked about her son.
About how Jacob smiled whenever he saw a bird.
About how the child laughed every time he heard the rain.
About how she hoped Jacob would not grow up in Black Hollow.
“If I ever manage to leave this place, I’ll take him to see the ocean.”
“Have you ever seen the ocean?” Evelyn asked.
Rose smiled.
“No.”
“Then how do you know it’s beautiful?”
“I don’t. I just want to believe there’s somewhere better than this.”
Evelyn did not answer.
She never allowed herself to think about the future.
Hope felt too dangerous.
Anyone who hoped for too much would break more easily.
Around noon, a wagon stopped in front of the big house.
Its arrival sent several overseers pacing back and forth.
The atmosphere on the plantation changed.
Martha stopped working.
Her face suddenly went pale.
“What is it?” Evelyn asked.
The older woman did not answer right away.
“Hopefully not today.”
“Today for what?”
Martha looked toward the big house.
“Sale day.”
Evelyn’s chest suddenly tightened.
She remembered what had happened some time ago.
A child’s sobs.
A mother’s screams.
Footsteps fading into the distance.
She turned toward Rose.
The woman was holding Jacob and whispering something in his ear.
That afternoon, all the workers were gathered in the yard.
The plantation owner stood with two men Evelyn had never seen before.
An overseer carried a large ledger.
The names were called one by one.
When Rose’s name was called, the woman immediately held Jacob tighter.
“No.”
The word came out softly.
The overseer called her name again.
Rose remained where she stood.
“Please.”
She shook her head.
“Please, don’t.”
The two men approached her.
Rose backed away.
Jacob began to cry.
“Please. He’s still so little.”
No one listened.
The overseer seized Rose by the arm.
The woman fell to her knees.
“I’ll work harder. I’ll do anything. Please don’t take my child.”
Evelyn felt her throat go dry.
She looked around.
Everyone had lowered their heads.
As if they had witnessed something like this far too many times.
Jacob cried even harder.
Rose held her child with all her strength.
One of the men tried to pry loose the little arms wrapped around his mother’s neck.
“No!”
Rose’s voice broke.
Tears streamed down her face.
“Please! Don’t separate us!”
Martha grabbed Evelyn’s hand.
Her fingers felt cold.
“Don’t move.”
“Are they going to sell him?”
Martha did not answer.
The answer was already painfully clear.
At last, Jacob was torn from his mother’s arms.
The child’s cries echoed throughout the yard.
Rose tried to chase after him.
An overseer held her back.
She screamed.
She cried.
She begged.
Her voice grew hoarse.
Yet no one showed any mercy.
The wagon slowly rolled away from the plantation.
Rose dropped to her knees in the dirt.
Her hands clawed into the mud.
Her eyes remained fixed on the road as it disappeared into the distance.
That night, no one heard her voice anymore.
She only sat in the corner of the barracks, hugging herself.
Evelyn approached her.
She sat beside the woman without saying a word.
Rose stared straight ahead.
“I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
Tears began flowing down her cheeks again.
“Am I a bad mother?”
The question left Evelyn speechless.
“No.”
“I couldn’t protect him.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
Rose gave a quiet laugh.
A laugh that sounded more painful than crying.
“In this place, a mother’s love means nothing.”
Those words continued to echo in Evelyn’s mind.
The night grew late.
One by one, the barracks’ residents began to fall asleep.
But Evelyn remained awake.
She looked toward the small window in the corner of the room.
In the distance, the forest looked dark.
The night wind stirred the leaves, creating a soft rustling sound.
She closed her eyes.
Then, for the first time, a new fear began to grow inside her.
What if she had a child of her own someday?
What if someone took that child away from her?
She opened her eyes.
Rose was still sitting in the same place.
Her gaze was empty.
That night, Evelyn understood a truth no one had ever taught her.
In Black Hollow, a mother had no rights over her own child.
And there was no suffering greater than watching someone tear away the person they loved most.