My people have done nothing but talk about this freedom we have gotten, and I will be the first to admit we have no idea what it is like to be free. As far back as we can remember, we have always had someone to tell us what to do. Now you say we have to take care of ourselves. I agree that the whipping was greatly resented, but how do we learn what to do if we have no direction? Do you know of someone that you trust that will help us learn to live the way our ancestors did, and to help my people to learn to live with this freedom you have given us? We have followed orders for so long, none of us has any idea how to give them and what to do to make you proud of our people." Mikey, if that is the case, then I will have to move your people somewhere where I know you won't be taken advantage of. I told you I won't put up with slavery in any form, and if I have to bring someone in to tell your people how to raise crops and how to work them, I would be just as bad as the ones who were here. Endless. After being unchained from the wall, Catharine no longer came to visit. She watched him though, he found the camera on a thorough inspection of his room. Two, actually, so there were no blind spots. She’d speak with him as well, her sensual voice floating out of the walls into his ears. He’d begged and pleaded for her to show herself, but it was to no avail, Catharine was as elusive as ever. Yet, through all this, he still craved her. His cravings, longings, musings were something he’d come to hate. He’d hear her voice and his insides would melt, butterflies would fill his stomach. ‘Catharine,’ he spoke into his empty cell, ‘I love you, I need you, please, please come to me!’ Sometimes he thought he heard her laugh, light and sweet, other times he was certain he’d become delusional. She’d left him a note pad and a pen, on which he scribbled love notes, and occasionally sketches of Catharine. He’d tear them out and send them to her with his empty meal dishes. He had a small.
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