Two months earlier, Paradise, Saskatchewan
She lay in the dark, body aching, until he fell sleep, his breathing thickening to a loud, steady snore. The old worn mattress dipped toward his body, and Rebekah held herself rigid to keep from rolling into the hollow formed by the weight of his body. There was a stickiness between her thighs, and a knot of disgust in her throat, and for one horrid second she wondered how difficult it would be to kill herself.
The thought was fleeting, disappearing immediately. The urge to survive was far stronger—she was far stronger—she had to be.
There had to be more to life than what she’d been handed. She knew there was more than this, and she was determined to find it, no matter what the short-term cost. She already knew staying was equal to accepting hell. If she left, there was a glimmer of hope for her future.
So she waited until there was no doubt the heavy body beside her was sound asleep, his snore building to a solid, unmistakable rumble.
Rebekah slid from the bed, feet hitting the icy-cold hardwood boards. She landed like a cat, silent and cautious as she made her way out of the bedroom toward the narrow flight of stairs. A light shone from under the door to her sister’s room, but she ignored it, sliding silently past even as she longed to say goodbye. She pulled on a pair of runners from the back door—not her own—crossing the yard wearing nothing but her thin nightshirt, the threadbare fabric offering little protection against the cold March night.
She hurried without looking as if she was rushing, moving down the packed snow trail to the nearest barn. Only once she was safely out of sight did she kick into high gear, sprinting across the open space to the wooden slats that formed a ladder up the side of the barn wall.
If she were caught now, it would mean the end of more than her dream of a new life.
Up in the hayloft, she hurriedly moved aside the bales until she found the old backpack where she’d hidden her supplies. Rebekah jerked on the clothes, a massive shiver rocking her as she layered up with an assortment of things taken from various members of the community. All of it stolen in dribs and drabs so that no one was aware of the thefts.
She grabbed the backpack and slipped from the warmth of the barn back into the cold night, running past the men’s house down the trail in the snow she knew they had packed all the way to the highway. If she was lucky, everyone would be asleep. If she was lucky, someone would be passing by on the highway who’d pick her up.
If she was lucky she would make it…
…but up till then she hadn’t had much luck.
She didn’t have any reason to expect that to change.