“Miss Sylvia,” I quietly interrupt the blaring commercial as my boss and her man sit together on the couch getting ready for their show to come back on.

She sneers at me with utter disgust. The way she would if she found a roach crawling in her sink. In this house, right now, a roach might get more respect than I do.

“What?” She frowns at me as I tug at the sleeve of my shirt awkwardly.

“I’ve scrubbed all the pots and pans and polished all the silver in your cabinet.” I run through the list of the latest chores. She’s been running me ragged for the last couple of days, trying to punish me for coming back late. I suppose it could be a lot worse. So much worse that I’ve just kept my mouth shut and done exactly what she’s told me to. “May I go to bed now?”

“Bed? This early?” She looks at her wristwatch. “Did you finish the laundry?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I nod.

“Did you wash the bathroom down?”

“I did,” I answer simply.

“And the garbage is out by the curb?”

“It is.”

Sylvia pauses, probably scanning her mind for more menial tasks and chores to pile onto me. However, her show comes back on and distracts her attention. “Fine, get to bed. You’ll be up bright and early anyway.” She flicks her wrist, dismissing me with her dangling hand.

“Thank you.” I walk away before she has a chance to change her mind. Although, if she really did change her mind, she could just wake me up and demand I start cleaning again.

Exhausted, I trudge down to my room, past all the gleaming surfaces I’ve cleaned and cleaned again in this house. Sylvia was furious with me for staying out. She shrieked at me, spat in my face, and told me that if she hadn’t known my father she would have sold me years ago. I’m not allowed to leave the yard at all anymore. She even fired me from picking up her coffee order, sending Raymond in my place to pick up the bitch special.

I went from feeling like a prisoner to truly becoming one. I can only hope that, in time, Sylvia’s anger eases off some and I’m actually allowed to go outside for more than just dragging garbage to the curb.

Sitting on the side of my bed, I feel so much older than I am. My body is tired and my joints ache. I haven’t had five minutes to sit down all day. My feet scream at me in protest, begging me to lie down and give them a break.

I’m not ready to go to sleep yet, though. I know as soon as my head hits that pillow I won’t be able to stop myself from drifting off and I’m not ready to pass out, only to be woken before the sun rises to do this all again tomorrow. I need some time to myself.

My thoughts drift to Jackson for probably the thousandth time in the last few days. Since Sylvia confiscated my phone, I’ve had no way of reactivating my profile and talking to him. It’s eating me up inside that I haven’t been able to tell him why I had to send him away. If I could just get him to hear me out, if I could explain my life, he wouldn’t be angry anymore. I hate that someone I care about so deeply will soon be a distant memory in my life.

Why can’t you talk to him? I can almost hear the thought in Julianna’s rebellious voice, whispering in my ear.

No, that’s crazy thoughts. I can’t start going down that path. As it is, I’m skating on thin ice. If I try to sneak my phone back and communicate with Jackson, I really could be facing deportation, or worse.

Who said anything about your phone? You know where he lives. Go see him. She’ll never know.

My heart skips a beat at the scandalous thought. There’s no way I could sneak out and see him… right? I mean, definitely, without question there’s no way I should. But if I did, could I get away with it? It’s not like Sylvia is going to check in on me. She knows she’s got me under her thumb right now. Tonight she’s probably just going to have too many drinks, watch her reality television, and stumble up to bed.

Would she ever even find out? I bite my lip as I consider something so stupid, yet something that my heart is begging me to do. All the rebelliousness I never got to experience as a teenager rears its ugly head as my thoughts multiply, encouraging me to take this chance.

I’m on the ground floor, so it wouldn’t be hard to sneak out through my bedroom window. My head sweeps around and I watch my bedroom door, like I half expect Sylvia to suspect that I’m up to something and come barging in here at any moment.

She doesn’t.

I stand up, still keeping my eyes on the door, but nothing changes. Walking backward, creeping slowly, I make my way to the window, never taking my eyes off that door. However, it remains closed. Beyond it, I can still hear the television blasting in the other room. I tilt my head as I hear Raymond talking to Sylvia and they both laugh.

I face my window, my heart thumping so hard I can see my pulse in my hands as I slide the pane open and tug the screen from the opening. Gently, quietly, I push the screen under my bed, hiding it from sight.

Am I really going to do this? If my body has any intention of listening to the second-guessing in my mind, it’s not showing it. I contort my body under the window, so I’m sitting on the outside with my feet dangling toward the ground. Even though I’m not high up, it’s still a jump down to the grass. I slide the window down behind me, digging the tips of my fingers into the glass like tiny suction cups and easing it toward my butt. I leave it open enough that I can sneak back in and take a deep breath.

Thud!

To me, that noise might as well be me crashing into a giant wall of cymbals. It sounds so loud, I expect to see Raymond and Sylvia rounding the corner any second, ready and willing to destroy what’s left of my life. I freeze in place, waiting for something to happen, but nothing does. From inside, I can hear them laugh again at their show and my muscles unwind, allowing me to quickly walk away from the house.

Down the street I march, forcing myself not to run. I don’t want to draw attention to myself, but I have this wild energy begging to be released inside of me that the pure adrenaline pulsing through my veins is causing. I speed walk away from the house, keeping my eyes peeled for a taxi the entire time. Up the road I see one and flag it down, shocked when it actually waits for me.

I’m doing this. I’m going to see him. To tell him the truth. It’s exhilarating and scary, but in my heart I know it’s the right thing to do.