ER THAN WATER. But he made my blood spill like water. So I crossed waters to leave blood behind, hoping I wouldn't leave a trail for him to follow and find me. Still, when I am enjoying the fruits of freedom most, that is when I think I see him-in a crowd or just outside a darkened window-determined to have his slave returned.

AT ONE TIME, I WONDERED HOW HE WOULD HAVE FELT ABOUT CALLING ME HIS SON. The circumstances of my birth were not unusual. But, while many slaves may only hear rumors about their parentage... I know mine for sure. I am Percival Bishop, the bastard of my master, Joachim Bishop.

BUT I COULD NEVER TRULY BE HIS SON. I was born a slave. I was taught to think like a slave; to pray and dream like a slave; to hunger and thirst, to regard the possible and impossible like a slave. I must not forget that. Because now I must break that slave apart. I must make myself anew. Into a man. In my own image.