Daughter of the Refuge

Chapter Eight

"Is can't believe I'm leavin' tomorrow," Peter said, repositioning his head on top of Samantha's. The two were side by side, arm in arm, backs against the wall, as they relished in their last day together. "Five months felt like an eternity."

"I can't believe it either," Samantha whispered, ignoring the tear that silently slipped down her cheek. She should be happy that her best friend was finally being released from her torture house, but she was breaking. Once he was gone, what would she have left? She internally sighed. The kids. She would always have the kids.

"Are ya gonna be okay?"

"'Course," she said. "I was fine before yous came and Is'll be fine once ya leave. Just promise me that you'll stay far away from dis place."

"I promise," he agreed.

"Where're ya gonna go?"

"Is ain't thought dat far ahead yet." Samantha understood that. The Refuge hardly gave you time to think about what would happen once you got out, not when you were constantly dwelling on if you would get out.

"I wish yous could come with me," Peter whispered.

"Is wish dat too," Samantha admitted.

"Den why don't ya?" He asked, turning to face the girl. She glared up at him.

"You know full well why Peter."

"But if ya escaped and ran away, your father would neva be able to find yous. You could finally be free, Sam." She slammed her eyes shut, reliving the moment of pain when her father caught her after she tried running the day of her mother's death. "Don't yous want dat?"

"I'll neva be free of da Refuge. No matter how far away from it I am," she whispered, hugging her legs to her chest as more silent tears made their way down her cheeks. Peter gently wiped them away.

"But you could be," he tried.

"No," she said. "I'll neva be free. Not of da scars, not of da pain, not of da memories."

"Part of freedom is makin' da choice to let go."

"I don't think I'm ready ta do dat." Peter sat back, staring down at the girl in front of him.

"Yous standin' in a cell with the door unlocked, but you're waitin' for the door ta be opened for you. Freedom is right in front of yous, but you're refusin' ta take it."

"It's not freedom if ya have to carry chains around for da rest of your life."

"So why not let them go?"

"Because I don't know how!" The girl cried. A gasp fell from her lips and she slammed a hand over her mouth as if that would reverse the words that had been spoken.

"I wish I knew how ta help you," Peter said, a tear slipping down his face. "Yous 'ave no idea how much it hurts me ta see you so broken and yet 'ave no way to fix ya." Her face darkened as she stared the boy in the eyes.

"Ya can't be broken if you've never been whole. And I don't need anyone ta fix me."

"So you think dat you can live ya whole life like dis? Hidin' behind ya walls and webs of lies? Lying ta everyone about who you truly is, all the while workin' as hard as ya can to destroy the only person left who is ya flesh and blood?" She stood up, her anger getting the better of her as she shoved her finger in his face and spoke with as much venom as she could muster.

"You 'ave no right to say dat! I've had ta hold da weight of the world on my shoulders all by myself. Was anyone else dere ta help me in those moments I spent cryin' myself ta sleep, covered in blood? Was anyone dere when I would jump 'tween Snyder and an innocent child to receive deir beatin' because I knew if Is didn't it would be their death? Was anyone dere when my father pinned me to da wall of his office and told me dat if I didn't help him he would rob me of everything I had ever loved? No! No one was dere! No one cared dat the daughter of the crazy, evil man runnin' da Refuge was hurtin' too! So forgive me if I'm not willin' ta give my broken pieces to those who stood by and watched him shatter me. It's a good thing you're leavin' tomorrow. Maybe being free will knock some sense into you."