Transporting This Black Owned White Girl

I stumbled out into the sunshine and struggled to find my bearings.  William led me firmly by the leash to a pickup parked near the house.  Without letting go of my tether he lifted a dog cage out of the bed of the truck and tossed it onto the ground next to me. 

“You should relieve yourself before I secure you for the trip,” he said.  He led me to the side of the truck so the vehicle no longer blocked my view of the street.  I knew what he wanted – he wanted me to squat in full view of the neighbors.  I pleaded with him to let me go behind the truck but he ignored me.  “It’s a long trip and you won’t have another chance to go. If you foul or soil the crate I will beat you and you will not enjoy it.”

I whimpered as I squatted in the driveway.  The sound of my bodily fluids pouring onto the gravel driveway was so humiliating I wanted to die.  I tried to turn my head away from the street but William grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head around.  I saw a couple staring at me as they walked past the entrance to the estate. 

When I was finished peeing, William dragged me toward the crate and opened the small door.  I had severe doubts that I could manage to squeeze into the crate itself but the opening looked completely inadequate.  I looked at William in a panic.  He picked up the crate and lifted it over my head.

“Lift your arms,” he said.  I put my hands over my head as if I was being apprehended and William fit the crate over me like I was being fitted for a tight gown.  I curled my hands and ducked my head as he lowered the crate over my body.  As the entrance descended to my waist I started curling up inside of it and William tipped it over onto the gravel.  I had to work to get me knees past the entrance but I finally managed it and William jammed my feet firmly inside as I squeezed into the inadequate space.  I felt the door close on my toes and heard the lock snap shut.  I could barely breathe. 

William lifted me into the bed of the truck and slammed the rear gate shut.  I was face down with my knees pinned up under me and the wire grates that lined exterior of the cage dug into my skin.  I began to panic as I realized that I would have to endure this unbearably cramped space for the duration of the trip to wherever I was going.  The smell of the steel and dirt of the bed of the pickup filled my nostrils and I choked on the dust.  The sun blazed down on my back and the heat from the truck radiated on all sides. I broke into a sweat immediately, as much from fear and panic as from the heat.

I didn’t hear William climb into the cab of the pickup but I felt the vehicle lurch forward when he hit the gas.  My cage slid back into the tailgate and tipped over so now I was no longer faced down but on my side.  Although this was a much less painful position for the journey, the hot metal of the truck bed scorched my torso as my weight pressed my flesh through the wire sides of the dog crate.  I squirmed to relieve the pressure and the pain of my predicament but the crate jostled from one side of the truck bed to the other as William turned from the driveway onto the street and accelerated.  I couldn’t tell if the hot metal of the truck bed was just burning my skin or scraping it away as the crate slid back and forth.

It was going to be a long trip.