Once Samantha finished rubbing off the spill with her ragged washcloth, she closed her eyes and prayed for her daughter, the same prayer she prayed day and night. ‘Oh, Lord, do whatever you wish with me, but don’t touch my baby. Please, Lord, don’t let them touch my girl.’ As Samantha recited this silently, she felt a fresh tear trickle down from her tightly shut eyes, tickling her cheek. If she made any attempt to escape, her whole family could and would be punished. However, she knew that she could never forgive herself if she allowed Rosie to be stuck in this horrible life of servitude forever.
It was time to make a choice. Perhaps the most important choice of her life.
Just as her eyes fluttered open, Margaret and William entered pompously, laying out the party’s mouth-watering food on the kitchen table. As William made to leave the room, his eyes flitted over Samantha. He paused, glowering at her scornfully, as though wishing for her to evaporate on the spot. “Leave,” he ordered, as if she weren’t even human, just a thing; a mere object to control.
Samantha bowed her head obediently and walked out of the room, but broke into a run once she reached the wide, vast fields of corn. Her bare feet were burning from the scorching ground, but she didn’t care. All she needed and wanted was to get home.
After reaching a nearly broken wooden shack, its twigs sticking out in all directions, she slowed, and creaked open its door. “Samantha!” a man’s voice called. “You’re finally home!” He greeted Samantha in a brief, one armed hug, and as usual, asked her how the day had been. Samantha, however, interjected before he could even begin.
“John,” she told her husband. “I want to get out of her. I want to leave.”
“Samantha – what?” John looked at Samantha incredulously. “They’ll beat us into a pulp! What’re you talkin’ about?”
“John! I. Want. To. LEAVE!” Samantha repeated firmly. “Don’t you understand? Rosie’s gotta have a future, John. I want my girl to go to school and prove everyone wrong.”
“Samantha, it’s not possible. You have to underst –”
“It is possible. Tons of people just like us have done it. Besides, I already promised her.”
“What? You promised who?”
“I promised Rosie, ‘course.”
“Oh, Lord. Where on Earth are you plannin’ to go, then?”
“Anywhere other than here.”
“Mommy said we’ll live in a house with a garden,” Rosie piped in. “She said it’ll have pretty flowers.” John gazed at her daughter, drinking in her elated features, which had lit up at the very thought of freedom. How could he deprive his little girl of such happiness? Looking away once again, he buried his face in his hands and paced around the room, his hidden lips arching downwards into a thoughtful frown.
“My God, Samantha,” John said slowly, his voiced muffled by his shaking fingers. “Maybe you’re right. I dunno, you might be right. Maybe it is better to leave.” Samantha grinned, sharing a victorious glance with her daughter.
“So?” Samantha asked, anticipation lingering in her voice.