The dress was a mark of shame, a constant reminder that her life had less value than those around her. The final shame was a tattoo that is branded on...the upper arm of all slaves. A red trio of loops. "The Slave Sigil." A permanent form of evidence that shows you where once a slave, even if one was to escape their slave leathers.Finally after a long time the stains lifted from the sheets and flowed down the river. Alicia picked up the sheets and forced them into a straw basket so they where. "It'sbad enough that you argue with me at every turn, but now you think you canjust run away?"I didn't reply, there didn't seem to be much point. Instead we drove forthe next five minutes in silence, or rather Sara drove while I sat withcheeks burning and a whole new sense of worthlessness. For some reason mymind focused on one of the deep pleats that ran ornately down "my" tartanskirt, a girlie feature on a girlie garment. Its delicate nature seemed tosum up my situation.Sara broke the silence. More

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