Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
My life here is bleak, but at least it’s familiar, and I have Molly. She has me.
Who knows where I’m going? Maybe no one will bid on me. Maybe Dad will bring me back even more humiliated and miserable. His fists will fly if that happens.
I’ll make myself as pretty as I can.
I’ll try to appeal to a nice man who I can beg to save Molly.
With a heavy weight in the pit of my stomach, I know with certainty that there’s no going back now. I have to do this.
For Molly.
But also for me.
2
TAYLOR
THE HAMMER FALLS
The truck sputters and shudders into life as my father revs the engine impatiently. My hurried breakfast of lukewarm coffee and stale donuts weighs like lead in my stomach.
I turn towards the front of the house, where Molly stands in the doorway with her arms clasped around her body. Her expression is one of grief and hopelessness. I resist the urge to swing open the car door, sweep her into a tight embrace, or grab her by the wrist and flee together. We have nowhere to go that would be safer than here. I have nothing to offer my sister other than my love.
When I offer her a smile that I hope sends her some encouragement, she turns her face away.
I’ll come back for you, Molly. I promise.
A single tear burns hot against my flushed cheeks, and I fix my eyes on the road ahead, not looking back this time. I enter a state of numb emptiness as we turn at the end of our road and leave behind everything familiar to me.
I tap out a quick message to Natalie, telling her that Molly will be coming to the bakery. I don’t send it, my thumb hovering over the button, hesitating. This message will prompt questions I can’t answer. Maybe it’s best for Molly to turn up. Natalie won’t be able to resist her sweet face.
Beside me, Dad hums. My hands clench into fists, and the urge to smack him in the side of his stupid head bubbles up inside me, but I push it back down. He’s wiry and weak but still so much stronger than me. I want to tell him to use whatever money he gets for me to take care of Molly, but what would be the point? He doesn’t give a shit about us. He never has. Telling him would only make him want to do the opposite. All I can hope is that the money lasts long enough for me to come back for Molly before she passes the age of consent, and he can do what he did to me.
He’s an asshole, but he knows the law.
He turns on the radio, content with the music and static that blasts its sound from the dusty speakers. Sitting back in my seat, my eyelids flutter with fatigue, and the truck’s motion takes effect. My sleepless night has left me dangerously close to nodding off when I’m most vulnerable.
When I come to my senses, dazed and confused, I notice that the landscape has drastically changed. Off into the distance, the jagged silver peaks are stark against the softness of the pale blue sky. It’s breathtakingly beautiful and dramatic, totally different from the bland gray town we’ve left behind. Muffled voices are audible through the closed windows of the truck as my dad cuts the engine. He winds down his window, craning his neck, looking out for someone.
I need water to ease the dryness in my throat.
I need to open the door and gulp in some air that isn’t stagnant with my father’s stale body odor and the lingering beer aroma on his breath, but I know it would anger him.
Moments later, he exits the truck without a word, slamming the door shut, and I breathe a sigh of relief for some distance between us. He approaches a man about his age, who’s almost as unsavory looking, wearing a plaid shirt and dusty jeans.
Cattle trucks laden with livestock are exiting the site, and no one glances in my direction. Still, I lower myself into the seat for fear of anyone spotting me.
Now he’s gone, I wind down the window, allowing the breeze inside. It carries with it an organic freshness of animals and vegetation. I inhale deeply and press my hand in the middle of my chest where my heart feels as though it might explode through the cage of my ribs. A passing truck backfires its engine, making me jump. A plume of fumes swirls in through the open window. I cough and splutter as it disappears out of view.
My dad’s forced laugh carries on the air.
I try to suppress the overwhelming thought of Molly at home, miserable and scared.
My attention shifts to a burst of commotion somewhere behind me. A group of men are gathering outside the main barn. Varied in age, they seem to be either solo or in small groups. They’re kitted out in an unofficial uniform of plaid shirts, wranglers, and worn leather boots. Some are wearing Stetsons in varying shades and stages of wear. The scene is almost comical to me at first.