Jessica Burkhart
You’re eighteen, and you don’t trust anyone. Your father—an abusive con man—taught you that lesson. His fraudulent investment schemes, in which he used you and your family as bait, made you profoundly suspicious of other people’s motives. But hold on: An opportunity to escape is coming. The thing is, it depends on something you don’t really have—trust.
The next year, your life gets both better and worse simultaneously. You get a book deal. Your editor, Kate, becomes your best friend—she becomes the big sister you never had. The connection is immediate—one you’ve never had with anyone before. Soon, you love each other. You never question this. Even though Dad swore no one would ever love you, someone does.
Every day he talks about how your only responsibility is to “the family.” He says that nothing is more important; nothing should make you want to leave. And frankly, it seems impossible to you that you could ever manage to get away from him.
But Kate’s going to tell you something unbelievable: She wants to help you escape.
You have one opening. You say yes to Kate’s offer. You’re supposed to go from Florida to New York with just a single suitcase. No Mutzie (the stuffed puppy you slept with every night); no dog-eared copies of your precious Black Stallion books; no photos of your brother.
I know that this decision will seem to be the hardest part, but I’m afraid it’s not. You wobble—and the fear almost destroys you. You won’t be able to eat or sleep for weeks.
You try to act like nothing’s up. You write around the clock, watch General Hospital, and play video games with your brother. Dad continues to snatch your paychecks from the mailbox before you even see the envelopes.
When you call Kate, you tell Dad it’s for business. From your closet, you whisper into the phone, hoping she won’t detect the doubt that’s in your voice. But of course she does. Kate knows that you want to leave with all your heart, but she also senses that you may still back out at the last second.
Days before your scheduled departure, Kate calls, and her voice—which is usually so warm and gentle—is chilly now, and the words she speaks are even colder. If you don’t follow through, she says that she will still be your friend, but she won’t listen to complaints about your father anymore. She won’t subject herself to accounts of how a person she loves has credit cards in her name that she’s not allowed to use, how she can’t drive anywhere alone, and isn’t allowed to speak to the neighbors—not after she gave you a chance and you didn’t take it. She will love you, be your editor, and support you, but it won’t be like it was before. You swear you’re going to leave. Promise profusely. Kate says that she’ll believe you when you get on the plane.
You cry. Hard. Hot tears. You hate her for saying those things. Support was what you needed. Or at least, that’s what you thought then. Now you know that she gave you exactly what you needed. Kate terrified you in a way that no one else ever had—not even Dad. Losing her wasn’t an option.
That phone call gets you on the plane. Months later, Kate tells you how she agonized over that awful call, cried when she hung up, and hated every second of speaking to you that way. But threatening your friendship was the only way to ensure your safety.
One terrible phone call saved your life. And now, you’ve gotten away. You are no longer kept.
Twenty-four year old Jessica Burkhart (Jess Ashley) lives in Brooklyn, New York. She is the author of the twenty-book Canterwood Crest series. Jess is also working on Kept, a YA verse novel based on this essay and her post on DearTeenMe.com. With her Canterwood editor and BFF, Kate Angelella, Jess co-owns Violet & Ruby—a two-person book packager. Visit Jess online at JessicaBurkhart.com.