Chapter Eleven
“We’re almost there,” Daniel said quietly, his voice cutting through the silence between them.
Edith nodded, though her throat felt too tight to form words. She wasn’t ready—how could she be? But she had no choice. She needed her Bible, needed something familiar to remind her of the parts of herself she hadn’t lost.
The clop of the horse’s hooves against the dirt road echoed the racing of her heart.
Each creak of the cart’s wheels only seemed to amplify the tension coiled inside her chest. She sat stiffly beside Daniel, the morning sun casting long shadows over the road, though the warmth did nothing to ease the chill in her bones.
“You holding up all right?” Daniel asked, his voice softer than before.
“I’ll manage,” Edith replied, her eyes fixed on the path ahead. The words sounded braver than she felt, but she couldn’t let her fear show. Not now.
After a moment, he spoke again, his voice low but kind. “I understand. But you don’t have to do this alone.”
Edith flinched slightly at his words, her gaze flickering to him for the briefest moment before she turned away again. “It’s just... it’s not easy going back there,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “I don’t want you to see it.”
“See what?” Daniel asked gently.
“The way I lived,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She hadn’t planned to say that, but the words slipped out before she could stop them. “That place... it’s filthy, it’s broken. It’s... me.”
Daniel’s brow furrowed, and he shook his head. “Edith, the way you lived doesn’t define you. It’s just a house. It’s not who you are.”
Her throat tightened, and she bit her lip, unsure how to respond. His words were kind, but they didn’t erase the years she had spent feeling trapped and worthless.
“I know you mean that, but it’s hard for me to see it any other way,” she whispered. “It’s all I’ve known.”
Daniel slowed the cart as they neared the cabin, the run-down structure coming into view. He didn’t speak for a long moment, then finally said, “You’re not the house, Edith. You’re more than what happened there. You’re more than what he made you feel.”
Edith turned her face away, the emotion rising too quickly for her to control. She didn’t want to cry, didn’t want to fall apart in front of him. Not here. Not now. “I wish I could believe that,” she murmured.
Daniel pulled the cart to a stop in front of the cabin, the crooked door hanging off its hinges, the broken windows casting long shadows inside. “You don’t have to believe it all at once,” he said gently. “But you can start.”
Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she considered asking him to come with her, to protect her from the ghosts of this place. But the thought of Daniel seeing the full extent of the squalor, of her father’s cruelty, made her chest tighten. She couldn’t let him witness that. Not yet.
Daniel glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “If you’re not ready, we can turn back.”
Edith shook her head quickly. “No. I have to do this.”
“Doesn’t look like much, huh,” Daniel muttered, more to himself than to her.
“It never did,” Edith said, her voice barely above a whisper. The cabin had always felt like a prison, the walls trapping her in with her father’s rage. Now, seeing it again, it felt like a place she had barely escaped from with her life.
Daniel pulled the reins, slowing the cart as they neared the front of the house. “We can make this quick,” he said, glancing at her as he started to climb down. Edith stopped him with a small movement.
“I have to do this alone,” she told him. The dirty, shambled home made Daniel’s cabin look like a palace.
“Are you sure?” Daniel asked her, eyebrow raised.
“Pa probably ain’t even here,” she justified, climbing down from the wagon by herself.
“I’m right here,” Daniel said softly, pulling the cart to a stop. He glanced at her, his voice steady but gentle. “You don’t have to go in alone.”
Edith’s forced herself to nod. She knew he meant well, that he was offering her a lifeline, but this was something she had to face. She had to reclaim what was hers. She had to retrieve that Bible.
She slowly climbed down from the cart, her legs trembling beneath her as her feet touched the ground. The cabin seemed to loom larger than ever before, casting a long shadow over her as she took a hesitant step forward.
Her eyes flickered toward the door—half open like it was waiting for her to return. She took another step forward and then another, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Daniel watched her, and Edith could feel his presence, steady and strong, and it gave her just enough courage to keep moving. But with every step, the memories grew louder.
Finally, she stood at the cabin's threshold, staring into its dim, shadowy interior. The smell of stale air and old wood greeted her, familiar and unwelcome. She hesitated, her hand hovering near the door, feeling like she might be sick.
Just get the Bible, she told herself. That’s all you need.
But as she stepped inside, the memories crashed over her like a wave, pulling her back into the darkness she had tried so hard to escape.
Edith swallowed hard as she stepped into the cabin, the musty scent of stale air hitting her like a slap. Her fingers brushed the walls as she moved around the tiny kitchen table to the pad of ragged blankets where she slept on the floor.
She stopped, listening for any sounds. For a split second, fear gripped her chest—but then she heard it: her father’s deep, heavy snoring.
Relief washed over her, and she let out a shaky breath.
He was still passed out drunk, as he often was.
Good. That meant she could slip in and out without waking him.
Moving as quietly as she could, hands trembling as she reached under the thin, worn pillow, she grabbed her only other dress and shift.
Then, she turned and stepped toward the hearth, reaching for the pot that hid her Bible.
In the days since she left, the pot had not moved.
Her fingers closed around the familiar, rough leather cover of the book, and a wave of calm washed over her.
It was the one thing that had always given her comfort, no matter how dark things had been.
Tucking the Bible under her arm, she turned to leave, but the snoring stopped.
Edith froze, her heart leaping into her throat. Her pulse quickened, her body going rigid. She didn’t dare breathe. Slowly, she turned her head, the silence pressing around her like a vice.
Her father was in the middle of the one-room cabin. Looming over her, his face twisted into a sneer, and his eyes were bloodshot and wild. He looked at her with a disgusted smirk, the kind that always made her stomach turn.
“Well, well,” he slurred, his voice thick with contempt. “Look who decided to come crawling back.”
Edith’s heart raced as she tried to steady herself. She stumbled over her words, trying to find her voice as he moved toward her, his steps slow and deliberate.
“I-I just came to get some of my things,” she managed to say, her voice trembling as she clutched the dresses tighter against her chest. She kept her gaze low, avoiding the dark, angry gleam in his eyes. Her fingers tightened around the Bible, as if holding on to it could anchor her.
Her father’s cruel smile deepened, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as he approached her. He reeked of alcohol, the stench making Edith’s throat tighten. “Your things?” he slurred, his voice dripping with mockery. “These ain’t your things no more, girl.”
Edith took a step back, instinctively shrinking away from him. “Please,” she whispered, her voice small. “Just let me take my Bible. That’s all I need.”
His smile widened, the cruelty in his expression sharper now, twisted with amusement at her desperation.
He let out a bitter laugh, a sound that echoed through the small cabin like nails on a chalkboard.
“Your Bible?” he repeated, the mockery in his voice cutting deep.
“What’s a good-for-nothing like you need a Bible for?
You think God’s gonna help you? You think anyone will? ”
Edith flinched at his words, but for the first time, something inside her pushed back. She lifted her gaze just enough to meet his eyes. “I need it,” she said, her voice shaking but steadier than before. “Please, Pa. Just let me have it.”
Her father’s eyes flashed with something darker, his amusement fading into anger at the sound of her defiance.
He took another step toward her, his voice dropping low, dangerous.
“What did you say to me?” he growled, leaning in close enough that she could smell the whiskey on his breath.
“You don’t tell me what you need. You don’t get to say a thing, you hear me? ”
“I’m not asking for anything else,” Edith whispered, trying to hold her ground, but her heart raced, her body trembling. She had never talked back to him before. The fear, the years of being silenced, welled up inside her. “Just the Bible.”
Her father’s smile faltered for a split second, his eyes flashing with surprise at her defiance.
It had been years since Edith had spoken to him like that—if ever.
But that flash of surprise quickly morphed into anger.
“What did you say?” he growled, taking a step closer, the floorboards creaking under his weight.
“You got somethin’ to say to me now? Think you’re better than me? ”
Edith’s heart raced, her pulse pounding in her ears. “No, I just—” she began, but her father cut her off, his hand shooting toward her.
“You just what?” he snapped, his voice rising, the slur in his words growing thicker. “You think you can walk in here and talk to me like that, after everything? After I raised you, fed you, kept a roof over your head?”
“You didn’t—” Edith started again, but before Edith could even register what was happening, her father lunged forward and snatched the Bible from her hands with a rough, violent tug. She gasped, her nails scraping against the leather cover as it was ripped from her grasp.
“These things are mine now,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. He raised the Bible in front of her, holding it like a trophy. “Ain’t you married now? Can’t your husband buy you new things? Or is he as worthless as you are?”
The insult cut deep, but Edith had no time to react before he tossed the Bible toward the hearth.
It flew through the air, landing with a sickening thud in the dying embers.
For a brief moment, everything seemed to freeze.
Edith’s breath caught in her throat as the fire leaped up, engulfing the fragile pages instantly.
The leather cover blackened and curled, the edges of the paper glowing orange before they crumbled to ash.
“No!” The word tore from her lips, raw and desperate, as she tried to step forward, but her father blocked her with his arm, throwing her backward to the floor.
“Not so fast,” he snarled, his eyes gleaming maliciously. Before Edith could react, he reached out again, grabbing the dresses she held tightly to her chest. He wrenched them from her arms with brutal force, the fabric tearing as he ripped them away from her grasp.
“Please!” Edith cried, her voice breaking as she watched the last of her possessions being stripped from her hands.
But her father wasn’t listening. With the same cruel smile, he tossed the dresses into the fire.
The flames roared to life again, consuming the fabric just as they had devoured the Bible.
Edith watched helplessly as the only pieces of her past—the only things that had meant anything to her—were reduced to nothing but ash.
Her father’s laughter echoed through the cabin, sharp and bitter, cutting through her like a knife. “Go on, then,” he spat, his voice filled with venom. “Get on out of here. You ain’t got nothing left.”