I, Frederick Douglass was born a slave. I had to start working at a young age. I didn't know who my father was, and I rarely saw my mother. On rare occasions, my mother would travel through the cold, dark forest to see me. Then one day she stopped coming, and I never saw her ever again.
As I aged, my work increased. Every time I gave in to my tiring legs, begging for a break, Master Covey would punish me. The slash of every whip would hurt like thousands of needles piercing through my skin.
"Here is a magical root. If you hold it in your hand, Covey will never be able to harm you."