is my sister. I swallowed her blood right along with my mother's milk. The first thing I heard afternot hearing anything was the sound of her crawling up the stairs. She was my secret company untilPaul D came. He threw her out. Ever since I was little she was my company and she helped mewait for my daddy. Me and her waited for him. I love my mother but I know she killed one of herown daughters, and tender as she is with me, I'm scared of her because of it. She missed killing mybrothers and they knew it. They told me die-witch! stories to show me the way to do it, if ever Ineeded to. Maybe it was getting that close to dying made them want to fight the War. That's whatthey told me they were going to do. I guess they rather be around killing men than killing women,and there sure is something in her that makes it all right to kill her own. All the time, I'm afraid thething that happened that made it all right for my mother to kill my sister could happen again. Idon't know what it is, I don't know who it is, but maybe there is something else terrible enough tomake her do it again. I need to know what that thing might be, but I don't want to. Whatever it is, itcomes from outside this house, outside the yard, and it can come right on in the yard if it wants to.

　　So I never leave this house and I watch over the yard, so it can't happen again and my motherwon't have to kill me too. Not since Miss Lady Jones' house have I left 124 by myself. Never. Theonly other times — two times in all — I was with my mother. Once to see Grandma Baby putdown next to Beloved, she's my sister. The other time Paul D went too and when we came back Ithought the house would still be empty from when he threw my sister's ghost out. But no. When Icame back to 124, there she was. Beloved. Waiting for me. Tired from her long journey back.

　　Ready to be taken care of; ready for me to protect her. This time I have to keep my mother awayfrom her. That's hard, but I have to. It's all on me. I've seen my mother in a dark place, withscratching noises. A smell coming from her dress. I have been with her where something littlewatched us from the corners. And touched. Sometimes they touched. I didn't remember it for along time until Nelson Lord made me. I asked her if it was true but couldn't hear what she said andthere was no point in going back to Lady Jones if you couldn't hear what anybody said. So quiet.

　　Made me have to read faces and learn how to figure out what people were thinking, so I didn'tneed to hear what they said. That's how come me and Beloved could play together. Not talking. Onthe porch. By the creek. In the secret house. It's all on me, now, but she can count on me. I thoughtshe was trying to kill her that day in the Clearing. Kill her back. But then she kissed her neck and Ihave to warn her about that. Don't love her too much. Don't. Maybe it's still in her the thing thatmakes it all right to kill her children. I have to tell her. I have to protect her.

　　She cut my head off every night. Buglar and Howard told me she would and she did. Her prettyeyes looking at me like I was a stranger. Not mean or anything, but like I was somebody she foundand felt sorry for. Like she didn't want to do it but she had to and it wasn't going to hurt. That itwas just a thing grown-up people do — like pull a splinter out your hand; touch the corner of atowel in your eye if you get a cinder in it. She looks over at Buglar and Howard — see if they allright. Then she comes over to my side. I know she'll be good at it, careful. That when she cuts itoff it'll be done right; it won't hurt. After she does it I lie there for a minute with just my head.

　　Then she carries it downstairs to braid my hair. I try not to cry but it hurts so much to comb it.

　　When she finishes the combing and starts the braiding, I get sleepy. I want to go to sleep but Iknow if I do I won't wake up. So I have to stay awake while she finishes my hair, then I can sleep.

　　The scary part is waiting for her to come in and do it. Not when she does it, but when I wait for her to. Only place she can't get to me in the night is Grandma Baby's room. The room we sleep inupstairs used to be where the help slept when whitepeople lived here. They had a kitchen outside,too. But Grandma Baby turned it into a woodshed and toolroom when she moved in. And sheboarded up the back door that led to it because she said she didn't want to make that journey nomore. She built around it to make a storeroom, so if you want to get in 124 you have to come byher. Said she didn't care what folks said about her fixing a two story house up like a cabin whereyou cook inside. She said they told her visitors with nice dresses don't want to sit in the same roomwith the cook stove and the peelings and the grease and the smoke. She wouldn't pay them nomind, she said. I was safe at night in there w............