Her father's study was just as she remembered it: solid, dark furniture; shelves heavy with photographs and trophies. And there - in pride of place on her father's desk - was the family Bible. It was a heavy book, yellow pages bound in fraying leather. It had been passed down from father to son for almost two centuries. To Martha it was a symbol of authority - and fear.
"Martha." Her father stood up and put his right hand on the Bible. "Let us talk."
"I'm not staying," Martha replied. She tried to look her father in his eyes, but it was difficult. The memories of the punishments still scarred her. "I have to go. Nat is - ."
"Not welcome here," the old man barked. "I shall ask you this once to reconsider your decision. If you go now, in this way, then you will never be welcome again. But," he extended his arms in a stern embrace, "if you stay, you will be forgiven."
Martha took a deep breath. "No, father." It felt good to say those words. "I'm going. I'd hoped you would have seen some sense, but - ."
Her father picked up the Bible and slammed it onto the desk top. "But you reject us! You reject the Word of God!"
"No!" Martha's courage grew. "I reject your ignorance and superstition. You ruled us with that book, beating its lessons into us. There are other lessons, other books."
"And they are all full of blasphemy!"
"Have you ever read any of them? Or do you just see them through the lens of your prejudices?"
Martha's father picked up the Bible and raised it above his head, ready to strike down. "How dare you! I shall - !"
With a speed that surprised even her, Martha snatched the heavy book from her father's grasp and held it in front of her like a shield. "Shall what? Beat me with it? Like you do to mother? Or my sisters? All the while claiming this justifies your brutality?" She flung the book open and made to rip it apart.
Her father stopped and held out a hand. "Martha." His tone was still angry, but hesitant. "Martha. Please. Do not do this."
Martha shook her head. "I remember what you did when you found me reading books you disapproved of. You destroyed them. You ripped them in half and burnt them in front of me. I've learnt to respect all books, to treasure them. Not like you. This is the only book you respect. Well, you can keep your book, father; but you can't keep me.'
Martha threw the Bible at her father. It flew straight, hitting the old man's head. He staggered back a step, stunned. "Goodbye, father." And with that, Martha turned her back on her father and walked out of his study, her head held high.
