27. Kinleigh
TWENTY-SEVEN
KINLEIGH
FIVE YEARS AGO.
My arms looping my knees, which are drawn to my chest, I rock back and forth as the scalding shower rains down on me. Though my body needs healing, my mind is currently the problem.
Being in prison physically means continual restraint. I’m not free to go anywhere or do anything, contact anyone or… do anything. But the worst part of my prison is my head .
I’m trapped with my thoughts, an echo chamber that becomes more horrifying the longer I’m alone here.
Something went wrong last night. The holding container wasn’t ready or hadn’t been delivered to the correct coordinates–I’m not sure. Uncle Garrison shouted at someone for a long time, and I never could clearly get an answer as to what happened.
All I know is that there were six women in our cellar.
Beaten, clothes torn, filthy, all of them wearing ankle bracelet identifiers.
It’d been so long since I acted impulsively. Continual beatings paired with withholding food, and rape, very quickly quashed the urge to talk back or act rashly, let me tell you. But that night, when they were arguing and shouting, working out how to “get the specs to the container before pickup”, I was overwhelmed with the need to free them.
Though a part of me knew walking into the cellar with the keys and uncuffing them was too simple and too easy, still, I did it. I did it to show them that I remember they are human. I know they have families. I want them to be free.
I’d gotten two pairs of cuffs unlocked before they caught me.
He tore my perineum last night.
And as my father forced his way into my body without my permission, holding my face over the horse’s trough in the freezing night air, he gave me a gift. Not a traditional gift in a box with a bow, but words.
“You’re just like your mother, always disobeying and disrespecting me. The last time she disrespected me, she got knocked up with you. Then she had the audacity to go and die on me.” He hit me hard in the lower back, his closed fist bruising my kidneys in a singular blow. “You’re gonna stay alive and pay me back for everything I’ve done for you and her.”
I didn’t feel anything after that.
The knife blade against my cheek, the cool tip of it at my throat as he took my ass after he raped me in the traditional sense.
We don’t share blood.
And while everything I’d known about my life until that point became hazy and questionable, I embraced the fog. Because I knew I could sift through anything now that I knew I didn’t share blood with a monster.
After the water runs cold, I get to my feet, turn it off and step out. My teeth are chattering, and my groin is tender and sore. Walking is a challenge and I think he broke two of my ribs, as deep breaths are painful and breathing is hard.
Just knowing that he did not give me DNA has made the pain of captivity, of my lost life, of everything I’m forced to take part in here at Conway Farms, slightly less traumatic. The knowledge has brought me a razor’s edge of happiness, and knowing that my mother’s last act against Forrest was sleeping with someone else and getting knocked up? I’m proud of the woman I never met. And I plan to make her proud, one day.
I’ll get him back for all of this.
I step into a pair of jeans, and feed my brown belt through. They fit a month ago, but I’ve been punished more recently. I’ve lost weight. My reflection tells me around ten pounds. I’m never hungry, though.
I pull on a hoodie and tug my wet hair into a bun, not bothering to comb it. I gave up on taking care of my appearances a long time ago, and only now will I bother if Forrest forces me.
I don’t know how to get him back other than to run away.
Leave here and show him that while my mom couldn’t escape him without death, I can. I am my mother’s daughter, and I will not succumb to the evils of Forrest Conway.
Dad and Uncle Garrison are holed up in the office, doing God only knows what. I take the opportunity to feed the chickens out back, cautiously making my way to the barn where Charlie is tied up. Not fussing with the saddle, I hop on Charlie bare, my mind too busy with other things to worry about comfort. I’m sore and it hurts, yes, but I push past it, with bigger things to tackle than my discomfort.
I smooth my fingers down her coat as I get settled atop her. She whinnies quietly, and I wonder how much she knows I need her. How much she knows I love her. That my morning rides through the pasture with her hair in the wind and her strong body carrying me for a few minutes is the highlight of my days.
She trots out of the barn, and then, quietly, I guide her toward the other side of the property—away from Conway and Beckett property, toward the main road.
The farther we get from the house, the faster I call for her to run. Her steps become gallops, and a few minutes later my nose is stinging in the cold as the gravel road to the heart of Twin Trails, Buffalo Trails’s sister town, rests.
This is it.
I could go.
I could ride over there, up to their sheriff’s office, and I could tell them everything that goes down at Conway Farms.
Though I don’t know the holding location.
And most of my proof lives in my memory, or in files and papers I don’t currently have access to.
It would be my word against his.
And I have nothing. He has it all.
I stare into the gray horizon, afternoon melting into early evening, birds swooping carelessly through the air, leaves falling, the world around me completely unaware of my personal suffering.
That’s what is so beautiful about life.
No matter the internal demons, there is always beauty and opportunity waiting.
There’s rustling inside a bush near the fence line, and a tiny bunny hops out, springing away from me with such speed he becomes a mere dot on the horizon in a matter of moments.
I could be like that bunny.
I could run away from here, right now.
Start a new life.
A shot soars through the sky, cutting into the quiet and calm. That shot is meant for me. That is my warning shot.
The next one’ll be in the back of your head . I can hear his threats despite the fact I’m over two miles away from the house now.
If I’m gone too long, he fires a shot.
Like I’m an animal.
No, he treats the animals better than he treats people.
I stare at the trail where the bunny went, my body itching to lurch forward, dying to lean into Charlie, giving her the cue to run. And she would. She’s a good girl, she always knows what I need. We’ve bonded over the years. She’s been a silent ally in her companionship.
But if I run and he catches me…
I can’t just go, not like this. I need a plan if I’m going to escape. Weapons on me, something to protect both myself and Charlie. I stroke my fingers along her mane, one more time. “Not tonight, Charlie. Not yet.”
We turn around and are in no hurry to get back to the house. “One day, though, I promise.”