The washing of the clothes

Τoday is the day of the massacre and many people gathered to see the sacrifice. But I had open a hole in the fence from the previus night and I had pushed the mother with her baby to get out of there.
Now my father is cursing and shouting, as it is the meat that had been promised gone. While I secretly smile behind his pants pretending I’m searching with him, looking away to see if those living things had managed to escape!
But even if they escaped from the slaughter, I fear that someone else could be able to catch them, and easily would butcher them to fill his hunger, or he would keep the child to work for him instead, in his fields.
But my friends told me that they found them, smothered under the river. There was a bridge there, but somebody had spoiled it. Nobody cared to pass them opposite, even if they were watching them groaning into the waters of the river.

We are as free as our responsibility.

“The washing of the clothes”