Chapter One
Anabelle sat on theedge of the narrow bed she shared with her sisters, their three forms huddled together. Isabelle’s eyes, usually brimming with a gentle light, were dulled by the weight of their reality. Rosabelle, ever the pillar, held her sisters’ hands, her touch a feeble comfort against the chill that seeped through the thin floorboards.
Ana’s gaze drifted to the window, the glass blurred with the remnants of past storms. Her fiery red hair, starkly contrasting to the drab surroundings, spilled over her shoulders untamed and wild. Each shout from their father that rose from downstairs punctured the quiet, and with every harsh syllable, her fists tightened. Knuckles white, she felt the simmering anger within her fighting for release, an inferno caged by circumstance.
Her jaw set, a silent rebellion against the timbers that groaned beneath the strain of their father’s wrath. The man’s voice, once a lullaby in her childhood memories, had become a herald of dread.
Izzy shivered beside her, and Rosie’s grip grew firmer, a lifeline in the storm. Ana knew they could not weather this tempest much longer. This small room, swathed in sorrow and the residue of dreams deferred, could no longer contain the breadth of their yearning—a yearning for dawn after the darkest of nights.
Ana’s whisper cut through the stifling silence, a strand of audacity against the backdrop of despair. “We must leave tonight,” she murmured, her gaze burning into Izzy and Rosie’s solemn faces. “There is nothing but sorrow for us here.”
Her sisters’ eyes, mirrors of her resolve, nodded mutely. With each word Ana spoke, a delicate blueprint of their escape unfurled in the dimness. She outlined the plan with precision. They would slip away into the night and venture beyond Beckham.
“Freedom awaits us,” she promised.
In the corner of the room, a satchel lay open, its mouth gaping for the remnants of a life they would soon discard. Ana moved toward it. She reached first for the photograph, the image of their mother etched with sepia tones. A gentle touch traced the contours of the woman’s smile before Ana nestled the photo amidst the sparse contents of the bag.
Next came the journal, its leather cracked with secrets and shared aspirations. Here lay the sketches of dreams.Within those scribbles, laughter and love lingered, a memory of how life was with their mother. Ana placed it atop the photograph, promising herself that they wouldn’t give up on their dreams, even now, with their mother gone.
The bag was light. It bore the essence of three lives intertwined with all that the triplets had from their past.
“Time to go,” Ana whispered, her grip on the satchel firm. She turned to her sisters, and together, they stepped toward the threshold into a life of freedom, no matter what hardships it may bring.
The wooden steps creaked under their weight. With each step they took, they worried their father would hear and his rage would be out of control once again. Ana firmly believed that if their mother hadn’t been there to protect them, they all would have died as infants.
“Who’s there?” he asked, more an accusation than a question.
Ana stilled, her hand reaching back to still Izzy and Rosie. She fixed her gaze on the shadows ahead, willing them to swallow the three of them whole.
“Quiet now,” she mouthed to her sisters, the words a silent prayer. She took a step, then another, her movements deliberate.
She could feel Izzy and Rosie close behind her, their presence a heat at her back. Their eyes caught the scant light, wide orbs reflecting both the fear of what they fled and the anticipation of the freedom that beckoned just beyond the door.
“Girls?” The voice again, closer now.
Ana held her breath, pressing forward, the weight of years bearing down upon her slender shoulders. The darkness was a blanket around them, thick and suffocating, yet it was also a shield, helping them escape.
Ana’s fingers found the cold metal of the doorknob, each heartbeat thundering in her ears a silent drumroll for the moment they had awaited. Behind them, their father’s footsteps grew louder, and Ana said a silent prayer they would get away. All three of them had to escape together. They’d shared a womb, and they would share their lives. Their futures.
“Quickly,” she urged.
Izzy and Rosie pressed close, a triad of trembling bodies yearning for the other side. The door’s hinges groaned, a reluctant participant in their flight. Ana’s grip tightened, knuckles white with the fear their father brought by merely being.
Then, the footsteps halted—a predator sensing its prey on the cusp of escape. Ana stilled, everything inside her begging her to move quickly. Each second seemed to take an eternity as they waited for just the right time to run.
A gush of cool night air embraced them, the scent of freedom mingling with the earthy aroma of the outside world. They stumbled out, the world suddenly vast and scary.
Their breaths came fast, misting in the air as if their very spirits sought to break free from the confines of their chests. The night wrapped around them, a cloak woven with threads of uncertainty and hope.
Ana led the charge, her red hair a fiery banner in the moon’s pale light. It was done. Now they must run to the next town. Beckham. It meant freedom.
Ana’s gaze cut through the gloom to find Izzy’s, whose eyes shimmered with unshed tears, reflecting the starlight. So much had been endured in silence, so much pain held at bay by sheer will. Yet now, as their gazes locked, words were unnecessary. There was understanding—profound and complete. They were survivors, each scar a sign of their strength.
The night air, crisp and laden with the scent of pine, brushed against their skin, whispering of vast open spaces and possibilities. There were so many possibilities. They just had to get away from the farm to see them.
Ana led her sisters away from the silhouette of their childhood prison. Each step was a quiet rebellion, each breath a taste of liberty. The unpaved path beneath their feet crumbled like the remnants of a life they wished to forget.
As they reached the edge of town, they drew in a collective breath of relief. They’d made it this far. Now they had to make lives for themselves. They had money for train fare, and they’d go with no plan if they had to. The more distance between them and their father, the safer they would be.
