The sun sinks right to the edge of the horizon, becoming a blinding blaze of pure light. Fear and pain explode in my chest, sending such horrible agony through me, it’s as if I have to scream to get it out.
All I want is to go over that horizon. I have to get out of here—it’s all I’ve ever wanted—and now I have more reason than ever before!
I go through the steps in my mind. How I would secretly pack a few days in advance. Hold a small feast at home, lacing the food with sedating herbs, and making sure Father’s cup was always full of moonshine. After they pass out, one by one, I then collect my bag and strike out west—not stopping until I’m well past Caliente and in the human world.
A warm wind caresses my face, and I can’t help but smile as I imagine myself in a small city with an ordinary job, a little place to live, money of my own, and maybe a few friends.
It doesn’t sound like much, but to me, it would be bliss.
As the sun slips away behind the ridge, the breeze turns cool, and the pain returns to my chest.
I’d never make it. I’d have to clear Caliente before the drugs wore off—and I could never move that fast!
I wipe my face free of tears, not even caring about the dirt smearing my cheeks. As usual, thoughts of escape have only upset me even more, and if I truly want to stop suffering, the only thing I can do is accept my fate.
All of us know the dangers that surround Clover. It’s ingrained in us from the moment we can walk that leaving the town always results in a messy death. Above all, we avoid going east, towards Eccles.
Turning my back on the sun, I pick up my basket and head towards the house. My little dream of freedom haunts the edges of my mind, like a siren singing to me of escape and hope.
Yeah, remember what happened to the guys who followed the siren? They all got crushed to death on the rocks.
As I approach the back door of our flimsy little cottage, I can hear Melanie laughing with Father’s men. All of them sound drunk already, and I wonder again how they never get bored with drinking too much and talking shit.
Day after day of sleeping late, drinking from noon, and doing absolute fuck-all. Even the laziest person alive would have to get bored with it sooner or later.
“Sara!” Melanie’s shrill voice cuts through the air. “Get your ass in here. We’re starving, for fuck’s sakes.”
“I had to pick some vegetables,” I mutter, head down.
“Why?” she snaps, getting up to stride over to the door so she can glare at me close up. “None of us fucking like them.”
“Without them, there isn’t much to eat,” I answer, trying to keep my voice respectful.
“Whose fault is that?” she almost shrieks.
I look over at Father’s men but don’t say anything.
“We brought in meat,” Bruce says. “But I ain’t fucking cooking it.”
“I thought you were going to make more cakes,” Melanie says, almost pouting. “You say those are easy to make, and we don’t need much to bake them—and some biscuits, too!”
“Sure thing, Melanie,” I say, shuffling past her to get to the stove. “I understand. I’ll put some on now.”
With a little sound of triumph, she returns to her seat and takes another drink. I pull out trays and mixing bowls, setting up cake batter and cookie dough.
If I can say one good thing about my life, it’s that I have to eat cake every day. Like, it’s an actual survival tactic!
Flour, eggs, and milk, we have in pretty good supply, and with varied ingredients from our gardens and surrounding areas, we can make a variety of baked goods that keep us fed when all else fails. I set the biscuits and cake in the oven, then start to cook the meat and prepare the vegetables.
No one else bothers to help me, but thankfully, they get so drunk, they don’t seem to notice time passing. After the cakes and cookies come out of the oven, they fill up on those, and it keeps them quiet until the roasted meat and veggies are ready.
I’d normally get a chance to wash up while the food was cooking, but Melanie kept me busy, so I’m still in my dirty clothes when I sit down to eat. I’m thinking about a long, cool bath as soon as I’m done with dinner, and hopefully a decent sleep before I have to get up tomorrow and do all of this again.
“Where the hell is your father?” Melanie asks, talking with her mouth full. “His food’s going to get cold.”
“He’s right here.”
I try not to react when I hear Father’s voice, but it’s hard not to jump. He’s good at sneaking up on people like that, and I still don’t know how he does it. I look up slowly, trying to settle my beating heart as I look up into his steel blue eyes.
