Dying Twice To Save Her

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in that kitchen, the air thick with the scent of woodsmoke and old grease. I was back on the morning that ruined everything.

And once again, I chose to run. I ran straight to Granny Ruths room, my voice high and thin, a childs treble spilling the secret of my mothers planned escape.

In my memories, Mom had spent years whispering the truth to me like a bedtime story. She told me she wasnt from this placethat she was a "city girl" from a family with a real house and a lawn, stolen and sold into this godforsaken hollow. She promised that one day, she would take me far away.

When I was six, she finally had everything ready. But I sold her out for a slice of thick white bread slathered in honey and the hollow promise of Grannys affection.

I remember sitting on the porch, stuffing my face with that sweet, sticky bread while my mothers screams tore through the yard. They had her tied to the old, gnarled oak tree. My father was systematic with the belt.

She had looked up then, her eyes gleaming with a pure, concentrated venom I had never seen before. She didn't look like my mother; she looked like a wounded animal. She called me a heartless little monster.

At the time, I felt only a confused sense of betrayal. I didn't understand why she wanted to leave my father and me. I thought a "family" meant staying, no matter how much it hurt.

Three days later, she took her own life in the tool shed.

And not long after that, on a night when the moon was shielded by clouds, my fatherblind drunk and raging at the worldkilled me with a blow that was meant to "teach me a lesson."

In those final moments, as my breath rattled and faded, I finally understood. I understood her desperation. I understood her hate. And I understood that the "family" I had protected was really just a cage.

01

"You worthless bitch! I gave you a roof, I gave you food, and you try to run?"

My fathers roar vibrated in my chest. Hank was a mountain of a man, his face twisted into something demonic as he swung the leather strap. My mother was suspended from the oak branch, her clothes tattered, blood blooming like dark roses on her skin. She didnt even have the strength to scream anymore.

Granny Ruth stood on the porch, her arms crossed over her chest, a look of profound disgust on her weathered face.

"I told you she was a flighty thing, Hank. You shouldve kept her in the basement on a chain. Youre too soft."

She spat on the dirt. "If it wasn't for this little girl speaking up, shed be halfway to the interstate by now. We don't have the cash to buy you another wife, son."

Mom managed to lift her head. The warmth that used to be in her eyesthe way she used to tuck my hair behind my earswas gone. There was only a cold, jagged loathing.

"You little demon," she rasped, her voice a ghost of itself. "I should have smothered you in your sleep."

Hank reached for a heavy iron pry bar, swearing hed break her legs so shed never take another step toward the road.

I paused, clutching my piece of honey-toast. I looked at her, my face smudged with dirt, and forced a smile that I hoped looked both innocent and chilling.

"Daddy, if you break her legs, whos going to hoe the garden?"

Hank hesitated. The logic of the harvest won out over his rage. He cursed, dropped the bar, and grabbed a heavy rusted chain from the back of his truck. He looped it around her neck like a dog.

"Ill break 'em after the corn is in," he growled.

After he left to go play cards and drink with the neighbors, I crept out to the yard. I managed to get her down and brought her a bowl of cold scraps.

"Mommy, eat," I whispered.

She jerked her head away, her lip curling. With a sudden burst of energy, she slapped the bowl out of my hand and spat in my face.

"Get away from me! Youre not mine. Youre one of them."

I stood there, the cold grease from the scraps dripping down my cheek. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a cold hand.

Hank chose that moment to stumble back into the yard. Hearing her shout, he didn't even hesitate. He kicked her off the porch steps and followed her down, his boots connecting with her ribs.

"Ive been too damn nice to you!" he screamed.

He dragged her by the hair toward the side shed, the chain rattling against the stones.

"You sleep on the dirt from now on," he barked. He turned to me, his eyes bloodshot and impatient. "Hey, brat. If she tries to touch you again, you tell me or your Granny. You hear?"

I nodded obediently. He grunted, stumbling toward the house. "You're gonna be worth a few thousand in a couple of years," he muttered to himself. "Better not let you die yet."

Late that night, after the house fell into a heavy, alcohol-soaked silence, I crept into the shed.

She was shivering on the ground, her skin burning with fever. Granny kept all the medicine locked in a tin box; she said "strays and traitors" didn't deserve it.

I spent the night dipping a rag into a bucket of cold water, wiping her brow over and over. I sat there in the dark, hugging my knees.

This was Day One of my second chance.

In my first life, this was the beginning of the end. I had been brainwashed into thinking "family" was sacred, that her escape was a betrayal of me. So I told on her. And I watched her die.

This time, I had turned her in againbut only to save her legs. I knew if she ran that day, Hank would have caught her at the trailhead and crippled her for life.

I was smarter now. I knew she was a prisoner. I knew I was the child of a monster.

This time, I wasn't going to keep her here. I was going to be the one to open the gate.

02

"Get up, you lazy cow! Its noon! Wheres my lunch?"

Hank kicked the shed door open, his heavy boot prodding her limp body. When she didn't move, he cursed and yelled back toward the house. "Ma! Give this bitch some aspirin or something. I don't need her kicking the bucket yet."

"City girls," Granny grumbled from the porch. "Fragile as glass."

I spent the day hovering over her. When she finally woke in the evening, her eyes struggled to focus on me. I held out a bowl of mashed potatoes, trying to look helpful.

"Mommy, please eat."

She didn't take the food. Instead, she used her last ounce of strength to grab my arm, her fingers digging in like claws. "Why? Why did you tell them?"

The agony in her voice was a physical weight. I swallowed my tears and put on the mask of a brainwashed child.

"Mommy, you and Daddy are supposed to be together. Were a family. Im just trying to keep us whole."

She stared at me like I was a strangera monster she had birthed. Then, she started to laugh, a dry, hacking sound.

"My mistake. I thought you were my daughter. I forgot you have his blood in your veins. You were born rotten."

Her words cut deeper than any belt. In that moment, I knew I had lost her forever. She would never love me again.

I remembered Granny once saying I was a "mistake" Mom had fought to keep. Mom had been skin and bones, yet she had nursed me and shared every scrap of her food with me. Before the bitterness took over, she used to hold me at night and whisper, "Daisy, hold on. Just a little longer. Mommys gonna get us out."

Everyone else called me "brat" or "worthless," but she had named me Daisy. She told me I was her little bit of sunshine in the dark.

But now, Daisy was dead to her. I was just another jailer.

It didn't matter. I still loved her.

In my last life, I heard Hank bragging that he had let her try to escape that first time. He wanted to see if she was still "broken-in." If she tried to run, he knew he had to beat the hope out of her once and for all.

Thats why I told. I had to stop her from running into a trap.

This time, I would ensure she ran when the path was clear. I would send her back to her real life, even if I couldn't go with her.

03

As soon as she could stand, Hank had her back to work. She was a ghost in chains, hauling water, scrubbing floors, and working the garden.

Hank spent his days at the local dive bar. When he lost at cards, hed come home and take it out on her, calling her a "jinx." I stayed in the shadows, forced to watch.

After his rage was spent, he would drag her into the bedroom. Id huddle in the hallway, listening to her muffled cries and his heavy, triumphant breathing.

On the porch, Granny Ruth would listen too, a sickening smile stretching her wrinkles. "Well have a grandson soon," shed prune.

She looked like a ghoul in the yellow porch light, a predator waiting for fresh meat.

Under the cover of night, I started slipping away to the woods behind our shack. The briars tore at my skin, leaving me bloody, but I didn't care. I knew the plants Mom used to talk about. I gathered what I needed and hid the herbs in a hollow log near the creek.

The house sat on the hill like a squat, ugly beast, swallowing Moms life whole.

At dawn, Id be up to fix breakfast, trying to give her a few extra minutes of rest.

"The brats actually useful for something," Hank remarked one morning over his bacon.

Granny Ruth tilted my chin up, inspecting me like a heifer at an auction. "Shes got her mothers looks. Shell fetch a high price when shes of age. Well get our money back and then some."

I kept my eyes down, playing the part of the vacant, obedient doll.

A month passed. Mom was getting weaker, the light in her eyes flickering out. She looked like she had finally given up. My heart ached, but I couldn't comfort her. She looked at me with pure loathing every time I came near.

Then came the news: she was pregnant again.

Hank was ecstatic. "A son! Finally, an heir!"

Granny actually gave her an egg for breakfast, a "reward" for her fertility.

But that night, the silence was shattered by a scream that sounded like a dying animal. Mom had thrown herself against the corner of the heavy wooden dresser, over and over, until the life inside her was gone.

Blood soaked the floorboards.

Hank was incandescent with rage. He kicked her square in the chest. "You bitch! You killed my son!"

Mom lay in the blood, her face pale as bone, but her eyesfor the first time in monthswere blazing.

"I will never," she spat, "bear another monster for a rapist like you."

The word monster hit me like a physical blow. I knew she meant me.

"Youre here to breed, and if you won't do it willingly, Ill beat it into you!" Hank screamed.

He lashed her until she stopped moving, then tied her to the bedpost so she couldn't even crawl away.

From that night on, she wasn't even allowed in the shed. He moved her to the pigpen.

04

She was treated like livestock now, chained in the muck of the pigpen with nothing but a thin layer of straw. Her clothes were rags, stained with old blood.

When a neighbor stopped by and asked about the "city girl," Hank just shrugged.

"Shes a stubborn one. Lost the boy on purpose. Needs a firm hand."

The neighbor, an old man with yellow teeth, just chuckled. "Theyre all like that. A woman ain't a woman if she ain't breeding. Hit her a few more times. Or, if shes really a problem, just knock her upside the head until shes simple. Shell be easier to handle then."

Hank rubbed his chin. "But wholl do the work if shes simple?"

The old man pointed at me. "The little ones getting big. She looks handy."

Hanks eyes lit up. "Youre right, Silas. Youre always right."

I stood by the pump, my blood running cold. My time was running out. I couldn't wait any longer.

"If you want her to be a good broodmare, you gotta feed her a bit," Silas added. "Can't have her dying before you get your money's worth."

Hank nodded begrudgingly. Over the next month, he "fattened her up" like a hog for slaughter, forcing food down her throat when she refused to eat.

Labor Day was three days away. In our town, that meant a big community BBQ and plenty of moonshine.

I walked into the pigpen and knelt in the mud in front of her. She was a shell of the woman she had been.

"Get out, you little parasite," she hissed without opening her eyes.

I looked at her, memorizing the curve of her jaw, the way her hair used to smell like lavender before it smelled like rot.

"Mommy," I whispered. "The holiday is coming. Youre going to see your real family soon. Aren't you happy?"

She let out a harsh, jagged laugh. "See them? In hell, maybe. Ill see them when I finally kill your father and then myself."

I looked down, my heart breaking in silence.

05

The Labor Day BBQ was the biggest event of the year. The house was full of the towns worst men and their weary wives.

Granny had me up at 4:00 AM to start the prep. She actually let us have a big pot of pork stew and cornbread.

While I stirred the pot, standing on a chair, I slipped in the powdered herbs Id been collecting for weeks. It wasn't enough to killjust enough to induce a deep, heavy sleep that felt like a coma.

Hank and Granny wouldn't let Mom or me eat the "good" food. That was my saving grace.

By 8:00 PM, the sun had dropped, and the hollow was pitch black. One by one, the men and women in the yard began to slump over.

My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I whistled into the darkness, and a shadow moved near the treeline.

It was Benny. Everyone called him "Simple Benny," the local handyman who never said a word. But I knew better. I had seen him watching the house with eyes that were far too sharp for a fool.

Benny moved with a soldiers precision. He unlocked Moms chains and threw a heavy coat over her shoulders.

Mom stared at him, bewildered. "Who are you?"

"No time," Benny whispered, his voice low and culturednot the local drawl. "Im an undercover agent. Ive been trying to get enough evidence on this ring for months. Daisy told me tonight was the night. We have to move."

I handed Mom a small bundle. "Mommy, theres some bread and water in here. For the road."

She pushed me away so hard I hit the muddy ground. "Stay away from me! Is this another trick? Are you calling them now?"

I clutched my scraped elbow, unable to speak. Benny stepped between us.

"She saved you, Stella. That first time you tried to run? It was a set-up. Hank was waiting in the brush with a shotgun. Daisy knew. She turned you in to keep you alive. Shes the reason Im here."

Mom froze. She looked at me, her expression a chaotic map of shock and dawning realization. She reached out and pulled me into a fierce, trembling hug.

For a second, I was back in the "before." I breathed in the scent of her, even through the grime. Just a second longer, I prayed. Let me remember this.

"Lights!" Benny hissed.

I looked toward the village. Torches were flickering. The neighbors who hadn't come to our house were mobilizing. Someone must have seen Benny.

"Go!" I shouted. "They're coming!"

"Run!" Benny grabbed Moms arm. "This is the only shot!"

They disappeared into the brush. I watched them go, then turned toward the approaching lights.

A group of men, led by the towns sheriff, were charging up the hill.

"Shes heading for the ridge!" someone screamed.

I took a deep breath and began to runnot toward Mom, but in the exact opposite direction. I wore an old shawl of hers, letting it flutter behind me like a signal.

"There she is! Don't let the bitch get away!"

I scrambled through the thorns, my lungs burning, my legs screaming. A sharp pain exploded in my calfa pitchfork or a stray bullet, I didn't know. I kept moving until I reached the Devils Dropa sheer cliff overlooking the river.

I looked back. The torches were close. I could see Hanks face, red with fury.

I smiled.

Theyd never catch her now.