The following morning, Lilith reported to the head servant in the estate home. She was given a set of clothes, strictly for while she was in the home. The dress she was expected to wear was constricting and stifling in the hot Haitian morning. In addition, she was told to wear an apron and head dress which only added to her discomfort. As soon as she dressed, she was ushered into a washroom adjacent to the kitchen in the large estate home, loads of pots and pans and plates and flatware waiting for her to begin.
Lilith worked diligently at cleaning the dishes and meticulously placing them away in their designated spots. As she was nearing completion of her first task, Francis, the estate owner entered the washroom. He was an older man, in his late fifties, rotund and with a receding hairline typically hidden by his wig. He stood in the doorway between the washroom and the kitchen, watching Lilith for a moment. An awkward tension filled the kitchen and washroom, the other slave women shared glances amongst each other. Soon Lilith noticed the other workers making themselves scarce, leaving the kitchen for some task either instructed or implied. A heavy feeling came over her, she had been warned about this exact situation by her mother, her hands began to shake, and she felt as though she could not catch her breath. Francis entered the washroom and closed the door behind him, he walked over to the window near the large wash basin Lilith stood at and reached up to pull the curtains shut. Momentarily over his shoulder, Francis ran his eyes up and down Lilith’s figure, bringing a sick feeling to her stomach. Lilith averted her eyes from the Frenchman’s and searched the room. On a counter behind her, Lilith’s eye caught one of the large kitchen knives she had yet to clean. She reached her hands behind her onto the counter as Francis finished drawing the curtains. He turned towards her, looking her up and down with an unmistakable intent in his eyes.
“Let me introduce you to your new surroundings girl, there are a few things I’d like to teach you about serving a man such as myself.” Francis said, the words oozing from his mouth. He reached out a hand and placed it on Lilith’s shoulder. Then with a sudden force that took Lilith by surprise, Francis spun her around and shoved her into the counter. Francis pushed against her hard and her hip bones could feel the biting edge of the counter through her dress as Francis pushed harder and harder, lifting her feet from the floor. Lilith looked over, seeing the large kitchen knife laying on the counter, just out of reach. Francis began pulling at her dress and she squirmed involuntarily, he stopped moving momentarily and before Lilith could process what was happening, she felt his hand hit her square on the back of her head. The impact was hard enough that it forced her forehead into the cabinet above the counter.
“Don’t you try and pull away from me, I’ll take what I want girl.” Francis hissed through clenched teeth and resumed pulling up her dress. Lilith filled with rage, realizing this was the heinous treatment her mother had received for years and it was about to repeat with her. She stretched herself and could get a fingertip onto the handle of the knife. Then she felt Francis exposed her buttocks and push her dress hard against the back of her neck. The sound of him unbuckling his belt with his free hand sent a chill through her nerves, cutting so deep goosebumps rose all across her skin. She felt an urgent rush of panic and knew she had to stop him, or she would fall victim to Francis the same way her mother and surely many others had. Lilith kicked her right foot back hard, finding Francis’ knee with her heel. His leg buckled from the impact and his hand left Lilith’s shoulder and dress to hold his balance from falling. Lilith, using the leverage from her contact with Francis’ knee, lunged for the kitchen knife. With a solid grasp on the handle, Lilith pushed with everything she had off the counter with her other arm and turned toward Francis, slashing the knife hard. The edge of the knife found Francis’ brow and cut him across his nose and deep across his cheek. Francis reached his hands up, instinctively trying to grab Lilith’s arms to stop a second swing, but Lilith’s next attack was not a swing or slash. She plunged her arm in, stabbing Francis directly in his throat. The man’s eyes bulged, blood gushed and frothed from his neck as he tried to breathe. Lilith withdrew the knife and pushed Francis over onto the floor. Then, standing over him, Lilith stabbed again, this time into her attacker’s groin. She withdrew the blade, wiping the blood off with a dishrag from the wash basin. Breathless and shaking, Lilith dropped the rag onto Francis’ chest as he writhed on the ground attempting to hold both his groin and his throat while blood pooled around him on the washroom floor.
Lilith stood over Francis, watching him squirm, she felt no guilt, no pity, only a fiery rage. Then fear closed in around her. She could hear voices out beyond the kitchen and her anger was replaced by an icy chill that cut her to her core. Once Francis’ body was discovered she would be sought after and killed for his murder, it did not matter how the act had come about. She scooted a large wooden case of pots in front of the door, it took every ounce of strength she had in her slight frame and the better part of ten minutes. Once she was satisfied that the case would impede anyone easy access to the washroom, Lilith pulled the window open as far
