I AM FREE

Copyright © 2015 Regina Bartley

All rights reserved

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity between actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any uses of locales, or events are used fictitiously.

Cover Design: Sprinkles on Top Studio

Formatted by: Ready, Set, Edit

Dedication

For my niece Kelsey, who has taught me so many things.

You’ve taught me that unconditional love is for everyone.

You’ve taught me to see beauty in all things.

You’ve taught me that friendship is boundless.

You’ve taught me to fight for what I want.

K- Kind

E- Exquisite

L- Loving

S- Strong

E- Extraordinary

Y- You are so many things, but most of all you are YOU!

I love you!

Prologue

Grace- Fifteen Years Old

My faith was the reason I kept from killing my father. His fists were heavy, and served their purpose. They were forceful, and though my mother witnessed, she never said a cross word or any word in my defense. I sometimes doubted her love for me. She was just scared, I told myself. She knew that if she spoke up, that her punishment would be far worse than mine, at least that was the excuse that I told myself. The one I repeated over and over to cover up her unexplainable parenting skills. Hidden behind that apron was a woman that was just as frightened as me, but despite it all she still loved him.

And somewhere deep down inside, I despised her for it.

From the moment I was old enough to remember, I wanted to run away. Not because I hated my life. Not because I hated my Mother or my older brother Thomas. I had love for them, somewhere hidden, no matter how hollow they were inside. I loved my home, and our farm, the entirety of it all. Our way of life was different, but I never dreamed of anything more. The only reason that I ever wanted to leave was because of him. My father.

The summer after my fifteenth birthday I almost did it. If I could have walked or talked after his beating then I would have.

  Early morning sunrises in Oklahoma were picture perfect, and that morning was no different. I made sure to be up extra early. As in before the rooster crowed. I knew it was going to be a hot one, and I had one hour before I had to begin my chores. Never once had I considered defying my father, but I wanted to go swimming and he’d said no. He always said no. Girls weren’t supposed to wear suits that bared their skin for anyone to see. It was preposterous, and quite surely the biggest sin. I was allowed to wade in the water but had to wear my skirt. There was absolutely no fun in that.

I knew the risk when I snuck down to the pond that morning, but thought I’d never get caught. I was extra quiet and was sure that I’d covered all of my tracks. Ducking low behind the shed, and making sure to walk along the far side of the tree line so that I wouldn’t stir up the animals. My father never went down to the pond. It was too far of a hike for his bad leg.

I had it all figured out. I would not get my hair wet, and I would leave my dry clothes on the dock so that I could put them on once I was done. The plan seemed flawless, but what I didn’t suspect was someone else catching me. The pond backed up to the Turner farm, and Katie Turner and I had never gotten along. She was a snobby piece of work who hated me with a passion. I never understood why, but it only made me dislike her worse. Her, and her beautiful tan legs that she showed off every chance she got. She never gave me a chance to be her friend, never tried to like me. She made fun of me and made sure to make my life a living hell.

Splashing around in the water, I hadn’t heard her sneak up to the dock. I was too busy relishing in my morning of fun. I was unaware of her cruel intentions.

She’d taken my dry clothes and ran home with them. Leaving me with nothing. I’d try to call after her, but was too late. The only clothing covering my skin was my bra, a white tank top, and my underwear. My father was going to kill me. I knew that he was.

We weren’t really the religious type of family. I mean we believed in God, but we didn’t go to church. Dad said that the only organized religion that we needed was prayer before supper. My dad had his own set of rules for us to follow. He was a strict man, and he firmly believed that a woman’s body was not to be tampered with or to be seen by the eyes of anyone other than her husband. We wore long skirts and collared shirts. We were allowed to wear short sleeves if the weather was hot, but only then. We never wore makeup or did anything to make ourselves appear older. It was unheard of. I never cared much about those rules. I followed them, because I had to. I never complained, at least not to my father’s face. It was all I had ever known.

But sometimes he went overboard, and this was one of those times.

I crept back to the house knowing full well that anyone who would see me would be able to see right through the clothes I was wearing. I had no choice. I had to get back.

The bottom of my long blond hair was dripping wear the ends had touched water. My hands could only cover so much, and when I stepped up to the back door my father was awake and staring at me through the screen with cold eyes.

“Shed now!” he demanded.

His stare alone was enough to scare me, but that voice. It haunted my dreams.

My head hung low as I tiptoed on the dry ground all the way to the shed. I could feel his eyes burning into me from behind all though I couldn’t see them. The aluminum door made a creaking nose as it opened, and a loud banging noise when it slammed shut.

“You have defied me child, and you’ll take your punishment.” The sweat dripped from the creases in his forehead and the whites of his eyes were devil red.

“I’m sorry,” I started to say with a shaky voice.

“Don’t speak!” He yelled. “Your body is not to be seen, and I will make sure that you never want to show it again.”

I started to sink to my knees in fear, but he screamed for me to stand up straighter.

Many times I had taken a beaten from my father, but never was he this mad. Never had he looked at me with such disgust. I feared for my life, as I stood there barefoot on the hard ground.

He grabbed the first tool he could find hanging on the wall. The rake. He twisted it around so that the metal end was in his hands and the wooden handle was sticking out into the air as if he were holding a bat. “Turn around.” He ordered.

I knew what he was about to do, but in my mind I had hoped that he wouldn’t be too hard on me.

I was wrong.

The first hit to the back of my legs took me to the ground. It completely knocked me off of my feet, and though I screamed it did no good. I was barely able to catch my breath.

“Stand up!” He yelled again, and I did as I was asked. Defying him would only make it worse.

I knew when the next hit was coming because I could hear the whoosh of air as he swung the rake towards my body.

Over and over, he hit me.

Each time my body went to the ground. The screaming played like a broken record in my head. At times it didn’t even sound like me. I sounded like a little girl. Not the teenage girl that I was.

The pain was so bad that I blacked out a couple of times. But the next swing would make me conscious again.

I couldn’t get up. I couldn’t move. My body was glued face down into the dirt floor of the shed. Sobs racked my body, and I shook so much that my shoulders banged against the floor.

No one came. Not my mother or my brother.

I never tried to fight back or get up because it wouldn’t have done any good. There was no way I could even walk. The bones in my legs from my knees down felt like they were shattered. I knew they weren’t, but it felt like it.