It was my birthday.

While most young women turning twenty-one (outside of the church of course) would’ve been out celebrating the milestone with friends and family, my plans didn’t involve presents or parties.

Mine involved something much, much different.

Escape.

Rusty and Blue had been exactly where Mother had said they would be in the storage unit. It took a lot of sneaking around to get to them, and was mostly done while father was attending the men’s service and thought I was in the women’s center helping prepare the after-service meal.

Rusty and Blue were both…old. However, when I turned the key for the first time and Rusty roared to life I squealed with joy. After a week of teaching myself how to drive a manual in the parking lot, I still wasn’t great, but I could manage.

I didn’t have time for great.

The front door slammed shut, my spine jolted with unwelcome awareness.

He was home early.

“Get down here, Sawyer!” Father’s deep voice called up the stairs. “The deposit from last week was never made.” I heard him opening and slamming drawers in the kitchen, rustling through the contents.

Instinctually, I froze as if my lack of movement might make him think I wasn’t really there. My heart was beating so hard and so loud that I was afraid he was going to hear it through the closed door of my room. I held my breath for a few beats. Blood rushed to my ears, burning them as if the walls of my room were on fire.

If I’m going to do this, I have to do it now.

I pushed the building panic down deep inside, and resumed hastily shoving whatever clothing was within reach into a backpack.

“I know you’re up there! Answer me, girl!” Father yelled out. This time there was a discernable slur in his words. His heavy footsteps hit the stairs. The smell of liquor wafted under my door just as he thundered onto the landing. “Once you remember where you placed the church’s money you’re going to face the harshest discipline of your life.”

He thinks I misplaced it.

I snapped thick rubber bands around the ancient pink shoebox in both directions and shoved it into my backpack.

The door handle jiggled, and my fingers fumbled as I tried to zip my bag without crushing the box. When it finally gave way and I was able to zip it all the way shut, I slung the backpack over my shoulders.

What sounded like a balled fist connected with the door. Twice. The third bang came with the sound of wood splintering. “Sawyer, you open this fucking door right fucking now!”

Jogging over to my window I slid the slow moving thick pane of glass open with a grunt. I was sitting on the ledge with my legs dangling over the side when the door flew off the hinges and fell with a thud into the room.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Father barked. There was a slight sway to his step and I knew he was more than his usual weekday-drunk when he stumbled sideways into my dresser, sending picture frames crashing to the floor.

I lowered my feet onto the roof below. It was angled so in order not to fall off the narrow space I turned sideways and shuffled toward the back of the house.

When I reached the edge, I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the ladder I’d stowed under the corner of the overhang was still there.

I lifted it up and lowered it down to the grass, the muscles in my arms trembling under the heaviness of the metal ladder.

There was a commotion behind me followed by the sound of Father’s boots shuffling over the rough asphalt of the shingles.

There was no time to check the sturdiness of the ladder. It shook each time I placed my foot on another rung. Father stumbled toward me, reaching the edge of the roof while I was still only in the middle of the ladder.

He looked down and with his dark eyes glinting in the moonlight he kicked over the top of the ladder, sending me sailing back into the grass and the heavy metal to land on top of me.

When I connected with the ground, the air was forcefully pushed from my lungs. Thankfully, my backpack had protected me from suffering any major injuries. Other than the wind being knocked out of me, I was bruised and battered, but in one piece.

“You’re leaving everything you’ve ever known. You won’t survive out there and I won’t come looking for you. You’ll be dead to me, Sawyer. Dead!” Father swayed slightly and then he lost his footing completely. His hands waving in the air as he attempted to regain his balance, but it was no use. He began to fall.

I was shaking with adrenaline as I pushed myself to my feet. I stood just in time for him to land right where I had.

I could barely register the sound of snapping bone over my heart hammering in my ears.

Father groaned in pain and grabbed at his leg which was jutting out from his body at an unnatural angle.

Help, obey, and serve your father.

Not anymore.

I turned around and without the worry of him chasing me I strolled casually toward the back fence.

“Fuck, you!” he roared after me. “Don’t you dare come back here. You will rot in the depths of hell for this!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t ever be coming back,” I called in a calm tone that surprised even myself. I risked a glance back and watched as he tried to get up, only to fall again when his leg didn’t cooperate.

Father might’ve actually meant what he said, although it wasn’t true. He might have thought he had no intention of coming for me, but again, I knew better. I patted my pocket, the one that held the deed.

Too bad he was never going to find me.

I lifted my long skirt and started to climb over the tall fence. At the top, I paused.

When Father spotted me looking back at him writhing around on the grass, he went silent. For a moment, we were locked in a war of unspoken words. There had been a time for words. There had been a time when I’d have felt sympathy for him. A time when I would’ve rushed to his side without question.

Those times were long gone.

“Help me,” Father begged.

I tore my eyes from his and dropped down to the other side of the fence.

“Saaaawyer!” his screams echoed through the alley over and over again. The anger he had momentarily shoved aside to beg for my help was back in full force.

It always was.

The door to Rusty squealed when I opened it and leapt inside, tossing my bag to the passenger seat. Getting him and Blue into the alley was nothing short of a miracle. Now there I was, starting the engine. The loud noise thankfully drowning out my father’s cries.

I wasn’t stupid. I knew I would still hear him. No engine would ever be loud enough to mask him completely. No amount of distance between us would ever truly silence him.

But I was going to try anyway.

I blew out a long-held breath. Twenty-one years long-held, and shifted the truck into drive. I took off into the night. Before I turned down the road that led to the highway I glanced in the rearview mirror and whispered the last words I’d ever speak to the man who had become a monster.

“Goodbye, Father.”