When he was finally out of breath the beating stopped. I thought it was over. Usually when he was wore out; he would break something and slam the door on his way out.

I was wrong again.

Just when I thought it was over, I felt cold sticks just below my neck. Then pressure. The metal end of the rake was being dug into my skin, full force. He scraped the tips from my shoulder blades to my butt bone. What little clothing I was wearing tore into shreds around me, and I tried to cry out. I tried. The sound was mute though. It never left my body, but shrilled in my brain.

The warm wetness of blood covered my back.  I could feel it leaking down my sides. There was a slam of the door, but that was the last thing I remembered when the darkness took over.

My back must have quit bleeding at some point, because when I woke up and moved mere inches it felt dried and scabbed. Like my back was one big sore. I had lain there for hours I assumed, because my legs wouldn’t move. My brain knew that they needed to, but my body wouldn’t listen.

Finally sometime in the night my mother showed up with some aspirins and a glass of water. My father had gone to bed so she came to get me. She helped me too my feet and then to my bed, which took us forever. She didn’t ask if I needed a doctor, because that was out of the question. She barely even looked at me. Probably for fear that she might actually feel an ounce of guilt for leaving me lying there in that condition all day. I could’ve been dead and no one would have known, or cared.

Once I learned that I could walk on my aching legs, I knew that nothing was broken. But it may has well have been. It hurt just the same, and if nothing else, my heart was.

My heart was broken, and what little thread of love I had for my father was gone completely. I’d never care for that man again, no matter what.

The evil man that called himself my father would never be. He would always be a monster in my eyes. He could never live up to those words, and I hoped that one day he would meet his match. That someone would teach him a lesson that he’d never forget.

When my mother waited for me to put my legs up onto my bed, she finally looked at me but only because I made her. I glared so deep at her eyes that they were forced to look in my direction.

She said, “You can take tomorrow off from chores since you’re sick.” Then she walked out my door.

That was it. I could have one lousy day off from chores.

Yippy.

There was no remorse or love, only one smart remark. She wouldn’t even offer to help me clean up.

I would’ve liked to have said screw you, but I didn’t have the energy or the will power.

That was the night that I realized that she was just as heartless as he was, and I vowed that I would leave that place as soon as I turned eighteen. All the times that I wanted to runaway never compared to this one. Soon it would be real. I would get out of this mess of a life, and never look back.

And that was what I did.

1

Grace

The morning of my eighteenth birthday my mom made a big breakfast, same as she had in years before. Everyone sat around the kitchen table to eat before the sun even came up. Mom told me I could have the day off from my chores, and even though I could tell dad was against it he still nodded his head and agreed. The frown lines on his forehead had grown deeper with age and anger. I tried not to stare, because his eyes were always filled with such hatred and evilness. He could make you flinch with one look. I glanced around the room, anywhere but there.

I knew that things would be a little bit different once I turned eighteen, and became an adult. But being a prisoner in this lifestyle wasn’t one of those changes. If they had their way, I’d be stuck there doing chores for the rest of my life. I’d have no friends, and would know nothing of the life outside of this town.

My dad was going to see to it that I always obeyed his every command. The only difference now was that I was old enough to date. Not that I had any plans to do it. Plus there would be a long list of rules and guidelines that would follow right along with it. He would demand that the boy be from our community, a hard worker, and someone with strong values and morals. In other words, he’d want me to be with a younger version of himself.

Right?

Like that was going to happen.

His old fashioned lifestyle was too much for me, way too much. I wouldn’t settle for anyone unless they were his complete opposite. Things had changed over the last one hundred years. People didn’t court anymore. My mom didn’t leave me completely out in the cold when she taught me my studies, but there were tons of things that I’d be figuring out on my own. I could only hope that she wasn’t filling my head full of lies though, because after tonight I would be a member of society. Not just a lovely member of this household. Despite my lack of social skills, I felt like my grasp on reality or what lay beyond the twenty-mile radius of town was crystal clear.

I wasn’t about to spend another night in this house, under this roof, with that man. I peeked up from my fork once and saw him glaring at my mother. She just sat there like her normal robot self. Smiling as if she didn’t notice. I wanted to storm off from the table, but I knew that would only mean pain for me. It was all the more reason for me to get out.

The next eighteen hours couldn’t come fast enough.

That night I packed one duffel bag of my things, and left my home in Oklahoma.

Finally.

I had saved the ten dollars that my aunt had sent me in a birthday card every year since I was old enough to read them. She would never know how much that money truly saved me. It was the only money I had, and it was enough to purchase a one-way bus ticket to Colorado.

Several months before, I had written to her and asked if I could come stay with her. She wouldn’t deny me. I knew that. She despised my father almost as much as I did. She would take pride in lending me a helping hand so that I could leave.

When she sent me my most recent birthday card that arrived just days ago, she’d written something so simple inside. The words –Happy Birthday Grace; my home is yours. Like I said, the words were simple, but it was the finality that I’d longed for, and a silent agreement between the two of us. I knew what I had to do.

My bus ticket was purchased. That was the easy part. Getting out of my house without getting caught would be another story.

Tossing my bag over my shoulder, I looked around my bedroom one last time. It was the only thing about that life that I wanted to remember. It was the only thing that I could call my own. I didn’t have to share it, and when I wanted to be alone I knew that I could. My fingers grazed over the yellow blanket that my grandmother made. I wished that I could take it with me, but getting out was my main focus. There was limited room in my small bag, and so I couldn’t be picky. Necessities only.

I didn’t bother closing my bedroom door, when I walked out. My white Keds made zero noise as I tiptoed down the hall. There was only darkness, outside of the moonlight shining through the window in the kitchen, but I didn’t need the light. These walls had been mine for eighteen years, and I knew every crease, crack, and crevice. I knew just where to step to avoid the noises that the hardwood floor made. I knew that there was a piece of trim that lay loose where the hallway met the kitchen, and if you weren’t careful, it would catch your toe or the hem of your skirt.

When I reached the back door, it was clear that I had made it. If anyone found me there where I stood, I’d just run like the wind. Never look back.

I grabbed an apple out of the basket that sat on the kitchen counter for my trip. I slipped it into the opening of my bag, and then carefully opened the back door hoping like hell that it wouldn’t be loud.