Chapter 21 the land of the rising sun, part one

I did this chapter as a school assignment. We read a book then had to add a chapter in somewhere in the prospective of a character we found interesting. I chose to add a new ending. The book was called "The Divine Wind
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The hot gushing blood spatters across the crying woman's face. She screamed and kicked at her captors, trying to run to her husband as the soldiers hit him with the butts of their guns. Her accent was thick as she begged them to stop. I turned away from the display of military discipline. The groceries were heavy and the sun hot. No one noticed me as much anymore. I felt like a ghost, drifting through the crowds of the shrieking, milling people haggling for food tickets and water.
 
I had become thinner from hard work and small rations. The new place where I worked hated me. Better then pity, I suppose. The very walls that had soaked up the cries and pain bore down on me, mirroring my shame. My old master and mistress were gone so what could I do? At first I shed tears before realising it was a waste of precious water but I slipped up sometimes still.
 
I once again dragged my feet and didn't look anyone in the eye. I didn't know how to respond to a war on such a scale. Perhaps if I had gone with my old mistress I could have protected her. But such thoughts were useless. A black woman born in sin would have never been let passed the gate, let alone get a passport. The war had changed the way people appraised me. Nobody saw me. Was I nothing but a shadow? Hollow. Only one person ever noticed me.
 
Jack had gone to war. He had gotten me this job, kissed me goodbye and wiped my tears away. But he could never rid the darkness away that rotted within me since my first breath.
 
How can anyone be so unfree? Such a privilege had never been mine. And yet from my observations no one in my new household was free. Oh how they pretended, strived to convince themselves by restricting others even more as if it would unchain their own lives. The fine line of control and freedom. Which is better? Are they synonymous together?
 
I had my knowledge and ideas. This was my freedom no one could restrict. I sat on the cot that acted as my bed and turned on the old radio Jack had given me for my 22nd birthday. I closed my eyes, my old soul hands taking up the familiar habit of a thankless task. The song that played lulled me to a certain kind of peace. I had heard it before. It was Jacks and I song.
 
Tears fought their way out of my eyes, sticking wetly on my lashes. Jack was the only person who really paid attention to me.