A couple days later, I was working at the pool, it was evening, near the end of my shift. I did not see what happened. I was facing away, while entering a food order at the bar. Behind me, I heard Steve start shouting something derogatory toward one of the slaves, like he often did. I was startled by a crash and a thud. I slowly turned around with the fear of what I might see, and saw that Steve had broken a champagne bottle on Charlene’s head. She was lying on the ground by the pool surrounded by blood.
The shock made me forget what I was doing. I instinctively went to clean up the bottle while she was lying there, dying of horribly disturbing head wound, and soaked in champagne.
I could not believe what I was doing even while I was doing it. I have become so submissive, I thought. Charlene had been laughing just a moment ago. Now she may be dead. I was kneeling down next to her cleaning up pieces of bottle, but I could not look at her. I was avoiding the blood like it was vomit or some other normal mess I did not want to step in.
Steve was laughing about it. Making jokes to his friend about how she went down, the sound of the crack her skull made. He was so proud of himself. I wanted to throw up.
Something switched inside me. I picked up the broken neck of the bottle. It had a rather sharp end on it. I examined the sharpness of the edge as I felt a disconnected rage building inside me. All of the anger over our situation, all of the abuse we suffered, came together, and I knew immediately what I had to do. It seemed at the time that there was no other option. It was so clear to me. Steve had to be stopped.
Steve was yelling at no one. Ranting about the incompetent slaves. How they cannot even get his drink right. It was all so petty. He came over and yelled in my face. About how he should kill me too, and we are not worthy of his presence. I am not even sure what he said. By this time I was not processing his abuse. I was not scared. Time slowed down. My attention and action were focused. Everything was in slow motion. I was still crouched down with the bottle. I knew I just had to wait till the right moment.
He turned away from me, and I sprang onto his back grabbing the top of his head and stabbed the bottle as hard as I could into his neck. I felt his body go down below me and I rode him to the ground. There was so much blood pouring out of him, more than Charlene. Their blood began mixing, and spilling into the pool.
I sat there on top of him for a moment, trying to contemplate the consequences of what I had done, but all I could do is look at this scene and think how, just a moment ago, everything was normal. Now everything had changed.
I felt relief even though I did not know if he would die. I feared they would fix him up, and he would have his revenge on me. Even so, the stress was released. I felt liberated in a sense I cannot describe. I had taken action.
A couple of the guests came running at me. I do not know where the bottle went, it was not in my hand anymore. I crouched and covered my head instinctively, but they only grabbed me, then led me away from the scene. They put me in a bathroom, and told me to stay until someone came to get me.
I had blood all over me. After a moment of shock at the image of myself in the mirror, I began quietly washing up. My actions were automatic, I saw something that needed to be done, and my body started doing it. I felt, as if, I was not controlling my actions. My mind was in turmoil, but at the same time I felt calm and decisive.
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