Bella Perla

My name is Bella Perla. I turned just four years old only a few months ago, but my life already feels long. I was a two-year-old when they first raced me for money. Before anybody knew my name, I knew my life was going to be hard. Training isn’t easy, but I know what they want from me now – I have to run fast, and for as long they demand of me, and they will demand that effort with violence.  

I try to avoid the whip by running well, but it never seems to work. I’ve won a few races over the last year, and I’ve earned some money for my owners, but they keep asking me to run, and I don’t get a choice. So far, I’ve finished all my races, I’ve never fallen and never been allowed to stop. But today something feels different. Something isn’t right. 

The stalls open and I can’t seem to get my body to move like it should. I start slowly so I know I need to push myself harder to avoid the whip, but it just feels so much harder today. It takes all my energy to pull my legs up and through the air over and over again, but it’s not long before I can see the distance growing between my nose and the tails in front of me. 

I’m really trying to make it to the end, but my head is swimming and there is a sharp ache growing in my legs. It starts shooting from my heart and I want to stop. I need to stop. The next thing I know my legs are gone from under me. I can see the finish, but I’ll never make it there. I’ll never make it anywhere again. I tried so hard, but my heart couldn’t bear it. It broke. 

My name was Bella Perla. I was someone.